Hey guys, I'm back! Sorry, this took so long. I've been busy. However, now that I'm on break I can write more!
Now some info about the chapter:
Please, if you do not know the French pronunciation of "Gilbert," look it up. It just sounds so much better than the English way. And all French words are in italics with translations in parentheses. (Some aren't because they are well known, but if you don't understand I can change it.)
(Jefferson POV)
"We're live in 10 minutes, people! 10 minutes!"
I looked up to see a woman in overalls with a navy blue Yankees hat. She spins her finger around in a wrap it up symbol before walking over towards some crew members having difficulty with the speaker system.
I sighed as I tried my best not to flinch as a makeup artist came over to apply some concealer and blush to my cheeks. As I had nothing else to do, I looked over the woman in front of me. She had honey-blond hair in a pixie cut with the purple highlights, the front was longer than the rest and hung down to her neck. She also had nice bangs completely dyed violet. Her face was done with the best makeup I've ever seen, not on me of course.
When I was done scanning her face, she backed up to survey her work. I took the advantage to study her form. The woman was petite and looked like she was European. She was probably in her 20s, maybe 25 or so. I shook myself out of my inspection to notice she had finished hers as well. Now she was looking at me with an eyebrow raised.
I guess I wasn't as discreet with my observations as I thought.
I just smirked and let my "superstar charm" take over.
"Sorry doll. I guess I was too distracted by your good looks to thank you for perfecting mine." I gestured to my newly done makeup.
She smirked before rolling her eyes. "You're welcome your highness," she said with a sarcastic bow.
She also had an accent, European as I suspected. Hmm...sounded French. Nice I like the French ones.
I raised her head with my index finger pushing lightly on her chin. I looked into her eyes with a small smile.
"Just call me Thomas," I looked down at her name tag, "Ms. Emly."
She scoffed and turned away, probably to hide the slight blush I saw rising on her cheeks.
"Stupid hot celebrities," she mumbled quietly.
I smirked and went to make another comment—
"5 minutes people! Let's get this show on the road!" the same girl walked by and paused when she saw me with Emily.
"Emily! What are you doing?!" she asked walking up to us.
Emily looked up slightly startled and rushed to gather her blush pad and other brushes.
"I'm sorry! He just—" The woman raised an eyebrow before folding her arms waiting for her to continue.
"Uh, nevermind. It's unimportant," she said with her head down.
The woman seemed unsatisfied, but let it go. She then looked at me with a wary gaze.
I smiled innocently and winked, causing her to roll her eyes before turning back to Emily.
"Well, come on! You still have work to do! You can flirt with Mr, Jefferson later."
Emily sputtered indignantly as she followed the woman to another area of the stage.
I watched for a while before becoming disinterested and checking social media on my phone.
Just as I was laughing at some of the "slightly" overly desperate attempts to gain my attention in some newer posts from my followers, Emily came back.
"Well, look who's back. Are you up to some more flirting?"
As I said this, I wiggled my eyebrows in a way that always got girls to either blush or laugh.
To my surprise, she only sighed in defeat before yanking on my arm and pulling me off my chair.
"Come on Mr. Jefferson, it's your cue."
She then continued to drag me off toward the curtain by the left stage entrance.
I turned around and grabbed her hands she was pushing me with once we were right outside the door.
"I said, you can call me Thomas doll."
She just smiled overly bright and took her hand back.
"It's showtime, Mr. Jefferson," she said with extra stress on my name, then before I knew it I was in front of a large crowd practically screaming at me with ten lights all directed at my face.
I quickly regained my senses and put on a smile, waving to the crowd.
I walked over to the host and shook hands as she greeted me with a joke.
I easily responded with my usual wit setting the crowd on fire in laughter.
I smiled again before sitting down in the signature guest star seat.
Time to get to work.
(Lafayette POV)
"Vote Washington for 2017 President!" I yelled around at all the people in the cafe.
"Gilbert, quiet down will you? We're trying to have a casual lunch out, no start a campaigning convention," he whispered smiling politely to the few people that look this way due to my outburst.
I just chuckled and winked at the people still looking at us.
A few just scowled before turning back to their food. Some others, mainly femmes, blushed before looking away quickly.
We walked further into the restaurant and took our seats at a table near a window close to the bar.
Washington picked up a menu and I decided to actually look around and see where exactly we were eating.
The warm brown theme matched the autumn weather we've been having the past two months.
