A Wedding in Paris.
By the time that the month of October arrived, Sebastian had become much more accustomed to his new routine in Ohio. Dave was also happy, enjoying his new role, bolstered by the fact that the team was having its most successful season for decades; the media was more than happy to attribute that to the new arrival on the coaching staff. The longer serving members of that same team were also happy to acknowledge it, so there was no tension in the camp, much to everyone's delight. Sebastian had of course been to the stadium to visit, and had been warmly welcomed, which was a far cry from what he might have expected just a few years ago in less enlightened times. None of the other members of the coaching staff was out and proud, nor were any of the players, but Sebastian knew that there were some that had talked to Dave in private and admitted that they were like him, but did not yet have his courage…
Sebastian had also discovered that his new role with the Warblers, a teaching role in all but name, was much less of a nightmare than he might once have imagined. The boys had welcomed him with open arms, listening to his advice when he gave it with care and attention. He guessed that having been a performer himself until recently had given him an advantage; his reputation proceeded him. He was at great pains not to show even the slightest amount to Peter of course, telling the boys from the start that they alone would decide who should perform solos, and should there be a tie, and Peter be one of those involved, then he would call on Thad to adjudicate.
He had worked with them a great deal on the two things that had once been the group's weaknesses; choreography and stagecraft. He knew from experience that in the competitive world of show choirs that the way a group performed on stage, and how much of a spectacle they produced was of equal importance to the way that their vocals sounded. Their performance at Sectionals had been good, and they had passed through to the next round without a problem, but he knew that the next round would be more intense, and as such, they could not afford to rest upon their laurels…
As well as the Warblers, Sebastian found himself being asked to work with the drama groups at Dalton. This had started as he had been begged to assist with one of them when the absence of the usual teacher had threatened to cancel the class, and he had found the whole experience an enjoyable one. The boys involved had also found it useful, and had come to see him en masse, begging him to return. He had never liked to let an audience down, and so he had agreed to do so, on the proviso that the drama teacher in question had no objection to it. They did not, stating that it was no bad thing to have young blood involved in the tuition, particularly when the person involved had been performing on the Broadway stage so recently…
What had started as one group had soon become all of them, and he had even found himself drafted in to sit at the teacher's desk for an entire afternoon when the drama teacher had to attend a hospital appointment, and there was no other member of staff able to cover. It was a little daunting at first, but soon he realised that it was like one of the workshops that they had all been obligated to conduct with freshmen when he had been a senior at NYADA. Of course, what he did not know was that the illness that had taken the teacher to the hospital was one that would force them to retire, and the lack of cover was orchestrated by Thad, with the blessing of Principal Lefevre, as part of a long term plan to have Sebastian join the teaching staff on a fulltime basis…
Having the name of a recognised Broadway performer, a winner of multiple Tony Awards, on the list of staff at the school would stand out, showing everyone that Dalton was a school that was committed to the arts; having a noted performer on the staff to bring out the talents of the next generation would be a massive plus. Thad was convinced that Sebastian had within him the skills to be an excellent teacher. He was sure that once his friend realised that his role would bring little of the marking that an academic subject brought, he would see that the job was one that would allow him to be with his family, whilst satisfying all of the creative urges that he had.
It was in the middle of the month of October that Sebastian found himself heading back to New York, en route to Paris, where he would attend the wedding of his oldest friend, François, to his fiancé Yves. Dave was unable to join him, as due to his success in the league, there was now a vital game scheduled for the same weekend, and there was no possibility of him not being present for it. Sebastian had kind of been expecting that something of that nature might occur, so although it was a great disappointment, he understood, as did his Parisian friend.
Nick and Jeff had also been invited to the ceremony, but the former also found that he was unable to attend at the last moment. An outbreak of severe food poisoning had taken place at a conference at the UN building; Nick had not been in attendance, but enough of his colleagues had that he was compelled to work on the weekend to provide essential cover. He insisted though that Jeff should go with Sebastian, and that Wes should go with him. He knew that both his husband and son had been looking forward to the event, and he did not want them to miss out.
