"So, you do know my father?" I asked, in a knowing tone, remembering the napkin with the symbol on it.
"Yes, he too, frequented such establishments."
"I am aware," I said, suddenly smelling alcohol, having a moment of sense-memory.
"Well your father was a gambling man. A rather abysmal gambler, at that. Over the time that I played with him, he owed me quite the sum of money. He kept promising payment and one day when I went to collect it from him in person, I arrived to an empty house. He and your entire family were gone."
My heart sunk at that moment. This all made sense as to why we, all of a sudden had to not only move like vagrants in the night, but downgrade our accommodation to live outside a manner to which we were accustomed. I just cannot believe father would ever have done something like that. Dug a hole so deep, the only escape was to flee.
"I eventually tracked him down to Montpellier. Armed with the knowledge that he would not pay me back, I decided to take drastic measures," finished Geroux.
"What? So you kidnap me as some kind of... bargaining chip?" I was livid.
"It began as that, yes," conceded Geroux. "I simply wished for him to pay it back. But, now —"
"It doesn't appear as though you are in need of any more money," I said angrily, gesturing to the opulence surrounding us.
"Looks can be deceiving. Very deceiving," he said ominously. "I believe all men should honour their word," he said, very matter-of-factly.
I laughed with an impertinent distinction, "Honour? How much honour can a man expect when he kidnaps women and holds them against their will?"
"It isn't as simple as that anymore," began Geroux.
"Then please, enlighten me," I said, patiently awaiting a response. Geroux, anguished, simply stared at his dinner, occasionally flicking his eyes to me, then back to his plate.
"It is something you cannot possibly understand," he said.
"Is it too complicated for my womanly brain? Then please, uncomplicate it for me," I demanded.
"What do you remember of last night?" he said, curiously.
I knew exactly what he wanted to talk about. How he made me go crazy, or at least, think I was crazy.
"I remember very little of last night," I said, with the straightest face I could summon. "Enough rubbish. How exactly is my father supposed to pay you back if he has no idea where you are or where I am?"
"He knows exactly where I am and therefore, I daresay, exactly where you are," said Geroux, sipping his tea. "As for why he has yet to pay?" Geroux shrugged.
"I've had quite enough of your lies. I wish to speak to my father."
Geroux was gobsmacked.
"I'm afraid that's not possible," he said, furrowing his brow.
"Well, I do not believe it of my father, to be indebted to a man like you, nor do I believe he would leave me here. And what of Pierre? Why would he not have come to save me?" A fair question.
"I am still yet to resign myself to the idea that Pierre, is in fact, a real person," smirked Geroux.
"Well one way or another, I will get to my father and I will find out the truth," I said confidently. I actually had no idea how I would achieve such a result, but in the moment, it did not seem to matter than I had no plan.
"It's not safe out there. I'm just trying to protect you," said Geroux, rather shortly.
"Do not say that. Do not act like you care about me," I said, as tears welled in my eyes. Memories of happier times with Pierre filled my mind.
I did not want to give Geroux the satisfaction of seeing me cry. So I stood up from the table, as did Geroux and excused myself without a word.
I went to storm off, then stopped, turned, walked right back up to Geroux and slapped him right across the face. The slap resonated so loudly it caused an echo.
Then I strode off.
It felt amazing.
...
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