Chapter 18
By the time they rushed back to the ballroom, a large crowd had gathered. Forming a rink in the ice-smooth marble of the ballroom, the ladies, the gentlemen, were all audiences in a circus performance. The show of the night happened to be provided by the hosts themselves.
"What?!" Monsieur Laurién demanded.
"Mon époux, oui, you heard me correctly. We were just having a little fun in the room, but don't worry, I still love you," Madame Laurién replied indifferently.
"Love me!" her husband bit out, incredulous, "Oui, you love me so much that you slept with him!"
Following the accusatory point of his long finger, Tiffany felt the culprit looked familiar. She was right. It was none other than Monsieur Rigattro!
Lurking behind the flashy, gaudy figure of the Madame, the wicked satisfaction in his beady eyes was revolting. His disheveled shirt and the crimson lipstick prints on his cheek said it all. Presently, he was looking as though he were some hero. His twisted mind made out that he was desirable and sexy. After all, hadn't he successfully tempted Madame Laurién?
Tiffany's bare rounded shoulders gave a shudder. Yes, she was grateful to Sébastien for sparing her such a suitor. Come to think of it, she was grateful to him for more reasons than one. However, it seemed like her mental listing of reasons would have to end there. The argument between husband and wife had become heated, especially with the irritating presence of Monsieur Rigattro.
"You…" Monsieur Laurién panted in anger, "You cheated me! You… adultère! You are shameless!"
"And what shame have I got to lose? I have already been stripped of dignity by your impotence! You deceived me in the first place. You ruined my married life!" A gasp from the audience was quickly succeeded by whispers of speculation and disapproval.
Monsieur Laurién's gaunt face was exploding with rage, and his eyes were flashing with danger. Such embarrassment was not easy for a man to accept. His hand rose to strike his shrieking wife.
Sébastien hurried out of the crowd and pulled Monsieur Laurién away. Hitting his wife would only have led to a fight, not to mention the total destruction of his reputation. Monsieur Laurién seemed to sizzle cool with the words of reason Sébastien offered him as he was dragged away.
It seemed like they were all spared a fight.
Confident that the host's dangerous anger had receded, a small group of young men foolishly decided to amuse themselves with what they had just learnt. They started laughing at Monsieur Laurién.
As quick as lightning, the frenzied glint was back in the host's eyes and a new addition was added to his hand. From his coat pocket, he pulled a gun and shot the most provocative of the men.
The gunshot silenced the gossip.
Thick, scarlet drops of blood stained the man's bleached shirt. The red puddle then spread, expanding and saturating. Standing perfectly straight, the man placed his hand over his wound, and stared in shocked wonder at his stained hands. Then, he collapsed.
The hall was in a pandemonium. Men ran in their polished shoes, hollering at their valets, ladies stepped on each other's full skirts, then limped out when their heels broke, and children were tripped over, their cries adding to the chaos. Panic ruled every soul in Paris' most civilized ballroom. It didn't take long for a human stampede to form, all the windows were smashed and the doors were wrenched open in effort to escape the psychotic host and his malicious weapon.
Swept up in the stampede, Tiffany found herself being pushed toward the main door. Yet, her family was nowhere to be found. In the stampede, all she could see was a dizzying spin of sweaty bodies, too busy saving themselves. They all looked the same. Black and white, black and white tuxedos with indistinguishable faces and identical expressions, oh, there wasn't a familiar face in the blur of people.
Tiffany had to gasp for breath in the stuffy ballroom, she mind started to whirl and her legs became jelly as more people shoved her toward the door. The French swearing of the gentlemen and shrieks of the ladies gave her head an agonizing ache. Her surroundings started to fade into nothing.
A rough push and a blow from the side sent her reeling and toppling to the floor. She didn't feel her head touch the floor.