Trent and Rory would also be joining them on the flight that Friday night, so they made a party of five in total. They did so with fingers crossed that there would be no hitches or delays, as the wedding was on Saturday evening, and they had to fly back on Sunday at lunchtime, as they had jobs to get to, and school was a must for Wes. On the plane, the youngster was happy to sit with his Uncles Trent and Rory, which allowed his papa to catch up with Sebastian as they took off and ate their meal. Then the lights were dimmed, and they all tried to catch up on their sleep; for once, all of them dozed off quickly, looking forward to the great events of the following day…
They made their own way from the airport to the apartment near the Champs-Élysées that was owned by the Girard family, soon to be the property of François, and his to do with as he wished, his parents intending to retire at the end of the year and move permanently to Provence. They would not be at the apartment themselves, having made arrangements to stay with family friends, and allow the newlyweds time alone together. As it happened, Yves' parents had presented them a night in the best suite in the top hotel in Paris as their wedding gift, so they too would be absent. The apartment was therefore available for Sebastian and the others to stay in that night, with the instruction to leave the keys with the concierge when they left for the airport.
That latter instruction had put a tiny bit of fear into Sebastian's heart, as François revealed that it was the same venerable lady that occupied the position as had done when he had been misspending his youth in the city., and she had never been too pleased to see him arrive, thinking he was leading the nice Girard boy astray. For that reason he hurried past the door to her ground floor apartment as soon as he stepped into the building, racing for the elevator at double quick speed, a sight that made Trent shake his head sadly, whilst Rory and Jeff failed to stifle their laughter.
On knocking at the apartment door, it was opened by Jean-Marc, who along with Luke was assisting the groom-to-be in getting ready for the ceremony. There had been no bucks party the night before, no last night of drunken debauchery, as they were all much older and wiser than they had been when Sebastian had first met them. They found François sitting at the kitchen table with a plate of pastries and a cup of hot chocolate, looking fresh and youthful. He hugged them all in turn, then sympathised with Jeff and Sebastian on the absence of their respective husbands.
"I'm just so grateful that you were prepared to come such a long way for such a short spell of time to share my wedding day with me. It means so much…"
"It is my duty to be here, to see that Yves lives up to the great promise that he showed, and makes my oldest friend happy," replied Sebastian happily.
"That answer is exactly why we were such good amis, my cher Guillaume. We promised all those years ago to always have each other's back, and that has not altered. Now, it is time that I got dressed for the ceremony; would you come and help me with that, my cher ami? Jean-Marc and Luke are good guys, but they are nowhere near as fashion conscious as you are, and in any case, I would like to chat with you in private…"
Sebastian happily followed his friend to his bedroom, the room that he had called his since childhood, a room in which they had spent many happy hours together as two rebellious teenagers. The décor had changed, and the bed was larger now, but it was still familiar, and even the scent of the room was exactly the same now as it had been then. He sat on the bed as François began to go through his usual routine, enhancing his actions just a little due to the fact he was getting married in a few hours. It was one that Sebastian remembered from his teens…
"I know that you are thinking about the days when we were young and free…and stupid," said François suddenly. "I have been too recently, all of the time… If you had not been caught in the bar in the police raid, if your maman had not sent you away in disgrace, what would have happened to us? When it all happened, it was a wake up call for me, and I stopped living that hedonistic lifestyle. I refocused on my studies, I stopped drinking to excess, I started to use my hand more…"
François paused as Sebastian chuckled at that reference, but then continued, "I think we would both have ended up in severe trouble had our lives not be turned around. I think we would be living with HIV, or worse. The drugs would have become stronger, the need for chemical enhancement greater… In my view, looking back on it now, what happened to us then was no bad thing."
Sebastian nodded, then said, "I agree; much as I hated what had happened at the time, our seperation and my return to the USA did stop our descent into what might well have been a very different future. I don't regret any of what we did though… but if Francis ever acts that way, well he will be in so much trouble!"
It was François turn to laugh then, as he came over to sit on the bed beside Sebastian. "There has been one thing that I have wondered about the most… Do you think, had you still been here, that you and I might have become a couple?"
