you hear me?’
He nodded very slowly and closed his eyes.
‘FUCK! JUAN ANDRES!!!!’, I screamed, as Mrs Garcia barged into the garage with Juan Andres holding something that looked like a primitive defibrillator.
‘You're shitting me!’
‘Leave it to mama! Venga mama! ’
Mrs Garcia didn’t need to be told what to do. She hitched up her long dress and squatted next to Kieran.
‘ Tienes .’
She passed the plug to Juan Andres and he fitted it into a spare socket in the wall. Mrs Garcia pulled Kieran by the legs so he was lying flat on the concrete and rubber floor. She looked at me and motioned for me to move out of the way. When I heard the hum of the pads I scooted quickly over to Juan Andres. I looked at the little vial of powder that we had taken nearly a week to produce. I looked back at Mrs Garcia, hunched over Kieran, just in time to see his body jolt once, then twice and then a third time.
He should have been drying out in a clinic somewhere in the Swiss Alps, he should have been breathing fresh mountain air, but here he was with Juan Andres, Mrs Garcia and me in a garage in the middle of Colombia with his mouth oozing cocaine and two hundred and fifty volts passing through the left side of his chest.
There was nothing else I could do, so I closed my eyes and prayed.
14
April 2007 – Cannes, South of France
The chocolate-brown suede banquettes were complemented by a pristine white linen tablecloth and cream napkins. The carpet was a matching shade of brown, lustrous and thick, just like Stephanie’s hair.
‘Tell me about chemistry’, I said, sipping from my glass of champagne and popping one of the amuses bouches into my mouth.
‘My family…they like me to do ballet, or singing.’
‘You can sing?’
‘I am told I can sing.’
‘You refused to be smothered by the pink blanket.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘I mean you did not want to be a stereotype. Science. What made you start?’
‘You are scientist?’
‘I’ve worked in technology.’
‘I was thirteen. French school is very tough. We learn by rote, we must fit into the system.’
‘Stultifying, I imagine.’
‘I learned science, I liked the natural sciences. I was the only girl in my baccalaureate with science. Lycee Fenelon , in Grasse. A good school.’
‘Grasse is the perfume village?’
‘Yes, but is not very fragrant. Factories and lots of circulation. Traffic.’
‘Factories?’
‘Yes. I worked at one.’
‘After your studies?’
‘Yes. I went University of Nice, four years. Then no-one give me job so I get job working in perfume factory.’
‘And then it’s just a short step to working at a shop that sells perfume?’
‘Yes.’
She took an amuse-bouche and held it to her lips.
‘Is better at Sephora. Is better money, good social contributions.’
‘Don’t think me rude, Stephanie, but what do they pay you?’
‘Is not sounding much, I know. I have one thousand eight hundred euro after the tax.’
‘Really?’
I took a long sip of champagne. I thought of the young man sitting at Jack Wiseman’s desk. He had been there just for show, but Stephanie wouldn’t be. She leaned back and took the amuse-bouche in her mouth. Her lips were very full and I could feel my erection under the table.
‘Would you consider a different type of work, Stephanie?’
‘Perhaps. But I have job for life. They cannot fire me.’
‘Working in a cosmetics store? When you have a science degree? Isn’t it an awful waste?’
‘I don’t want chomage .’
‘Unemployment?’
She nodded and swallowed.
‘Have you decided?’ she asked me.
‘Have I decided what?’
She pointed to her large black menu which didn’t have the prices on it.
‘What you will eat?’
An oriental waiter appeared by our table, electronic pad in hand and my erection subsided.
‘ Cinq minutes ’, I said to him. ‘But bring another bottle of champagne.’
He bowed and walked smoothly back towards the sommelier.
‘You always
He nodded very slowly and closed his eyes.
‘FUCK! JUAN ANDRES!!!!’, I screamed, as Mrs Garcia barged into the garage with Juan Andres holding something that looked like a primitive defibrillator.
‘You're shitting me!’
‘Leave it to mama! Venga mama! ’
Mrs Garcia didn’t need to be told what to do. She hitched up her long dress and squatted next to Kieran.
‘ Tienes .’
She passed the plug to Juan Andres and he fitted it into a spare socket in the wall. Mrs Garcia pulled Kieran by the legs so he was lying flat on the concrete and rubber floor. She looked at me and motioned for me to move out of the way. When I heard the hum of the pads I scooted quickly over to Juan Andres. I looked at the little vial of powder that we had taken nearly a week to produce. I looked back at Mrs Garcia, hunched over Kieran, just in time to see his body jolt once, then twice and then a third time.
He should have been drying out in a clinic somewhere in the Swiss Alps, he should have been breathing fresh mountain air, but here he was with Juan Andres, Mrs Garcia and me in a garage in the middle of Colombia with his mouth oozing cocaine and two hundred and fifty volts passing through the left side of his chest.
There was nothing else I could do, so I closed my eyes and prayed.
14
April 2007 – Cannes, South of France
The chocolate-brown suede banquettes were complemented by a pristine white linen tablecloth and cream napkins. The carpet was a matching shade of brown, lustrous and thick, just like Stephanie’s hair.
‘Tell me about chemistry’, I said, sipping from my glass of champagne and popping one of the amuses bouches into my mouth.
‘My family…they like me to do ballet, or singing.’
‘You can sing?’
‘I am told I can sing.’
‘You refused to be smothered by the pink blanket.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘I mean you did not want to be a stereotype. Science. What made you start?’
‘You are scientist?’
‘I’ve worked in technology.’
‘I was thirteen. French school is very tough. We learn by rote, we must fit into the system.’
‘Stultifying, I imagine.’
‘I learned science, I liked the natural sciences. I was the only girl in my baccalaureate with science. Lycee Fenelon , in Grasse. A good school.’
‘Grasse is the perfume village?’
‘Yes, but is not very fragrant. Factories and lots of circulation. Traffic.’
‘Factories?’
‘Yes. I worked at one.’
‘After your studies?’
‘Yes. I went University of Nice, four years. Then no-one give me job so I get job working in perfume factory.’
‘And then it’s just a short step to working at a shop that sells perfume?’
‘Yes.’
She took an amuse-bouche and held it to her lips.
‘Is better at Sephora. Is better money, good social contributions.’
‘Don’t think me rude, Stephanie, but what do they pay you?’
‘Is not sounding much, I know. I have one thousand eight hundred euro after the tax.’
‘Really?’
I took a long sip of champagne. I thought of the young man sitting at Jack Wiseman’s desk. He had been there just for show, but Stephanie wouldn’t be. She leaned back and took the amuse-bouche in her mouth. Her lips were very full and I could feel my erection under the table.
‘Would you consider a different type of work, Stephanie?’
‘Perhaps. But I have job for life. They cannot fire me.’
‘Working in a cosmetics store? When you have a science degree? Isn’t it an awful waste?’
‘I don’t want chomage .’
‘Unemployment?’
She nodded and swallowed.
‘Have you decided?’ she asked me.
‘Have I decided what?’
She pointed to her large black menu which didn’t have the prices on it.
‘What you will eat?’
An oriental waiter appeared by our table, electronic pad in hand and my erection subsided.
‘ Cinq minutes ’, I said to him. ‘But bring another bottle of champagne.’
He bowed and walked smoothly back towards the sommelier.
‘You always
Similar Books
