A/n: Heh, heh... yeah, well (--coughs--) sorry about how I faked ya'll out with my "update" prior to this. I really haven't gone crazy, mind you, and that's because I just managed to forget that because fanfiction had all this fancy knew updating junk, I kinda forgot about how it still had the world's suckiest formattting. So, that's why I took it down and reposted it. Bottom line, hey, you haven't gone in insane! No, fanfiction did not finally snap, and neither did I! Hoo ha!
Saeka: Hey ya'll! Praise Jesus for long breaks and short exam days! I'm so excited about not having to put up with patronizing teachers, ignorant principals, and the damn coke machine in C pod that never gives me my change back. Hoo ray! Are ya'll as excited as me about me finally getting off my lazy ass and writing something? Cause I am!!
(--does the happy dance--)
By the way, I absolutely refuse to make Hiei shorter than Botan, make Hiei have his red eyes, or make Botan have blue hair. That just ain't gonna fly in my story. Of course, you never know the wackos that you'll find prancing around in Paris, yet I refuse to follow those lines. And if you got a problem, take it up with my ass, cause I could care less.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my not-so-genius ideas…
Reviewers: Yay!!! Kudos to everyone who reviewed!! You all deserve e-cookies and boxes of pocky! I think I'll save the best for last and tell you how wonderful you are after the chapter. In case you're wondering, the title didn't seem to fit the story. I changed it, and don't be surprised if it changes again a few times before I settle on something.You can thank Sara McLaughlan for the new title and summary. In case you don't know alrready, her Fallenalbum is abosultely AMAZING. She's such a beautiful poet...
When you're a celebrity, it's adios reality.
Chapter One: Eyes like Wine
Paris, FranceThe Terrace of the Café Brassiere
Three Months Earlier
The drifting wind on the light autumn breeze made the leaves that were scattered against the cobblestones of the square to rustle and dance like an exotic bird. A fiery red from the setting sun had cast the fountain in the center in an eerie shade of gray, water pouring from it like molten gold. The cafe itself was filled with students on their way home, stopping for a drink with their friends before they set off to study, their laughter floating around amongst the deep tones of businessmen who were negotiating deals.
As the wind played and danced across my hair, my reddish brow eyes viewing the le carré d'innocents through thick black sunglasses. It was pleasing to come to the café and watch people happen by, to see Paris in the very oldest and central part of the city. The laughter of children playing games of soccer and darting around the bustling square was always a site to see; for occasionally they were scolded by happening men and teenagers for bumping into them. Women opened their apartment windows and hung their laundry off the trellises, white pieces of cloth floating around in the breeze.
The hotel across the street was busy, bursting with loud and annoying American tourists. Two young boys hung out the window, typical of American ignorance, shouting out obscenities in broken French and giggling madly at the outburst of angry Parisians who looked up and shook their fists at them.
"Bonjour, monsieur," The garcon said from my other ear, whipping out a pad of paper and a pen. "Vous deseriez?"
Still keeping my eyes on the American boys, I responded absently, "Je voudrais un café, si'l vous plait."
A corner of my mouth kicked up when I saw a French high school student flick the Americans the bird and shout nosily in heavily accented English, "And why don't you lick your balls, fat bastard!"
"D'accord. Un instant, monsieur."
When he left, I caught a flash of a bright yellow out of the corner of my eyes. Curious, I let my eyes drift over to the hotel entrance to see a taxicab pulling up to it. Odd, I thought. The last time I saw a taxicab was when they had a drug bust. Indeed, it was weird to find a taxicab in the heart of Paris, for everyone simply walked. To work, to school, to the store… the city was so cramped that walking three miles to get home ordinary. So, a taxicab near here meant one thing: foreigners. Inquiringly, I watched the taxi come to a halt, and the door open.
A shapely jean-clad leg stepped out, then another, then a young woman followed, a duffel bag slung over her right shoulder. I saw a tousle of dark hair so black that it looked blue pulled back into a high ponytail. She wore a rumpled sweatshirt tied around her waist, a shabby-looking t-shirt, and worn-out part of tennis shoes.
She shut the door behind her, and the taxi roved out and back out into Paris. She stared at the hotel for a while, before turning her eyes toward the busy square.
My eyes widened as I saw the whole of her. She was stunning. She had a classic beauty, her face artfully sculpted, her lips red and full, begging to be kissed. Her forehead was smooth, and she was long of limb and shapely. But was perhaps the most arresting thing about her was her eyes. Her beautiful, thickly lashed amethyst eyes that sparkled and shone as gems when the sunlight struck them. Her sooty black lashes cast shadows over her prominent cheekbones, fringing them as in a true work of art. Her eyes had an exotic slant, shouting to the world that they were up to no good, the deep purple hues shifting as the sunlight dance across her face.
