|
Post by freeeagle on Sept 20, 2007 21:50:19 GMT -5
Jerome was still standing knee-deep in the water, his teeth chattering. "Cold?" asked Beatrice with a musical laugh. She swam toward him. The water was cold, but the air was colder. "Maybe I can warm you up?" she asked softly, leaning in closely to him and taking both his hands in hers. She tilted her chin softly towards him, her warm breath on his neck. "It's actually not so bad." she told him, or was she telling herself something completely different? She decided it didn't matter. She pressed her lips insitently to Jerome's, flushing with pleasure. This was so lovely. It was like being detached from her body, being somewhere else entirely.
****
Jacques sat in the lobby of the Franz, after arguing with the hotel staff for approximately half an hour. He had heard that Esme was staying there with their drama teacher, of all people. Expelled from school, reputation ruined, all for a man much too old for her? It was just too ridiculous. Esme was young. If she made a good case of herself, they just had to accept her back at Prufock Prep. Esme. If only he could talk to her, see her again. There was so much left to say, so much that she needed to understand. If only.
|
|
|
Post by Jenny on Sept 21, 2007 16:33:48 GMT -5
(I'm happy you're back as Bea. *hug* And Jacques. *hug*)
'Listen,' he said to the hotel staff again. 'I know her. Esmé.'
'We can't just let anybody in,' the manager told him. 'And have you any evidence of your association?'
The question ws ridiculous--of course he wouldn't! But Jacques didn't rise to the bait, and so was persistent. 'Call her room, then,' he said softly. These are exceptional circumstances, sir. I really must speak with her.'
The heavy built man studied the Snicket sibling with some pity. He obviously needed to speak to whoever this kid was quite urgently. He sighed.
'Alright.' he said with a sigh. 'Wait here. I'll call the room for you.'
Jacques grinned, happily. He wasn't happy-- he wouldn't be, he felt, until she came back for good--but this was as happy as he'd been sice she'd left the school.
The man handed him the phone with a slight smile.
'Esmé?' he asked the reciever hopefully.
'No. Olaf.' A slightly rough voice answered. Jacques had never heard the techer refer to himself only by name, without any title, before.
'Can I speak to her?' Jacques asked.
'Why? And who are you?'
Jacques heard a 'who's that on the phone?' from a distance. She was definitely there.
'Jacques,' he cringed, imagining the teacher's reaction. 'Snicket. A friend.'
The professor seemed to give in, and handed over the phone. Her reluctance was obvious. She was never sure what people would say anymore.
--
Jerome choked immediately on his breath, still shivering, looking at her in what could only be descirbed as a mix of delight and confusion.
'Lemony,' he told her simply. 'Remember Lemony.'
She couldn't contain her reaction. Was he refusing her? This had never happened before, she had to say. As much as she thought she and her expelled friend were not alike, she had picked up a certain amount of arrogance about her appearance.
Jerome quickly redressed and sat on the sand, shivering. She just stood there. Maybe she didn't want Lemony anymore.
|
|
|
Post by Hanna Squalor on Sept 21, 2007 17:46:09 GMT -5
"Hello?" Esme said into the receiver confused. She had only just missed the two figures kissing on the beach as she turned from the window. "Hello. Um....I'm just curious as to why you're in the lobby....here...looking for me.... " Esme said. He offered breif explanation. "Since when did you care?" she asked coldly.
Olaf was flipping through tv channels, bored. He watched her out of the corner of his eye.
|
|
|
Post by freeeagle on Sept 21, 2007 21:13:13 GMT -5
"Lemony?" she whispered softly, tears pricking at her eyes again. Her face felt hot and heavy. "I...I didn't think that anyone knew about the two of us. We were always careful, in case someone were to tell Esme." she sad softly in a thick voice. She sunk down in the sand, hiding her teary eyes behind a cloud of hair. She didn't feel the cold, even though she was shivering. She felt hot and embarrassed and ugly in her despair. Her hopes had not only fallen, but shattered on impact. How fragile her heart was, as if it were made of glass. Her cardigan sat discarded in the sand, alongside her shoes and skirt. Her lips still felt sweet and soft, but the wind was quickly carrying the bliss away.
