Chapter 8 #2
Ana?s appeared confused by their conversation, but she let them catch up, opting to look around the apartment. She gazed at the sepia photographs of Juliana’s stage performances like she was in a museum, stopping at a particular one near the bedroom. “When was this taken?”
Bastien craned his neck to look at it, and realised it was a framed photograph of him and Jules.
“And why do you have a black eye?”
“Why do you ask so many questions?” he retorted and heard Juliana chuckle wickedly under her breath as she prepared their drinks.
That had been the day of the kiss incident.
When Bastien was fifteen he had fancied himself in love with Juliana, and because his arrogance hadn’t been humbled quite yet, he had assumed she loved him too.
That she dreamt of kissing him as much as he dreamt of kissing her.
Juliana had gracefully punched him square in the face right before he could so much as lean in.
Bastien wasn’t sure why she had decided to still be his friend even after the debacle, but he was glad for it.
“A bird came flying straight for him,” she said now to Ana?s, sticking to the lie they had told Monsieur Ménard that day. Juliana set a tray on the coffee table, nagging Bastien to move his feet away. “Pecked him right in the eye.”
“Yes,” he added. “An evil bird.”
Ana?s looked like she needed more convincing. But she forgot all about her inquiries when Juliana went into the kitchen again and brought out a glistening stack of petit fours. Gingerly, his sister took a seat next to him, cradling a cup of tea in her hands.
Juliana did the same on the other chaise, except she drew her legs up, placing them on full display in front of Ana?s.
Bastien shook his head. His friend had a proclivity for teasing every girl who happened to lay eyes on her.
She had told him once that she liked how their cheeks flushed and their speech became an incoherent jumble of nervousness whenever they were around her.
Bastien couldn’t blame them. Men, too, were reduced to mumbling idiots in Juliana’s company.
“You and I are not that different,” he had told her.
“Yes, we are Bas,” she’d replied. “I don’t see them as dolls to play with.”
He had been a little annoyed by that, but couldn’t bring himself to care enough to respond. Love had never been something of interest to Bastien, and to love one person alone was even more incredulous to him.
He looked at Ana?s, searching for a reaction, but his sister had masterfully fastened on her poker face and was nibbling at a petit four, paying no attention to Juliana’s legs.
Juliana on the other hand was scrutinising her.
When she slid her eyes over to Bastien, she gave him a look that conveyed don’t blame me; if I had a sister, she wouldn’t have been off limits to you either.
Touché.
“So tell me,” she said aloud. “How do you plan on fixing your money problem? I’ll lend you all you need, of course, but I’m guessing your grandfather crossed off borrowing from the list of options.”
“You guess right,” chimed Ana?s. “Which reminds me, here.” Unzipping her purse, she pulled out a small porcelain container shaped like a cat and handed it to Bastien. “Don’t spend it all in one place.”
He turned the coin bank over in his hands and threw his head back with a whine. “Do you see?” he exclaimed. “Jules, do you see what I’m reduced to?”
Juliana chuckled and began fixing a cigarette between her lips.
Ana?s crossed her arms over her chest. “Hey, be nice!”
“Why? The figurine is going to get me more money if I pawned it than your pity coins inside.”
“Fine, then give it back.”
“No,” he moped, cradling it to his chest. “You can’t take back a gift.” At any rate, it would afford him a few shots to drown this whole affair with.
“Back to the issue at hand,” Juliana cut in, letting smoke trail through her lips. “Your solution, prodigal son?”
“A nagging, fashion genius,” he said. “Celine LeBeau.”
“What?” Ana?s spit out her tea.
“You two can’t tell anyone. Emphasising you,” he pointed a finger at his sister. “Celine doesn’t want anyone to find out.”
Juliana pulled a face. “Your brother’s girlfriend is helping you?”
“The one and only. She has entered a competition to win ownership of Maison Baudelaire and ten thousand francs, and you’re looking at her model. She gets the House, I get the money. As simple as that.”
Ana?s began complaining about why she didn’t know any of this, why Celine hadn’t told anyone. But Juliana quietly took another drag of her cigarette, attention pinned on Bastien. She had that look on her face that told him she knew exactly what he was thinking and that she thought it was stupid.
Instead of saying something, she waited until they finished their tea, wrapped a box full of desserts for Ana?s, walked her to the door, then returned to her chaise, giving Bastien that same knowing look.
“You are planning on ruining your brother’s engagement, aren’t you?”
“Nothing gets past you, Jules.”
“Why?” she demanded. “Forgive me for being blunt, but this is all your fault, not his. Or this Celine’s.”
Miffed, Bastien took out his flask and filled his teacup to the brim. “Have you turned into a Jacques sympathiser all of a sudden?”
“No, but I know you,” she said, switching to her versatile English. “And you find someone to blame every time you act out and dear old grandpa cuts you off.”
Bastien thinned his lips, continuing in French. “Clearly, this time he isn’t just cutting me off. And besides, I just want to rile Jacques up a bit. Everyone acts like he’s this golden boy who can do no wrong.”
“As far as I know, he is.”
“Way to twist the knife, Jules.”
She leaned forward casually and propped her chin in the crook of her palm. “I’m sorry, I just think this is a bad idea. This girl is helping you—”
“She’s getting something out of me too, don’t forget,” Bastien returned irritatedly.
“—and you want to what? Steal her chance at having a happy life just to get back at your brother?” Juliana asked, disregarding his protests.
“Please,” Bastien scoffed. “They don’t even love each other. To say nothing of how different they are. I’ll be doing them both a favour if this engagement gets cancelled.”
Why Grandfather had thought Celine a perfect match for Jacques was beyond his comprehension.
Try as she might to make them believe otherwise, Celine was defiant in spirit.
Bastien had known her before Jacques had—they’d been classmates, having both enrolled at the same school (which also happened to be the strictest school in the city), and having both broken enough rules to get them expelled.
The only difference was that she had never been caught.
Nevertheless, his point remained. She could eat Jacques alive if she wanted to.
Juliana cut him a look. “And you know so much about love.”
“I know she’s dating him because her parents are forcing her to, and Jacques is dating her because he loves kissing grandfather’s—”
“That ought to be none of your business,” she interrupted. “I know you don’t want my advice, but I suggest you help her out, get your money, and forget about your little squabble altogether.”
Bastien couldn’t. The issue didn’t lie only with his recent banishment—his strife with Jacques ran deeper than that.
Juliana was right, he should just focus on paying back his grandfather and return to his old life as quickly as possible.
But he couldn’t disregard this golden opportunity just yet.
Ever since Jacques and Celine’s relationship had been announced, Grandfather had relied on their union more than he liked to admit.
And if Jacques were to fail him, then Bastien wouldn’t be the wayward son anymore.
Still, Bastien was careful enough not to fill his head with lies. Celine wasn’t going to yield that easily; she wasn’t stupid. So where was the harm in using her for a little game? He simply wanted to see Jacques act out in front of everyone, while Bastien leaned back and enjoyed the show.
“Thank you,” he said, “but I’ll stick to my plan for a little while longer.” Juliana’s shoulders drooped in defeat, though she had expected this answer. “There are nine weeks until the final round of the competition. Hearts might change.”
“Yes,” she mused. “They might. But be careful, Bastien. You are waging yours too.”
Bastien eyed her wearily. It sounded too much like a premonition. He didn’t like it at all.
Then again, what were the chances his heart would be the one to change?