Her lips twisted down into something that wasn't quite a frown as she watched the people in the square. Those magnificent eyes looked at the crowd, the café, then rested upon me.
Despite what I would have liked to think, I felt my heart quicken. She was unearthly in her beauty, looking rumpled and so fragile as she watched me with eyes like wine, shifting, changing, reflecting light even as they held it.
I was entranced.
Then, she smiled. If she had been stunning before, she was ethereal when she smiled. And as soon as she had arrived, she disappeared.
Had she been real? Was such beauty only imagined? I had to know. I had to know if the feeling I felt was real, if she had evoked it.
I had only seen her for a few moments, and already I felt my blood thicken as it raced through my body. I had to have her.
"Gui," I muttered out the corner of my mouth.
A man who sat next to me with dark eyes and hair looked up from his café au lait, his eyebrows raised. "Oui?" he asked, curiously setting down his cup.
"You saw her, didn't you?" I asked in French, my eyes never diverting from the hotel door, hoping she might reappear again.
Though I couldn't see it, I knew he was grinning. It was in his smug tone. "With all do respect, monsieur, I think it was hard not to." Even though it might have come off other wise, Gui was a gentleman through and through. He was just dedicated to helping me out. I guess it would have been safe to say that Gui would have rather cut off his right arm before he did something I wouldn't have favored.
"You know what I want then, don't you Gui?"
He chuckled, a typical attribute of French people. They were all just here for the party. "But of course, monsieur. I'll see what I can do to get the girl for you."
"Ah, Gui," I said, leaning back in my chair. "What would I do without you?"
Pushing himself up from his table and dropping a few Euros onto it, he smiled rakishly. "Without me as your assistant, if you'll pardon me, you'd be one screwed up piece of shit."
A corner of my mouth kicked up. "Do you think ten thousand would do it?"
"For you, Hiei, I think that all I'll have to is drop your name and she'd come running. À bientôt." And with that, my right-hand man, or, if you would like, my personal assistant vanished in the crowd of people.
Somewhere alone the Rhine
"So that's that?" Colette asked, her eyes narrowing in puzzlement. "That's all you had to do to get her to sleep with you? Just have your servant go and pick her up, giving her a couple thousand?"
Hiei looked at the woman out of the corner of her eyes. "If only it were that damn easy," he sighed, running a hand through my hair and looking out the window as the French countryside raced along beside the train. "Unfortunately, that the woman I saw across the square would prove to be more than a challenge that I thought she would be."
Colette sniffed daintily. "Of course it took more than that. Just because she was a woman did not mean that she could be man-handled by the fact that you're some famous actor."
"You're a smart-ass, you know that?" he snapped angrily.
"But of course," she smiled. "I assume you often called her that, too?"
His eyelids flinched, and he looked down at his lap before he smoothly changed the subject. "It would be ignorant not to say that I was a womanizer. They were simply there, like a fine wine I tasted, occasionally enjoyed and then later disposed of. Initially, a woman couldn't hold my interest after I slept with her. Her flaunty ways to try and fill silence with desperate lies made me sick. So, I would leave, the woman usually sobbing in pieces on the floor. It was a cycle to me: the thrill of the chase, the catch, the discarding. They were all the same to me—I simply didn't care. It was, in a way, my hobby. I'd find some girl who'd be swayed by me, promised her the world and then gave her nothing. It was frighteningly easy to destroy someone's life. And, perversely, I took joy in it."
"So that was what you had planned," she said, never missing a beat. "You were going to treat her like everyone else."
Hiei laughed harshly. "Believe me, it wasn't as if I knew something was wrong with the way I treated women. Despite what you think, Madame Colette, being an actor doesn't make me as a busy as anyone would think. And your people in Hollywood act so because it gets them attention. I had nothing else to do with my life, nothing to do with all the money I raked in from pretending to be someone I wasn't. So what was a better than watching a seemingly innocent girl crack? To me, nothing was. Did I intend to treat her like the slut all women often turned out to be? Hell yes. She was just a woman. Nothing more."
"You are a sick and twisted man," she said, her brown eyes narrowing.
"You don't even know the half of it," I responded lazily. "And so, I had my man Gui track her down and bring her to me. I would seduce her and then rip apart her innocence. What could be better sport than that? Sadly, it would seem, as he later on told me, that Gui would run into some trouble."
The lobby of the Citadiens Hotel
Gui pushed open the old creaky doors of the Hotel and stepped into the lobby. A bald man stood behind the desk, and gave the other man a blinding smile.
"Bonjour, monsieur! Would you a like room or shall I check you in?"
"Neither," he answered, his cold eyes looking around the brightly painted walls.
"Well then, would you care for any directions to a place? Or could I interest you in—"
"Listen you twisted little bastard," Gui snarled as he leaned over the desk. "I don't need anything that I can't get myself. I need to know the room number of the girl that just stepped in here. You know, tall with black hair?"
