Page 27 of French Escapade

Instead, I look for my lipstick in my bag and adjust my makeup using the reflection of the streetlight in a side mirror. This is my camouflage.

I picked a carmine red I found in one of my bathroom drawers. I don’t wear a lot of makeup, but the woman who sold it to me promised me it was perfect for my complexion.

When I’m done, the men are ready.

“This is where we part,” I say.

We look at each other, and I have no doubt they will play their roles as security to perfection. Ted nods and moves toward Palm Beach. Jimmy follows, and Ken hesitates for a second. Instead of leaving, he comes closer to me.

“Take care of yourself. We’ll find you as soon as possible once we’re inside.”

I smile. “Of course. And … take care of yourselves as well.”

He stares at my face, as if he’s attempting to memorize every single detail before leaving. I observe his eye movements, and I would swear they stop a little longer on my lips.

A second later, he’s on his way. “Later,” he says over his shoulder.

I watch him walk away. It’s too early for me to follow him in. I walk on the banks and look at the luxury yachts. I listen to the music from a beach restaurant. In front of me, lights from Fort of Sainte Marguerite’s Island reflect on the black Mediterranean waters.

I look at the time on my cell phone. Ted brought some earpieces for the boys so they could talk to each other. I can’t wear that sort of stuff. It would blow my cover. Instead, Ted installed an app on my phone that transcribes their conversation as text messages.

Right now, they are almost silent. I smile when I notice they’ve switched to English and are using military language. Lucky for me, I’ve watched enough non-dubbed American war movies with my dad to get most of it.

When the time for me to get in comes, I quickly send them the agreed-upon message and put my phone in my bag.

I take a big breath and stand a little taller. I push my shoulders back, lift my chin, and give my steps an exaggerated swing.

Acting as if I belong here, I step on the red carpet. Two agents are posted on the side of the door. One of them is Ted. I direct my attention to the other. He gets the most charming smile in my inventory.

And it works. From the corner of my eye, I notice that my lower back is the only thing about me that captures his attention as I walk by.

I’m in. Black curtains with little lights form a starry sky. The place no longer looks like it did earlier today when we visited.

I keep on going, avoiding the guests who are getting their pictures taken. The last thing I want is for my face to show in one of the shots. I make a beeline to the little reception desk of the hostess, who asks for my invitation.

It’s time to put on a show.

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