"Yeah, I think we probably would have done, and that would have been no bad thing. I was very much in love with you at the time…" admitted Sebastian. "However, that was not the course that our lives set us upon, and I love Dave with all of my heart and soul…"
"Just as I love Yves… But you will always be my best and oldest friend, Guillaume, the keeper of my secrets," said François. He turned to Sebastian, and pulled him into a tight hug, which was immediately returned. In each others arms, for a moment, two men in their thirties were transported back to their teens, hugging each other after a night of hedonism and pleasure, preparing to snuggle in bed all night, entwined together…
Suddenly Sebastian pulled away, jumping up, aware that something could be about to happen that shouldn't. "Okay, so we need to get you dressed in your best suit, and into that crisp white shirt hanging up over there, with a well tied tie. Then we get you over to the office of the Maire, and get you hitched. We need to get a move on, or people will be starting to think that we are reliving old times, and that you will be leaving Yves to stand there as I desert Dave for you…" Sebastian meant that as a joke, but his face was bright red, and guilt ridden, as for a moment…
"No, that would not do at all. We aren't boys in love anymore," replied François, who came over to where his friend was now standing and kissed him on the lips nonetheless. Then he headed over to the wardrobe to retrieve the shirt hanging there, and get out the designer suit that he had chosen for the most important day of his life. Sebastian turned away as his friend began to undress, looking at the ground, his face still burning…
The venue for the wedding was the office of the local Maire, the leader of the local arrondissement. The offices in question were not the sort of sterile, functional, modern building that the city had out in the suburbs, but rather a grand building constructed at the start of the twentieth century, which had retained all of the lavish flourishes of the period within. The walls were decorated in a rococo style, with grand plaster cartouches and scrollwork above the doorways; the ceilings decorated with mouldings that had been gilded. The floors were warm, honey coloured wood in the main rooms, and lavish patterned tiles in the passageways.
Jeff was in his element, snapping photos of it all, which he intended to use later in a wedding sketch of the happy couple, which would be a belated gift for them. He sent the best of the images on to Nick at once, knowing that his husband would be in his office on the other side of the ocean that they had flown over during the night, and that they would satisfy his love of architecture. Trent and Rory were doing their best to keep Wes amused, but by now the young boy was used to his papa's need to photograph all the beauty that he saw in the world for future reference.
When they entered the wedding suite, they all quickly found their allocated seats, marked with name cards; Jeff was seated at the aisle, almost as if the seating plan had been drawn up to take account of his need to take pictures. Wes was between him and Rory, and seeing that his papa was occupied, he turned to the young Irishman, and whispered, "Uncle Rory, will you be able to tell me when they are married, because I don't understand French yet, although I would like to learn the language one day…"
"Well, to be honest, I am not the greatest with French either," replied Rory. "I think that the moment that they kiss each other will be the moment that they are married."
"I guess… A kiss means the same thing in all languages, doesn't it? Although from what I have seen, French people kiss each other more…" Rory nodded at the truth of that statement, aware of the tradition of greeting each other with a kiss to each cheek amongst family and friends in the country they were currently in. A handshake was more formal, and what they were used to, but to the French it had to seem so cold…
Sebastian was not with them of course, travelling with François as one of his groomsmen, and would also sit apart from them at the front. He knew many of the people that were sitting on his side of the room, and they all greeted him as he walked down the aisle. He had perhaps expected that there would be a little frost in the greeting from François' parents, but the Girards instead greeted him as if he was their long lost son; they had dined out for a long time on the story that their son had met the Queen, and that was of course down to the man that was now before them. There was also a copy of the official photo of the moment she had spoken to François in a large silver frame on a side table in their place in Provence, and everyone that entered the property was shown it with immense pride…
It came as a shock to Sebastian to discover that his friend's parents had also been in London whilst he had been performing there at the National Theatre and had actually been in the audience one night. "Our English might not be the best, but we knew the text of the play, naturally," said M, Girard, in French that Sebastian had no trouble understanding. "Your performance as the Prince of Denmark was by far the best that we have seen; we felt his torment, and saw it etched upon your face. I think that in many ways you channelled your own past into the part. That is what made it so very powerful…"