The man frowned. "I'm afraid I cannot do that, monsieur, it goes against company policy.
"You know what I say to your damn company policy? I'd gladly take a dump on it for you. Now, tell me the goddamn room number."
"Monsieur, non, And there is no need frrom that kind of language."
"Just give me the frickin' room number."
"For the last time, I cannot—"
Gui plopped down a couple hundred euro bills on the table.
"Well, if you ask like that," the man said, calmly pocketing the euro bills and tucking them into his coat, "I'd be glad to help you. Now, let's see..."
Gui watched with narrowed eyes as the man searched through a couple of computer files. "Ah. Here she is. Room number three hundred fifteen. Just go up those stairs to the left," he said, pointing to a small hallway.
"Merci," Gui answered in chilled voice, heading for the stairs. I've never gotten a number that fast, he thought gleefully as he mounted the stairs. I'll have her for Hiei soon enough. When he reached the third level, he pushed open the doors and glanced down the cramped hallway, looking for 315. Spotting the door, he felt myself get excited. The woman had been stunning. Such a beauty needed to be cherished, as she would in the hands of his master. Had he seen her? Pah, nearly every man in the square saw her fragile beauty.
Straightening out his clothes and smoothing his hair, Gui rapped smartly on the door. There was a moments pause before he heard the click of the lock in the door as she pulled it halfway open, clearly barricading him from her room. "Oui?" she asked quizzically.
"Ah, allo, mademoiselle. Comment ca va?"
She had a puzzled look on her face, before saying in sharp, accented French, "What do you want?"
Excellent, Gui thought, chuckling. She speaks French. So many foreigners don't. If she hadn't, this conversation would have been a little difficult to carry on. "Ah, mademoiselle, you'll soon see that we'll be on the same page in a minute. You have heard of Hiei, I presume?"
She frowned, her delightfully full mouth drawing down into a perplexed curve. "Yes…"
"Attend me, please miss. My master, Hiei, would like to hire your services for the evening."
The mention of Hiei's name was usually all that was required to conclude transactions such as this. Therefore Gui was surprised when all he got was a look of annoyance from the woman. And seeing her face clearly now surprised him further. She didn't seem to me like she was the actor's taste at all. Close examination saw fire in those violet eyes, something Hiei didn't usually have time to care for.
The woman did indeed seem to be annoyed to be bothered by this pompous Frenchman, obviously wanting time alone to herself. Someone obviously needed some extra help, for a party no doubt. But to hire them right off the street? Wasn't that stooping a little too low? And was up with this man referring to an actor as his "master?" Obviously, things were done different here in Paris, so she might as well at least be civil to the man. She couldn't outright say no to him without insulting him, could she?
The man was waiting for her answer. He must have been an extremely well paid "servant", for his coat and pants were of a superior quality. He was a tall, middle-aged and not bad-looking with dark hair and dark brown eyes. With eye towards being graceful, she replied "I'm sorry, monsieur, but I really don't need an extra job right now."
"If it's a matter of money, Hiei can be extremely generous."
"I don't need money."
Gui began to worry. She had not been impressed by who Hiei was. Nor did she seem even remotely interested in this honor being bestowed upon her. If she actually refuse—no, the notion was impossible.
"One thousand Euros," he offered.
If he thought that would conclude the haggling, the man was sorely mistaken. The woman stared at him incredulously. Was he mad to offer that much money to her? Obviously the guy was working with dirty money, and she didn't want to soil her hands with it. Anyone in her position should be happy to take that much money, but she wasn't dumb. She had been raised with a head on her shoulders.
"Look, Je regrette, mais—"
"Two thousand Euros."
"Shut up!" She snapped, becoming slightly wary of the guy now. He was obviously with some French mafia or something. "You can hire a whole legion of maids for that less than that. Now, if you'll excuse me." She began to shut the door, praying he would go away.
Gui sighed. All this ridiculous haggling wasted on a mistake. A maid? Puh, she obviously deranged not to understand his meaning. "Mademoiselle, forgive me for not making myself clear from the start. My master doesn't need the services of a maid. He has seen you and wishes to share your company for the evening, for which you will be generously paid. If I need to be more explicit—"
"No!" She opened the door again, her cheeks hot. "I… ah, think I understand now." The man was crazy. What the hell was up with these people? Just because she was mildly pretty didn't mean she walked around with a sign that said "two dollar whore". "I… I'm flatter, I guess, but not interested."
"Three thousand."
"Non," She snapped. "And you know what you can do with your money? You take it and shove it up your master's ass for all I care! Do you understand how barbaric this conversation even is? Now, good day to you, you miserable son of bitch!" And with that, she slammed the door shut on his face.
Number 14, Rue Neuve de Saint-Mederic
"So she said no?" I asked, skeptically looking up from my tea.