The cafe was quaint but very popular as there was someone seated at every table enjoy their mid-afternoon with a warm coffee.
There were booths, wooden chairs, and tables, as well as two couches to lounge on. The restaurant had shelves of old music CDs and books. Customers would choose a book to read or could request a CD to be played while dining.
It was old-fashioned, yet still very popular by the looks of it.
I turned back to my menu scanning for any type of pastry, preferably of French origins, to satisfy my hunger.
"You've chosen a nice place for us to meet George."
Said man looked up startled by the disruption of the calm silence.
"Oh, uh... yeah. I saw a nice review of this place in the New York Times and decided to try it out."
I hummed just as a waitress came to take our orders.
"Hello, sirs. I'm Adri (No she isn't Adrienne.) and I'll be your waiter today. What would you like to order?" She said this all with a polite smile as she took out a notepad to write on.
The woman was actually very beautiful. She had a tanned olive skin tone and dark hazel hair that was up in a french bun on the top of her head. There were a few curly strands that escaped framing her almond-shaped, warm, brown eyes.
That's a nicely done bun. I can respect a woman that can do a french bun right.
George smiled at her and put down his NY Times newspaper he brought to read, prepared to order.
"I'll have a… Chicken and portabella panini on whole wheat bread with… A Chai tea latte," he said with a smile, looking over the menu as he spoke.
Adri nodded and wrote down what he ordered.
"Iced or hot?" she asked looking back up at George, referring to his drink.
"Hot please."
She smiled and wrote it down.
"Alright then…"
As she finished writing, Adri turned to me.
"And you sir?"
I smiled up at her letting my "French charm" take over.
"Well mon cher, I would like the... pain au chocolat and the… Noisette s'il vous plait," I spoke with my adopted accent from my ten years in France. It certainly helped to get what I want. Or to see a pretty girl flustered.
Adri blushed a little and looked to George for assistance.
"Uh… can you please translate that?"
George smiled apologetically, for the fourth time that day, and said, "He wants a chocolate croissant and an Italian Macchiato."
She nodded and blushed slightly as she turned back to me.
"Uh, sorry sir, but we only have regular croissants," she said with an apologetic smile as she tried to avoid my eyes while still facing me.
Oh well.
"Alright, then I'll have… Le baguette au prosciutto et à la mozzarella fraîche and the, how you say…?" I looked to Washington and he pointed to my drink order on his menu. "The Italian Macchiato I believe."
She nodded and looked behind me to George.
"Prosciutto Fresh Mozzarella Cheese Baguette," he translated politely. As she looked down to write the order, he gave me an annoyed look.
"Must you always speak French when we go out in public? People are going to start to believe you're foreign," he paused and lowered his voice before saying the rest.
"And you know we can't have a rumor like that going around for the presidency."
My usual smirk fell to a sheepish smile.
"I know, mon amie, but there are records that I was born here. My accent might be suspicious as well as my speech, but they can go through my records to see I spent 5 years in Paris! No worries!" As I finished speaking, my smirk fell back into place.
"Plus, it is nice to see them flustered no?" I said this with a wink to the waitress to which she quickly blushed.
George just rolled his eyes, but a small smile was on his face.
Once Adri regained her bearings, she looked back up with a bright smile on her face. I noticed she made a great effort to look at George and not me.
Now that won't do.
I now gave her my entire attention watching her fingers twirl a pen and fix her hair nervously as she felt my gaze on her.
"Uh, w-would," Adri cleared her throat before continuing. "Would that be all?"
George opened his mouth to answer politely but I beat him to it.
"Oui, mademoiselle."
I bent over as I took her hand.
And I kissed it softly my lips only brushing against her smooth skin for 2 seconds.
I hovered for a moment and could smell a hint of cinnamon.
I raised my head slowly. I could almost feel the heat of Washington's glare on me.
I looked into her eyes and smirked as I saw her attempts to ignore me were dashed away completely to be replaced with a bright tomato red blush flaring across her cheeks.
"I, uh, um uh…" she nervously laughed fixing her already perfect hair again.
I raised an eyebrow at her flustered face.
"I... I'll just go get you food," she said with a slightly raised voice before she dashed away as quickly as she could without drawing too much attention.
I looked after her retreating form trying to avoid the scolding I would undoubtedly receive if I dared turn around.
When she had left my sight, I heard a throat clearing behind me.
Well, I guess I can't avoid it forever.
I turned around as slowly as I could to see an annoyed bald man staring back at me.
