| Subject: À la Vie! – Chapter 22 |
Author:
Diane
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Date Posted: Saturday, October 30, 09:03:35pm
In reply to:
Diane
's message, "À la Vie!" on Tuesday, October 19, 01:16:54am
Nikita knew that Madeline was maintaining a long-distance relationship with Paul Wolfe, the American ambassador to France. She hoped that his diplomatic powers would carry some weight, and she knocked on Madeline’s door.
“Yes, Nikita, what is it?”
Uh oh. Madeline was wearing her “Mona Lisa” smile, the one that didn’t reach her eyes and proclaimed that she was generally pissed at the world. Not a good time to ask for a favor, thought Nikita. Still, she hesitated. This was so important to Michael. The least she could do was ask. The worst that could happen was that Madeline would say “no.”
“I was wondering,” began Nikita nervously, “that is, the ambassador. The one we met in Marseilles?”
“You’ll have to narrow that down, Nikita,” answered Madeline. “The party was at the American embassy, remember? The place was lousy with ambassadors.”
Nikita blushed. “Yes. Of course. I mean the American one. Paul Wolfe?”
The smile was gone instantly, replaced by a penetrating glare. “What about Ambassador Wolfe?”
Nikita wished that the floor would open up and swallow her whole. Her mouth was completely dry, but she managed to swallow. “I have a friend. In Marseilles. He’s having trouble with another ambassador. I was wondering if Ambassador Wolfe would have any influence and be able to help my friend.” She was staring at the floor at though her Nikes were the most interesting shoes she had ever seen in her life.
“I don’t know,” replied Madeline. Nikita looked up. The glare was gone, replaced by an almost genuine half-smile. “What is your friend’s problem?”
“He was married to the daughter of the East Indian ambassador to France. When they separated, she took their son and has refused to let my friend go near him or even see him. He has petitioned for custody, but—“
“The law always favors the mother, I know,” said Madeline thoughtfully. “I’m not sure what you think Paul can do, through, other than talk to Ambassador—“
“Vacek,” Nikita supplied.
“Ambassador Vacek. He may be able to talk him into supervised visitation, but that’s the most your friend can hope for. Ambassador Wolfe is a smart man—respected and well-liked, but he has no authority over any of the other ambassadors.”
“I’d appreciate anything he could do,” Nikita said gratefully.
Madeline picked up the phone. “It’s about tea time there. I should be able to catch him in his office.”
“Wait,” said Nikita. “There’s something else you should know.”
Madeline looked at her, eyebrow raised.
“Adam isn’t Michael’s natural son. His wife was already pregnant when they got married.”
Madeline frowned. “I think your case just died,” she pronounced.
“Couldn’t you still call and ask?” Nikita pleaded. “Michael has raised Adam since he was born. He’s the only ‘real’ father Adam knows They’re very close. Elena never cared about him until Michael moved out. She even forgot his birthday!”
Madeline slowly reached for the phone again. “I’ll call Paul, and ask him to do what he can, but I’m sure you’re fighting a lost cause.”
“Thank you, anyway,” Nikita said wearily as she stood to leave the office. She had done what she came to do. She prayed fervently that it would help, but deep in her heart, she knew that Madeline was right. Michael was fighting a losing battle.
* * *
Simone had had it. Roberta was not holding up to her end of the deal. Actually, Simone was doing more and more cocaine, and her habit was growing faster than Roberta’s bank account. She would give the old lady one more chance, then she would rat her out to her precious “Nik.” Simone knew what models at l'Éclat could make, and featured ones like Nikita were bringing home a bundle. It was time to share the wealth.
To hell with it. She would go over to Roberta’s right now and demand her money. She reached her destination in less than 10 minutes. *Old neighborhood not good enough for you, huh?* she thought snidely. The door to the small rental was locked, but Roberta had left a spare key under the Welcome mat. “Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Simone muttered as she let herself in.
She looked around. Not bad. Not bad at all. A VCR, but no movies. “Hmm, looks like she doesn’t need this,” Simone thought, and disconnect the unit from the TV. “Oh, what the hell,” she said, and loaded the television into the back seat of her car as well. Simone looked around at her handiwork and figured Roberta would learn her lesson. You do not screw around with Simone!
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