****
"I need to talk to you." he told her shortly. "And I started to care around that first day we walked on the beach together, and I saw beneath that pretentious facade. Or maybe it was when you threw away everything, and everyone that you ever cared about for O." Jacques couldn't even manage the man's full name, so he mustered all the resentment he could and put it into that final letter. "I know there's more to you than a pretty face, and I know that O is going to use you and leave you. I know that we need to talk about this. Meet me in ten minutes in the parlor. Please." He rarely begged, but whatever it took to get her down here was what he would do.
|
|
|
Post by Jenny on Sept 22, 2007 16:05:29 GMT -5
Jerome laid a hand on her shoulder and smiled softly, regretting being the cause of her upset.
'Of course I knew about you and Lemony,' she told her quietly. 'The only person int he whole school that didn't know was Esmé.' he smiled again. 'And don't pretend you don't adore Lemony. You do.'
'Jerome, I--'
He pushed a finger against her lips to quieten her and brushed back some of her hair, which she had kept out of the freezing water away from her face.
'You and Lemony deserve each other,' he told her. She didn't ask what he meant.
--
'Use me and leave me?' she cried. 'How stupid would I have to be, Jacques, to be completely unaware--'
She noticed Olaf loking at her oddly, and quietened. She didn't want him to get in on this.
'The parlour,' she said, voice trembling with what was either anger or tears, Jacques couldn't tell which. 'Ten minutes. I'll be there.'
|
|
|
Post by Hanna Squalor on Sept 22, 2007 21:18:46 GMT -5
"My girlfriend is in the lobby. Having guy troubles. She tracked me down. I'm getting dressed and going downstairs." Esme said. Olaf groaned.
"I'm staying here."
Esme cheered inside her head. she put on a turquiose top and white pants with gold shoes, so she matched the lobby. "I'll be back soon." she promised. She rushed downstairs.
She spotted him and waltz over, the picture of calm.
|
|
|
Post by freeeagle on Sept 22, 2007 21:59:25 GMT -5
Bea's breath caught at his touch, but the blissful abandon that had filled her earlier was now painful regret mixed with the sharp taste of tears to be cried into a cold pillow that night. She picked the cardigan out of the sand, wrapping herself in it. She used as a shield between herself and the world. She cringed away from Jerome's touch, just as she had to Lemony only a few days ago.
"Jerome, please don't tell Lemony. Its something - something I'll need to do. He'll -he'll want to hear it from me. Besides," she added bitterly, "it'll make it easier for him to dump me, if he can do it right away."
"Bea -" he started, reaching out to touch her shoulder. She rose too quickly, grabbing her shoes and skirt in one hand and half-running up the beach.
"So long Jerome. I'll see you around." she told him.
It made an odd sight, a teenage girl walking into the ritziest hotel in town in nothing but a red ruffled bikini and a sloppily buttoned navy cardigan, carrying a tweed skirt and her shoes, her mascara running down her face and her hair windswept. Esme would be able to help her out. Esme would understand. And Esme always had clothes on hand.
****
Jacques beckoned Esme over, who looked beautiful as ever. Her beautiful blond ringlets cascaded down her back, and her outfit was the height of fashion, as always. He had missed her, he registered as his breath caught in his throat. It was hard to believe that this was the same girl who secretly enjoyed romantic poetry and could play any role given to her without batting an eyelash. The intelligent girl he had first seen studying late in the library. She sat across from him at a table in the lobby.
He reached for her hand, and she slid it off the table.
"Esme, I've missed you." he voiced softly, leaning across the table to make himself heard. "I think I've made it pretty clear what we need to talk about. O, and why he's no good for you."
|
|
|
Post by Hanna Squalor on Sept 23, 2007 10:47:50 GMT -5
"Do you have something better to offer?" she asked. She was mean but it was true. If Jacques did have something better she would take it. Olaf wasn't the same when it was against the rules. She only wanted him because she couldn't have him or something, now he was there for her and she didn't care. But she still chased his love....
"What do you think you need?" Jacques asked taking her hand.
"A home, food, clothing. Good clothing." she added quickly.
"Well is Olaf providing?"
"Yes." Sort of.