"Oui…" I started before seeing him raise an eyebrow… "I mean, yes?"
"What did I just tell you?" he said pausing between each word to put more emphasis.
I looked down at my lap. I felt kinda like a child being chastised.
"Lafayette?"
Damn, full last name.
"... Not to speak in French so much."
"And what else?"
"... Not to draw attention to myself."
"And what did you just do?"
"..."
"Lafayette?"
I sighed but replied. (Rhymes am I right?)
"I spoke French and drew attention to myself."
"Exactly."
I looked up to see him smiling in amusement.
"What am I going to do with you?"
I smiled back and chuckled.
"Hey what can I say? Je suis Français (I am French)."
George rolled his eyes again, although this time it was only amusement.
"Gilbert, we've been over this. You shouldn't go around saying you're French, or the press will start speculating if you were actually born in America."
I smirked as we revisited my third favorite subject.
"Whatever you say, mon amie."
A few minutes later we got our food, from a different waiter, although he was just as cute.
As I took my first bite into my sandwich, I looked up to watch the TV. It was one of those talk shows with guest star…
"Oh no, not him," I said laying my head in my arms in embarrassment.
Washington looked up in confusion at the television before he chuckled in realization.
"You know," he said nudging my left arm from across the table.
"He is your brother. You should at least try to get along."
I looked up to glare at Washington.
"Yeah, unlikely. He is un cul arrogant (an arrogant ass). Why would I ever converse with him?"
George clicked his tongue and spoke before sipping his drink.
"Language."
I snorted. "You don't even know what I said." He just gave me a look. "I know you well enough to say with confidence that there is no way that sentence had no curses in it."
I smiled and didn't try to deny the statement.
I turned back to the show to see him finish his entrance.
"Well Thomas, how wonderful it is to see you again."
"Aw, thanks darlin'. It's always a pleasure to be here."
The hostess blushed as he winked with a smirk frighteningly similar to mine.
"So we've heard about you starring in a new move hmm?"
"Ah yes, uh, it's called The Mansion Where it Happens."
"Yes, a horror movie if I'm not mistaken."
"Yeah a mystery Thriller, my first if I, uh, might add."
"Really? Well then, this should be an exciting new experience."
"Yes, but it's fun! I enjoy working with my fellow actors and especially my partner if ya know what I mean."
Ugh, I can't stand that man.
"Come on George, it's about time for us to go," I said finishing off my sandwich and wiping my mouth. I didn't want to listen to him anymore.
Washington looked up mid-bite. "But I'm not done yet Gilbert. We can leave in five minutes okay?"
Uh, no. Not okay at all.
"Yeah, but we have so much work to do for the campaign. And it's getting a little late. I want to get some work done by at least 6 this evening."
George frowned at my odd behavior but shrugged.
"Alright...but when did you become so organized?"
"When I decided I wanted to bring about change and help America. Now can we please leave?" I asked getting a little annoyed.
George frowned at my strange reaction but got up.
"Okay, okay. I'll pay the check," he said going up to the counter to pay.
I put on my jacket getting ready to go when I felt a figure looking down at me.
I looked up to see Adri standing over me with a small smile.
"Uh, hey?" I said with a polite smile, unsure of what was going on.
She bit her lip but responded, "Hey…"
She nervously shifted her feet before handing a slip of paper.
I took it to see a number with her name written in neat cursive with a heart beside it.
I looked back up at her to see a bright smile.
"Call me sometime huh?" she said before turning away with a wink.
I stared after her with my mouth slightly agape.
Washington walked back to see me in the same position.
"Uh, Gilbert? Are you okay?" he said with concern laced in his voice.
After a few seconds, my mouth slowly morphed into a smile and I finally looked at him.
"Nothing, I just won myself a phone number with my accent français lisse (smooth French accent)," I said as I showed him the paper.
He looked at it, me, then looked back at the waitress staring at us from afar before she swiftly turned away.
"Well, that explains the free food."
I raised an eyebrow at this.
"What do you mean?"
"When I went to pay the guy told me it was already covered," he said with a smile as he shook his head amused.
I laughed as I stood wrapping my arm around his shoulders as we walked to the door.
(Mulligan POV)
I walked over to the door slightly distracted by the big star.
Just then the door opened to show the actual star.
"Well, are you going to come in and help me get dressed or not?" I shook off my slight surprise and scolded myself.
Come on Mulligan. Don't mess up on the first day of the job.
