Me:But don’t we have to be 18 to get in?
Nick:Nope. 16. They’ll only card you if you try to drink
I told Madame Dupuy we were going to a club called Le Shopping. She shook her head when she heard the name. “I do not know this club, but the neighborhood is safe. I will investigate.”
While I waited, I googled the club. The name made me think it would look like a department store: shiny surfaces and angular furniture in gray and black and white. Instead, the pictures on the website looked like Portland Saturday Market meets Mardi Gras in an architectural-salvage yard. It looked like a wonderland. I hoped she’d let me go. I sent the link to Mina and Lily.
Me:Nick asked me to go dancing at this club tomorrow
Mina:Cute upstairs Nick?
Me:
Lily:OMG SO JEALOUS
Lily:Tomorrow I will be glamorously hosing out dog kennels
Mina:I’ll be scrubbing dried Play-Doh out of the rug. Again
Mina nannied for her neighbor during the summer, and Lily volunteered at the animal shelter. I felt a little twinge of guilt sending them amazing Paris club pics when they were stuck in Portland cleaning up after dogs and kids.
Lily:Send pics of your fabulous club experience so we can see how Paris Tosh lives
Me:
A couple of hours later, Madame Dupuy finally okayed the club. Nobody’d ever spent that much time figuring out whether somewhere I wanted to go was safe. Dad trusted me to be sensible and didn’t set many boundaries, and the housekeepers we’d had in Portland had taken their cues from him. I knew he loved me, but sometimes it would have been nice if he’d shown it by holding me close instead of encouraging me to get out of the nest. Lily and Mina had always envied his relaxed approach, but once, one of them was arguing with her mom about going to a concert in one of the old warehouses near the river, and her mom said, “I just don’t think it’s a safe space, and I want to keep you safe.” In that moment I was pierced by a longing for my mom so sudden and brutal that I had to go shut myself in their bathroom so they wouldn’t see me cry.
With Madame Dupuy’s approval secured, I took stock of my closet and panicked. Nothing I had looked sophisticated enough to go out dancing in Paris, so I raced out to Zara afterclass the next day to try on every dress they had. I finally found a sleeveless sea-blue frock with a swirly skirt. When I got back to the apartment, Madame Dupuy eyed the shopping bag, smiled slightly, and said, “Be home by one a.m.”
I smiled back at her. “Thank you.” I would have preferred three a.m., but I was pretty sure that was an argument I’d lose if I tried it.
“And,” she continued, “if you are late this time, you will not be allowed to go out with Monsieur Nick again. You will call me when you return home to tell me you are safe. If you try to deceive me, I will know. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I said, wondering how she would know that I was really home unless she stayed at our apartment all night.
“Bon. This place where you are going, it is safe, but the arrondissement next to it is not so nice. Two women were attacked there last year. You should be…vigilant.” I nodded, a little worried. Dad had made me take self-defense classes, and until the thing with Cole, I’d been confident I could defend myself. I was still ashamed that instead, I’d frozen.
“Also, I am asking you to wear this.” Madame Dupuy unclasped the silver filigree heart pendant she wore, and before I could say anything, she fastened it around my neck.
“Um, thank you?” I didn’t mean it to come out as a question. It sounded sarcastic, which wasn’t my intention. I was just startled by the intimacy of her gesture.
“It is superstitious of me, but what can it hurt?” she said, as much to herself as to me.
I touched it. It was warm. “Is this like a good-luck charm?”
She nodded. “For protection from misfortune. My great-grandmother was wearing it when a vampire attacked, andit saved her. Silver burns vampires.” I raised my eyebrows. A vampire? Really? She flicked her hand like she was brushing off a fly, gave me a brief smile, and said, “This is what my mother told me when she gave it to me. People are superstitious where I come from.”
“Well…thank you.” It was both nice and odd, but I liked that she wanted to protect me.
When Nick knocked on our door that evening, I was still trying to figure out what shoes to wear. I stood in front of the mirror playing “heels or flats,” afraid that choosing the wrong footwear would doom the entire evening. When Madame Dupuy tapped on my door to tell me Nick was in the living room, I squeaked, “Can you help me?”
She came into my room, shutting the door behind her. “You look very pretty,” she said.
I smiled weakly and gestured at my feet. “Which shoes?”
She pointed to my right foot. “You will be dancing, so the flats.”
“Thank you.” I’d been leaning toward the heels, but since I’d asked for her opinion, it felt rude to ignore it.