"He doesn't deserve you. B?" he asked.
"What?" Esme asked.
"Beatrice. Look." he pointed.
|
|
|
Post by freeeagle on Sept 23, 2007 21:31:02 GMT -5
Esme turned to look, but Jacques cupped her face gently in his hand.
"I can get you back in at school." he told her, although he didn't know if it was true. "That's home. Or as close to it as orphans like us can get. I can afford to take you out to dinner, therefore food. And as for clothing, you've always looked good in uniforms, plus inheritances always make shopping more fun. I can give you something O can't: someone you can depend on." He smiled and released her face. He had felt like adding someone who loves you, but couldn't make it come out right yet.
"If you still want to, I can help you E. Call me if you need me. You know what number you can reach me at. For now, go talk to B. She seems like she could use a friend right now."
Jacques rose without so much as a goodbye, giving Esme an easy smile before stepping out of the revolving door.
|
|
|
Post by Hanna Squalor on Sept 24, 2007 19:38:05 GMT -5
Esme pouted for a moment, confused. then she skipped over to Bea. "Darling. You're early. And soggy. Come upstairs."
When they entereed the door Olaf was right where she left him. "Hi." He greeted. Esme tried to think of an excuse... "Esme you should have told me it was Beatrice; she could have come right up." Olaf said trying to get on her good side.
Esme had forgotten the lie she had told him in order to leave. Funny how that had worked out.
|
|
|
Post by Jenny on Sept 25, 2007 14:56:29 GMT -5
She stuttered a little. Beatrice had avoided looking at her former acting teacher all the time-- how could she? How could she look at a professor in the same way after he'd taken a sixteen year old girl out of her schooling on what was no doubt a whim on his part? She had no doubt next month Esmé would be at the door, sobbing her eyes out emotionally because she'd finally figured out what everyone had been trying to tell her all along.
No. That would never happen. Esmé would never admit to Kit--especially not Kit--that she was so wrong about anything. Only Beatrice would ever know, probably. That would be another secret she had to carry for her worrying friend.
'I thought I might go down and get a breath of fresh air at the same time,' she told him, flawlessly. She lied when necessary. Beatrice always doubted her when she was telling a fact.
He smiled and turned to a newspaper on his lap. 'Alright,' he said. Even for Beatrice's view of the teacher this was too false, too soft. She knew this was all pretending. It made her worry what he was really like. Esmé hadn't sounded happy the first time she'd rung...
'If you two want anything, let me know. I'll call room service for you.' he offered, smiling like a kind old man in a rocking chair.
There!That was it! Old! And he was old--too old for her friend by a long way. What Esmé--pretty, very, and always had been popular--saw in him, she had absolutely no idea. Had the man promised her something? Love, probably, or something of the sort. Money--he must have had it, to stay at the Franz (as far as Beatrice was aware)--or something else entirely?
Well, Esmé always had wanted to get away.
'Shall we go for lunch?' Esmé questioned. She then handed Beatrice a towel and examined how her appearance was faring. Her clothes were soaked and her hair was plastered to her head, mascara smudged around her eyes. Esmé almost sighed.
'You can borrow some clothes if you want,' she offered with a friendly smile. 'Juts don't get them wet.'
'I won't fit in anything of yours and you know it.'
'Nonsense,' Esmé smiled. 'I'll get something out for you. Go through and dry your hair. I'll see you soon.' with this, she showed her friend the bathroom and closed the door. Olaf dropped his paper.
'You didn't tell me Goody Two Shoes was going to frip all over the carpet,' he said.
|
|
|
Post by freeeagle on Sept 25, 2007 20:29:07 GMT -5
Beatrice noticed that Esme had already unpacked, her creams and cleansers flowing out of the bathroom cabinets. Beatrice grabbed a bottle of facial wash and spread a small puddle over her face, scrubbing away the running makeup. She couldn't hear over the running water, but she knew if she stopped it they would just lower their voices. She just had to trust that Esme could take good care of herself - for the time being. She would try to figure something out later.
She splashed her face a couple of times with cool water, and then pat it dry on the fluffy white towels in the bathroom. She slipped out of her sopping bathing suit and soggy cashmere cardigan, and into one of the perpetually soft bathrobes hanging on the back of the door.