"Uh sorry, I'll just come on in I guess."
He squinted his eyes at me before scanning my physique.
I seemed to have passed some test because he stepped aside to let me in.
I walked in quickly before he changed his mind and shut me out.
He shut the door loudly and walked over to get a drink from the mini fridge by his mirror.
"Wanna beer?" I shook my head no. "No thanks."
He hummed, "Suit yourself," and took a swig.
He walked to his plush black chair and twirled it around to look at me.
"Well? Aren't you going to dress me?"
Realization dawned on me and I put the outfit prepared for his talk show appearance.
"Uh alright so here's the suit…"
"Yeah, I guessed."
I blushed, thankful my dark complexion covered it up, and nervously fixed my Hamilton beanie.
"So…"
"I'll just undress while you do… whatever."
I choked on my own spit as he suddenly pulled off his shirt. I quickly looked away blushing profusely.
I could hear him chuckling behind my back.
"Aw, look at that. A clothing stylist is afraid to see a guy strip."
I scowled and turned back around trying my best to just look at his face.
"I'm not afraid. I was only trying to respect your privacy."
He shrugged and took off his pants next.
I sat down on the small sofa behind me and tried to distract myself by looking around at the decorations of the room. It was pretty plain except for the pictures around the wall of all the guest stars that have been on this show in the last 10 years.
There was one picture not on the wall that was lying against some books that lined the shelves in the room as more of a decoration than to have a use.
It was of Jefferson obviously, although he was younger by maybe 8 or 9 years. And there was another guy with him that held a strikingly similar resemblance. His hair was up in a bun and he had a French flag across the shirt he was wearing. I assumed they were in Paris as the Eiffel Tower was in the background.
The guy seemed familiar but I couldn't place my finger on it.
Also, he was kinda cute, but I digress.
"Hey, you. How do I look?"
I turned around to see Jefferson in the suit I designed. It was a nice fit and defined his muscles as I planned to. He looked good.
"Looks nice. Just let me fix the collar…" I stood up and walked over to fix it in the back as he looked at himself in the mirror.
"Done," I said, stepping back.
Jefferson stared at the mirror a little longer before walking over to open the door.
"Thanks, you can leave now," he said barely looking at me as he pulled out his phone.
I sighed but resigned myself to this being his normal behavior. I walked over to the door and turned around once I was outside.
"You're wel—"
He shut the door in my face.
Rude.
About half an hour later, I walked back to the same door and lifted my fist to knock.
Just before my hand hit the door it swung opened to reveal an annoyed Jefferson.
"Where have you been? Nevermind just get in and help me change."
He yanked on my arm and next thing I know I helping him put a magenta suit on.
"Uh, why are you wearing this…?" I asked as fixed his cravat. I had no memory of designing this outfit, and trust me, I would know if I did.
He sighed deeply and rolled his eyes.
"It's that Hamilton thing. Ever since it became popular everyone has been trying to pretend I'm the Thomas Jefferson. I mean Daveed Diggs and I look nothing alike right?" He said looking to me.
"Uh…" I came at a blank as they looked like twins. Actually, I thought it was Daveed I was dressing at first before he offered me a beer and I saw his attitude.
He sighed again, "Nevermind don't answer that."
I nodded as I resumed fixing his outfit.
A few minutes later I was about to leave, my hand on the doorknob, when it swung open to show a short man with a crisp slate gray suit and a dark complexion a shade lighter than mine.
I looked down at him as he looked up at me.
"Um excuse me," he said politely before turning to cough into a handkerchief in his breast pocket.
"Ahem, sorry, but I'm looking for my client?"
I turned to look at Jefferson who moved forward and shoved me out of the way.
Once again, rude.
"Hey Jemmy, what's up?" he said with a much softer tone than the one he used with me.
"I wanted to talk to you about The Mansion Where it Happens. You see—"
"Wait a moment Jemmy," he said before turning to look at me.
"Uh, it's rude to eavesdrop. You can go now," he said along with a shoo gesture from his hand.
And a third time, rude!
"Uh sorry, I'll just go."
I said walking past this "Jemmy" as he gave me an apologetic smile.
"Goodbye, it was nice to meet you…?" he said holding out his hand.
Finally, someone with manners.
"Mulligan, Hercules Mulligan," I said with a smile taking his hand.
"James Madison," he said.
"Well nice to meet you as well James," I said before I turned to leave.
