Page 32 of Thorn

Juliette stood in line to buy a ticket to the next film but still had a while to wait before it started. She moved over to a bench where a group of teens were hanging out. Maybe they wouldn’t mind. Maybe she’d look like she belonged with them.

They were a pretty dull group.

There wasn’t a lot of conversation as they pecked away on their phones.

She latched on to the part where one of the guys said he had his mother’s car and that she was working nightshift. Juliette stored that piece of information away.

Juliette had her phone out and pulled up a YouTube of someone playing a computer game. She thought that was what a teen might do while waiting. It might make her less conspicuous. She couldn’t look at the screen though, it made her vertigo worse, instead she peeked from under her hood to watch the comings and goings in the square − to see if two burly Russians would barrel in to find her.

Juliette waited until the group gathered up to move to the theater. She pulled the hoody from her head and snagged the guy’s arm − the one who had mentioned having a car and no parent waiting for him at home.

He turned his head toward her, and she smiled. “Ciao.”

“Bonsoir,” he replied, pulling his hands from his pockets and smoothing down the front of his T-shirt.

His pals had stopped and turned back to see what he was doing. Juliette hadn’t let go of the guy’s arm, hadn’t dropped her smile. She worked to get the pain out of her eyes and to look kind.

“I’ll catch up with you in a second,” he said, waving them on. And once they were out of ear shot, he asked, “Do I know you?”

Her crutch slipped from under her arm, and he stooped to pick it up for her.

“Merci.I was wondering if you might like to make some money,” she said.

“I don’t want anything to do with drugs.” He put up two hands as if to ward her off.

“Really?” Juliette found that oddly disconcerting. “I look like I’m a dealer?”

“We’re in the square, and you’re offering me a way to make money.”

“I need a ride, that’s all.” Juliette countered. “I’d pay you for your time and gas.” She pulled two hundred euro from her pocket. “I need to get to Paris. My family is facing an emergency. The next train isn’t for hours yet.”

“That’s a lot of money to get to Paris.” He searched around for some cues as to why she would approach him and offer this money.

Juliette decided to play the tourist card. “Is this a lot of money?” She stared down at the bills in her hand. “I just arrived yesterday. I’m not used to the currency. Last time I was here, I used francs. But I need to get to Paris immediately. I need to find a flight home. I’m glad to pay you this, if you could take me to the airport.”

He nodded as he said, “A foreigner, I can tell from your accent.” The young man looked around again, weighed the situation. “You’ve been sitting next to us for a while…”

“I was trying to figure out what to do next. I was upset to learn there are so few trains to Paris. I don’t have anyone here to ask for help, and to be honest, I wanted some time to figure out if you were a nice person. It’s frightening for a woman to climb into a strange man’s car.”

That last piece of information seemed to make sense to the guy. He stuck out his hand. “Jean-Luc,” he said. “I can get you to Paris. My car is just over here.” He pulled out his phone and sent a group text.Looks like I’m gonna get lucky. He showed it to her. “I need a reason to leave my friends.”

“As long as you know, I just need an emergency ride to the airport.”

“Compris,” understood, he said. “This way.”

Jean-Luc walked slowly beside her as she made her way to the car. Every once in a while, his hand would shoot out, and he’d grab her shoulder to right her.

“I had an accident,” she said. “It’s not been a very fun trip to your beautiful country.” Juliette was having trouble with her eyesight. Things were swimming.

After helping her into the front seat, Jean-Luc rounded the front of his car, climbed in, and started the engine. “Charles De Gaulle Airport, oui?”

“Please.”

He started the engine and twisted a knob. Soothing notes filled the car. “My mother.” He pointed toward the radio. “This helps after a night at work at the hospital.Ça va? This is good for you?”

“Oui. Ça va. Merci bien.” Juliette handed him the money. Now, she’d have to hope for the best. She wasn’t sure she could stay awake through the drive. She’d have to trust this stranger.

Juliette put her hand to her head and felt the heat. The fever was worse. There was a thermometer in her bag, but she was afraid to check the number. It had started up just as her plane had taken off from D.C. She wasn’t sick, per se, it was just another side effect in a long list of side effects. But if this pain took on its normal trajectory, she’d be in bad shape soon.

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