Sweet as Pie Crimes by Anisa Claire West

Isabelle.”
    “ Enchantée .”
    “Nice to meet you too,” I replied tensely as my mother’s parting words to me at the airport in Barbados replayed in my head: You’re going to be in a big city, ma petite, and you can’t trust anyone.  Not even a woman.  Always be careful.  And like I said, don’t trust anyone.  Not even a woman!
    “So what do you say?  Would you finally talk to my brother and let him paint your picture?” Ch érie persisted as I shook my head in refusal.
    “I don’t think so.  I’m not a model.  I came to Paris to study, not pose for portraits.”
    “Then maybe you will just have a cup of coffee with him?  Just talk?  Then, if you like, you can go to his studio and see some of his other work.  I think you will be very impressed.” Chérie blew a wisp of blond hair out of her eyes as she favored me with a charming smile.
    “I’m not sure.  I’m very flattered, but…”
    At that moment, Collette came raging into the room, so I didn’t have to say ‘no’ to Chérie any longer.  She glanced briefly at our customer and then fixed a rigid stare on me.
    “I hope you are not delaying our busy customers with your chatter, Isabelle,” she said rudely.
    “No, she wasn’t at all,” Chérie defended as I smiled at her gratefully.  “I was actually talking to her .  But I do need to go now.” Lowering her voice to a level meant only for me, she added, “Just one cup of coffee.  You won’t regret it.”
    ***
     
    That evening, I practically tip-toed past Patric’s usual post on the corner, hoping to avoid him and slide back to my apartment building unnoticed.  Surprisingly, though, he was nowhere to be seen as I ducked for cover and arrived at the doorstep of my apartment.  I glanced across the street, shrugging my shoulders and assuming he had packed up for the night.  It was peculiar, though, as Patric had been a permanent fixture on the street day and night since I arrived in Paris.  My ponderings about Patric crashed to a halt as my nostrils perceived the rank odor of a lit cigarette.
    Sure enough, Xavier was standing on the balcony, puffing away and staring up at the moon.  I cleared my throat before I spoke, not wanting to startle him as he appeared deep in thought.  “When’s your birthday?” I ventured out of the blue.
    “ Pardon ?” He asked, his dark eyes glazed with confusion.
    “I want to get you the Patch for your birthday so you’ll quit smoking!” I infused as much humor as I could into my statement, but I was dead serious.
    “Oh, well that’s too bad.  My birthday just passed in July.” He pressed the cigarette between his lips and savored another puff as I shook my head in disgust.  “Does it really bother you that much?”
    “Yes! Obviously!  I’ve even been thinking about finding another apartment…” I trailed off, waiting to see how he would respond and if the stiff-willed man would bend just a little.
    “Another apartment?  Don’t do that, Isabelle.  I think we get along very well other than for my smoking habit.” He dangled the cigarette between his fingers as his facial muscles tightened.
    “Your smoking habit is just the tip of the iceberg.  How about the fact that you think I’m a big fool who belongs in clown school and has a sneeze that could wake the dead?!  To use your words,” I emphasized bitingly.
    “Ah, I’m sorry, forget about what I said last night!  You woke me out of my sleep and I didn’t mean to be rude.  You’re a very smart girl---sorry, woman ,” he corrected as my eyes flashed. “That’s why I want you to work at the bookstore.  We could use an employee who actually reads books rather than tabloid magazines.”
    I tilted my head to one side, this time touched rather than offended that Xavier wanted me to work at the bookstore.  So it wasn’t just because he wanted to help.  He genuinely thought I would be a good addition to the place.  Still, it was an idea that would never work, as