"Of course, you are now reconciled with both of your parents and your brother, François tells us, and that gives us great pleasure," said Mme Girard. "What we do as parents has such an impact on our children, and it can be so negative… But of course, I am forgetting that you now have children of your own! It is something that I wish for François and Yves as well…" Sebastian smiled, getting the distinct impression that she wished for grandchildren for herself, rather than for his friend to be a father…
Yves was the last to arrive, with his brother at his side, and then, without delay, the ceremony began. Jeff had a sudden moment of panic as he suddenly realised that his son would not understand a single word that was being said, and was at an age where he would ask what was being said constantly. He had a horrible vision of him speaking out loudly just as the question was being asked about impediments, then to his relief he recalled that the French word for silence was silence; his son would know what that meant, and would be quiet in the pause…
The ceremony was not a long one, and soon there was a new married couple in the room. Yves had decided to take the name Girard as his married one, as his own was already very long. The newlyweds kissed, to warm applause from all of those gathered to witness the union, and then they all headed out to the restaurant nearby in which they were hosting a post wedding dinner. It had been closed to accommodate their party, and this time the seating was much less formal, an encouragement that they should all mingle and get to know each other.
Wes was quite content to sit and chat with any of the adults in the room, as most of the children that had attended were older than him, and those of his own age did not speak English. He was able to talk to all of those that spoke even a little English though; he was soon found by Jeff to be sitting and talking animatedly to Mme Girard about his dad, who was working hard to solve the world's problems at the UN, and his Uncle Dave, who was busy coaching his football players. Then, in a whisper, he asked her if she could teach him a little French. She agreed, and in no time Wes could not only greet people in the language, but ask how they were, and where they came from, and he could also reply. The smile on his face when he said, "Bonjour, je m'appelle Wes. Je habite a New York." and was praised by his papa for his accent who had heard it all, made everybody else grin as well.
The wedding celebrations carried on into the middle of the evening, and then began to wind down. The small party from America was soon headed back to François's apartment, which was only a short stroll from the restaurant. The night was dry and clear, and still very mild for the time of year, and so it was no great pain to walk across the city. The cafes and bistros were busy, and the floodlit Sacré-Cœur and Eiffel Tower where both clearly visible in a city where the skyline was still low rise in relation to New York. They entered the apartment building quietly, with Sebastian, oddly quiet, bringing up the rear; then they all heard the shout of "Monsieur!" from the concierge. Sebastian sighed, and passed the apartment keys to Trent with instructions to let themselves in, so he could deal with the expected barrage of insults alone. They hastened up the stairs, the sound of urgent conversation echoing up the srairwell as they climbed.
"I know that he was fearing her reaction, but it has been over 15 years since he was here all the time as a reckless teenager. Surely she has not still got an axe to grind with him?" whispered Jeff urgently.
"I fear that some of the things that he might have done can't be all that easily excused with gentle words and charm," admitted Trent. "In Paris, the events in the lives of the tenants reflect on the building, and of course, on the concierge of the building in question." He opened the door, and they settled in. Jeff went to run a bath for Wes, as it was getting close to his bedtime, and although his son denied it, he knew that the boy was tiring after a long day. The promise of hot chocolate after his bath was enough to persuade the boy to get into the bath…
Trent was already setting up all of the ingredients to make that perfect bedtime drink when Jeff arrived in the kitchen;; seeing his friend doing so, Jeff was relieved as having settled his son in the bath, he had suddenly been struck by the real possibility that he might not be able to make it. He offered to help Trent make it, but he was sent away to join Rory in the living room, where he was watching a documentary about Paris and the arts, fortunately with the benefit of English subtitles. No sooner had Jeff left than Trent found himself joined by Sebastian. "Lecture over with?" he asked, and his fellow musketeer smiled.