Looking under the sink, she found Esme's hair dryer, which she plugged in and used to dry her slick wet hair into a bouncy style that framed her heart-shaped face. She booted up the curling iron, and began to form soft ringlets in her red brown hair.
She could hear snippets of conversation now, but nothing intelligible, but she had heard the words friends, blindly follow and Jacques somewhere in there. She thought of pressing her ear to the door to hear more, but thought better of it. What she needed was Esme's trust.
She applied makeup, not to accentuate but to exaggerate her big brown eyes and full pink lips. She normally was described as cute or pretty, but now could only be seen as gorgeous or beautiful. Was this what it felt like to be Esme all the time?
She felt better. Clean, new and devastating. Not wholly happy, but better.
She turned the knob of the bathroom door and stepped into the main room.
It was obvious that Esme and Olaf had been talking, but they immediately stopped as Beatrice walked into the room. Olaf held both her wrists so tightly Beatrice thought that her hands might turn purple. They had obviously been arguing, and Beatrice had walked right into the middle of it.
|
|
|
Post by Jenny on Sept 26, 2007 1:37:00 GMT -5
As immediately as he could, Olaf released her and turned away, back to his newspaper. He wouldn't do this in front of Beatrice. He never could know what she intended to do with the information.
'Do you need money for lunch?' he questioned lightly. Esmé had stumbled involuntarily when he'd let go, and bit her lip angrily from where she stood. Beatrice tried to avert her eyes, but couldn't. It was like watching a train wreck, all in a dressing gown. His voice shook a little with the effort of controlling it, and his hands itched to be either widly gesturing or something Beatrice would rather not have considered.
Suddenly her friend stepped away and handed Beatrice a knee-length skirt and pretty blue top. 'I know what you're like when I offer you anything shorter,' she tried a laugh. It didn't come out right in the slightest. 'Goc hange, and then we'll decide where we want to go.'
Beatrice nodded, but was reluctant to step away. They would surely argue again with her gone, and she didn't like the look of the pink marks she'd seen on the other girls wrist.
But, still, what could she do? So she stepped back in and listened. Their conversation resumed, louder than possibly they thought.
'Didn't I tell you you could see Beatrice?' Olaf was asking. 'Beatrice, that's what we agreed. We never discussed Kit or that Snicket boy, did we?'
'He just wanted to know how I was,' she told him. 'He just wanted to see I was OK.'
'I'll bet!' he said. 'I bet he told you to go back. I bet he told you that you could just waltz on in, he'd take care of it.'
Esmé said nothing.
'Don't see the Snicket's again.'
|
|
|
Post by Hanna Squalor on Sept 28, 2007 17:14:07 GMT -5
"Since when have you ever disliked the Snickets?" Esme asked. "You told me when I moved in I could have all the friends over that all I wanted. Or wereyou just refering to the ones that looked like me and acted like me? Pretty ones?" she asked.
"Esme stop being like that." he warned. She started to cry.He hit her for crying. He couldn't stand it. It was pitful weakness.
The slap's sound seemed to fill the air with a loud crack before Esme could feel the pain. She was sitting on the floor when the sting started.
|
|
|
Post by freeeagle on Sept 28, 2007 21:19:47 GMT -5
Beatrice had struggled frantically into the skirt and top, having not yet bothered with the heels. Her skirt was spun halfway around and her top was sliding off her left shoulder as she burst into the main room. That hideous sound of flesh meeting flesh was still echoing in her ears as she offered Esme her hand. Esme took it, and Beatrice gently helped her up, standing between her and Olaf. Esme's face had turned gray, and Beatrice was red with rage. She looked fierce, with her hair hanging wildly around her face and a fire blazing in her eyes. She was disgusted with what had just occurred, and it fueled her anger.
"Get out of my way." she told Olaf in a low tone, working on pure adrenaline. She was still squeezing Esme's hand, and Olaf stood between them and the door.
"Stay out of this you ridiculous girl." he said in a mocking voice, with a glint of a joke in his eyes.
"We are going for lunch. Get out of my way." she repeated, her voice not quavering. Altrhough her hands were shaking.
|
|