(Lafayette)
I groaned in frustration as I fell back on my bed.
"Why is it so hard to choose the perfect outfit to fit my amazing personality?!"
I turned over to look at a cover of a magazine. It had a picture of a tall dark-skinned man in a fashionable outfit sporting a beanie.
"Bien sûr!" (Of course) I exclaimed as I sat up pulling the magazine into my eager hands.
I flipped to page 5 to see a smaller picture of the man and right beneath it the answer to my problem.
"Dieu merci for fashion magazines. And especially you Hercules Mulligan." I scanned the article for good date outfit advice.
My eyes lit up as I found the perfect choice. I rushed to my closet trying hard not to fall over the pile of clothes I had thrown about in my desperate search for something to wear.
A few minutes later, I was dressed in blue jeans and a novelty white t-shirt under a burgundy sweater. I wrapped a gray infinity scarf around my neck as a finishing touch.
I admired myself in a body-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door.
"Hmm, pas mal (not bad)," I mumbled under my breath.
I was fixing my hair up into a bun when I heard an alarm go off.
I looked down at my wrist to see that my alarm for 10:15 am went off. About fifteen minutes before it was time to go.
I walked out my door, grabbing my keys to lock up on my way out.
Ping!
I looked down to see a text from the very person I was going out to meet.
From Adri~: Hey handsome. You ready for breakfast?
I smiled before texting back.
To Adri~: Oui mon cher. I hope you like croissants
From Adri~: Who doesn't like French pastries? And would you please at least tell me where we are going?
To Adri~: Non, it's a surprise! I'll just meet you at the restaurant where you work.
From Adri~: Fine… I guess I'll see you soon.
To Adri~: Remember we have to be there before noon for the, how you say, royal treatment.
From Adri~: Alright, see ya.
To Adri~: Au revoir.
I put my phone in my pocket and walked to my Lexus LS luxury sedan and started to drive down the busy New York streets.
I frowned as I looked up at the darkening sky. The weather forecast was a possible tropical storm passing by. It was believed to be coming up from the Caribbean and only skim by the east coast. The weather was said to have a possible status change to a category one hurricane, but no more than that.
I winced as I heard a loud rumble of thunder as the clouds crashed above me while the wind whipped my face.
Well, I really hope that forecast was correct.
A few minutes later, I was nearing the cafe where we planned to meet. Through the windows, I could see an employee flip to show the closed sign before grabbing their things. I frowned and parked my car nearby before approaching the man.
"Hey!" I called out watching them turn around as they closed the doors behind them.
They had a look of confusion on their face but still responded, "Uh, hey. Can I help you?" he asked while turning away to lock the door.
"Uh, you're locking up a little early aren't you? I mean, it's not even noon, no?" I said with a slight laughing tone at the end of my statement.
He frowned before squinting up at the sky.
"Well, the storm is getting pretty close. We are under a hurricane watch for the moment. Boss said to close up early. Don't wanna risk it you know?"
I nodded as I squinted up at the sky as well. The dark gray clouds were now practically black. It was hard to tell it was daytime at all.
I looked back to see the man walking off with a wave of his hand.
I walked back to my car and sat in the seat for a while considering this new information.
I took out my phone to text Adri.
To Adri: Hey, maybe we should reschedule for tomorrow? The weather is starting to look pretty bad.
From Adri: Yeah I agree. I don't want to go out with the sky looking like this so… same time tomorrow?
To Adri: Oui, until then Adri.
From Adri: Gil, you are too cheesy for your own good.
I chuckled at this and was about to respond in a cheesy manner when she sent me another text.
Please stay safe.
I looked at the screen for a moment with a small smile before typing a response.
To Adri: I will. And the same to you mon cher.
I tossed the phone away before driving back home.
The storm was turning out to hover longer than expected. It seemed as if it was right over the city.
The dark clouds gave the impression of the night and the howling winds pushed harshly against people walking quickly down the streets. The fall leaves were a mess on my windshield being picked by the wind. I looked up with concern at the sky through the sunroof of my car to see an umbrella being pushed around by the wind.
Then as if the dam broke I heard a loud crash of thunder before the rain started to downpour.
"Mon Dieu (My God)…" I mumbled quietly under my breath as the branches were ripped off of trees.
This is definitely not just a tropical storm passing by…
So... Let's hope Lafayette doesn't die! (Don't worry he won't die until sometime after chapter 10.)
Au revoir!
~PJOandHP4life