"It was actually very brief, and to be honest, I think that she really just wanted my autograph. It turns out that her granddaughter is a big fan of the theatre, and knows all about me, so having my signature on a programme from my Hamlet performance at the National Theatre will make the young lady's day. I asked the right questions, and discovered that she only lives about a mile away, so I might also have told our concierge that whilst we might be leaving early tomorrow, if she can get the girl here, then I would love to meet her in person…"
"Well, that would kind of explain the two lipstick marks on your cheeks," said Trent, before handing his friend a damp cloth.
"Yes, she was rather pleased, and then she started asking me what the Queen is like… I have gone in her eyes from a social nuisance to the famous actor that consorts with royalty; it is quite the transformation in her eyes."
"It is often the case that we change in people's point of view as we age," mused Trent, before he said, "So, you were quite quiet as we walked home… It must feel a little strange, seeing the first boy that you loved getting married to someone else…"
"François wasn't the first that I loved, but he definitely was the first that anything could have happened with long term… It feels odd, but I am happy for him…"
Trent looked at his friend, and could see that he was holding something back; he could also hear the sound of voices in the hallway. "Well, if you need to talk about how you feel, you know where I will be, and we can find a quiet place…" Trent said no more, as Jeff came walking in, and greeted Sebastian…
The hot chocolate was ready by the time that Wes emerged from his bath, and he took his mug from Trent, with a request from his papa to save him some, as he had decided to jump into the bath after his boy. Trent duly did so, and watched as Wes took a chair next to Sebastian, and talked away about how much he had enjoyed his day, then spoke all of the little phrases that Mme Girard had taught him, Sebastian approving of the accent that he also seemed to have acquired alongside the words. Then Jeff returned, and sat on the other side of his son, and chatted away, at least until the young lad began to yawn just a little too often. Then he decreed that it was bedtime, and that there was no point in arguing, as he would be joining him, as they were sharing the same room….
Wes made little protest, and almost as soon as they were gone, Rory announced that he was heading off to bed as well. Trent kissed him, then said, "I'll just wash up the mugs and the pan, and I'll be with you. Sebastian can dry for me…"
The taller of the two knew there was no point in protesting, and headed to the kitchen, where he dried as Trent washed. The job done, he looked at Trent, who was standing there with a concerned expression. Sebastian shook his head, then beckoned Trent to follow him, and soon they were sat on the stairs outside… "So, he kissed me. François kissed me on the lips today, before the wedding…"
Trent nodded, then said quietly, "Did you kiss him back?"
"No, I didn't, but there was a part of me that recalled how good his lips had felt all those years ago that almost did… I'm probably reading too much into it. It was a harmless peck on the lips from one old friend to another on the former's wedding day…"
"Yes, but given how you are feeling, it might have been much better if said old friend had made that peck on your cheek," said Trent in reply. Sebastian looked at him, and nodded, his eyes getting moist. "Now, none of that. It meant nothing, so there is no need to worry about it. François is married now, and he probably is feeling as much regret about his actions as your are feeling misplaced guilt. So, I will not breathe a word of this conversation, and there is no point in telling Dave, because that is what you were considering. It was a moment, and now, it's over…"
Sebastian lifted his head and smiled at Trent. "It is lucky for us all that you are such a good person. If you were even the slightest bit vindictive, you could have a field day, blackmailing us all; you know pretty much everyone's darkest secrets."
Trent chuckled at that, then nodded. "I guess that is true that I am aware of some things that no-one else is aware of amongst our little circle. I sometimes feel like a priest; a man that you all trust, the person who hears all of the confessions. I sometimes feel that I should dole out a penance of some sort, but I am no Hunter; I do not use guilt, however misplaced, as a lever to bend others to my will."
"If you did, you would quickly end up as President…"
"That is not on my wish list. The job comes with far too much responsibility; at the touch of a button, the President can destroy the world, and well, there is no way I could do that, whatever the circumstances. In any case, the USA would probably shy away from electing another President Nixon into office…"
"By the time that you reached the right sort of age, surely most of the electorate would have forgotten him!"