"More than that," Gui said dryly. "She flat out told me to screw myself to hell."
I chuckled. "She sounds like a real challenge, doesn't she?"
"Any woman that was crazy enough to refuse the amount of money I offered her would be," Gui muttered.
I digested this for a moment. Obviously, if the woman had the guts to tell Gui to stick the three thousand Euros she'd been offered where the sun don't shine had to have some sensibility. It might be a little more difficult than what I had prior thought to obtain her. Oh well. That didn't matter. It would make the chase more fun for me, for it was all too easy to take and dispose a woman. A woman who had such beauty as she needed to be savored… it would be much easier to do so if she insisted upon me chasing her.
It would most definitely make the end result a sweeter one.
"You do realize, don't you Gui, that this will be the first time I've ever had a woman say no to me?" I said, picking up my book absently.
"Odd, I know," Gui said sarcastically.
"But, if she insists upon being wooed, I guess we can give that to her." I glanced up to Gui, a small smile resting upon my lips. "I wasn't sent to that damn finishing school for nothing."
"Would you like the usual?" Gui asked, inspecting a fingernail. "Flowers? Chocolates? Promise you don't intend to keep?"
"No," I answered wryly. "Something a bit more creative than that. Something that she won't know I'm using to obtain her."
Gui rolled his eyes. "Whatever you want," he said.
Seat N-16
"Ah," Colette smiled. "I knew she would pull through."
Hiei looked at her lazily. "A typical woman's response."
She hit his arm playfully. "To which I respond, duh. Now, I hope you can see why there's more to your spoiled little world than money."
He laughed harshly. "Trust me, Colette, I knew long before Botan that the world couldn't be brought to me on a silver platter, no matter how much money I would have. As cliché as it is to say, money can't buy everything. Once the transparent glee of it had disappeared, I felt bored with life. I wouldn't go as far as to say that something was missing, for if it was, I didn't have a rat's chance in hell of knowing what it was. You see, I hadn't known anything like what I felt around… around…"
A wrinkly hand was placed on his knee. "It's all right cherie. I'm not stupid enough not to know that you want it back again. I pry, but I know when to stop."
Hiei rolled his eyes. "You misunderstand. Let me start over again. I guess it wouldn't be so bad to say that being the pretty-boy of Paris had its ups. I woman galore, and certainly wasn't missing out on female attention. I was stupid and young, shallow even. So when she came along, somehow… everything seemed to be a little bit different."
"No doubt," Colette answered slyly.
"Look, do you want me to tell the damn story or not?"
Colette laughed. "Go on ahead," she said sweetly.
"I appreciate it," he answered sarcastically. "Now, because she had refused me so, I saw potential. It was a breath of fresh air not to have woman hanging on me all the time. So, I was going to after her myself. In my mind, she was just lying. It was a technique I've had used on me before by women. I didn't care; it only made the end result a sweeter one. Sadly, as it appeared so later on, her life seemed to be as haggard as mine was. And it was the truth that she was telling me, not some bullshit story that I've heard millions of times before. Yet, I still didn't believe her. Eventually, it was what drove her away from me."
"A presumable thing," Colette commented. "Love without trust cannot be meant to be."
"Thanks, Gandhi. I'll file that one away," he said flatly.
Saeka: I don't think even I can explain the lack of my updating, so I don't believe I'll even bother.
Everyone but the reviewer "an angry American" can ignore this: You know what buddy? Screw You. I don't give a damn what you think about my story. If you're too immature to handle foreign people, then that's your problem. And trust me, the French agree with you. You can take the Eiffel Tower as their own personal middle finger to you. I don't know what makes you think that you're better than someone else just because they don't have the name "American" attached to them. And if any little dipstick is immature its you. So you know what, YOU suck ass. Please don't review my story again, shithead. But you want to know what makes me sick? You didn't even have the balls to leave your email. Coward.
For everyone else, I'm sorry if you read that unnecessarily! I meant no offense to anyone else but that one flamer. Hopefully, the next update will be a lot sooner in coming. So, pleasssseee take your time to review. I'll gladly email you response and review some of your stories, if you want me to. Sound like I'm buttering you up?
Cha. Make me a tiny bit happy. Review, please?
(--turns puppy dog eyes upon readers--)
Translations: (so many people asked for these, I thought I might as well put them in ) I put pronunciations in for some of them, but eventually thought, what the hell. So if you really want pronunciations, Id is delighted to put them in.
Vous Desriez: Literally meaning, "your desires", traditional for a waiter to ask their customer.
Je voudrais…: (Jay-voodray) I would like…
Si'l Vous Plait: Literally, if it pleases you...
D'accord: All right...
Un instant: just a moment...
Comment ca va: (CommoSAY va) How does it go?
Je regrette, mais: I'm sorry, but…