"Possibly, but it still isn't going to happen, and if anyone ever tried to push me in that direction, however well intentioned they were, then my mouth might run away…" Trent winked then, and Sebastian got the message, loud and clear. If they ever attempted to get him into the Oval Office as the boss, then so many skeletons and secrets would fall out of closets that the consequences would make Watergate look like a dumb kid shoplifting candy in a drugstore… Their conversation done, Trent and Sebastian headed back in, and then to their respective beds. They had an early start in the morning after all, along with a journey back out to the airport for their flight back home.
The next morning, Jeff was the first out of bed, and by the time that Trent woke up, he was dressed, and happy to run along to the boulangerie that he recalled was just along the street for fresh croissants, pain au chocolat and other pastries for breakfast. He was there and back in under fifteen minutes, and found that his son was also up and dressed, and was sat alongside an equally dressed Trent and Rory, trying to learn a few more French phrases from them, with the former knowing just a little more. All of that stopped the minute that he placed his bags of goodies on the table, and they all began to eat.
"Sebastian is cutting it a little fine if he is intending to join us," said Jeff eventually.
"I think he was the last of us to get to bed," said Trent quietly, "but you are right, he really should be up by now - plus he would be really upset if we didn't leave him some of these delicious things to eat."
Jeff nodded, looking across the table sternly as he did so, and Wes, who had been about to take the last pain au chocolat, pulled his hand back. The blond smiled, then said, "I will go and wake him, or if he is already up, get him to come and join us." He headed off, and the French chatter around the table resumed, but stopped abruptly when Jeff dashed back into the room. "He isn't here. His bed is made, and his bag is sitting by it, but he isn't anywhere. I've checked in the bathroom too!"
"He might be sitting quietly in the drawing room, or the study; he was missing Dave a lot last night, and he might just have needed some alone time," said Trent calmly, while his mind went into overdrive just a little. Yes, Sebastian had arranged to meet the concierge's granddaughter, but surely he would have told one of them before he headed out. He looked up to see that Jeff had gone, and could hear him opening the other doors in the apartment. Then he caught Rory's look, and his husband then leant over and whispered, "You think he has gone off somewhere, don't you? Did something happen yesterday? Was the sight of François getting married too much?"
"He isn't anywhere in the apartment," said Jeff, bursting back in, saving Trent from having to reply to his husband. "We need to leave for the airport in half an hour! Where on earth is he?"
"Now, calm down! He will just have popped down to speak to the concierge again, or something. He probably went down whilst we were all busy eating," said Trent firmly, earning himself a look from his husband for his pains. "I mean, he knows when we need to leave…"
If Trent had hoped that his words might have stemmed the growing panic in Jeff, he was wrong. His friend charged off to check the room that Sebastian had slept in the previous night for any item that had been left unpacked, any clue that might exist, and Rory had followed him. Trent sighed, and placed the remaining items from the bakery into one of the bags Jeff had brought them in, so that Sebastian could eat them as they headed to the airport, as he was certain he would arrive…
"Uncle Trent?" came a voice, and he looked at Wes, still sat calmly at the table. "If Uncle Sebastian doesn't come back in time, then do we all have to stay in Paris? It is just that we are having a special lesson at school tomorrow, and I do not want to miss it…"
"Your Uncle Sebastian will be here, I'm sure of it, but in the unlikely event that he isn't, then you, your dad, and Uncle Rory can go back together, and I will wait here for him on my own…"
"And what would the President think about that?"
Those words came in a very welcome voice, that made Trent sigh with relief. "I'm sure that he would have understood in the circumstances…"
"Where on earth were you?" exclaimed Jeff, running into the room, somehow managing to look both relieved and annoyed at the same time.
"Well, firstly I was meeting a young lady that is a fan of mine, and then, seeing as it is Sunday, I decided to go to Mass. There is a little church nearby that François and I used to go to from time to time, back in the day. I guess that I woke up with an urge to pray…"
"Wait," said Rory, who had walked back in whilst Sebastian was talking. "As far as I am aware, you are not a Roman Catholic…"
"That is true; I am a confirmed agnostic, but doesn't Beats go to the synagogue sometimes? In fact, he probably goes more often than Flint, and he isn't Jewish. I guess that it is a comfort thing…" That answer brought nods from Jeff and Rory, but Trent alone guessed that he had gone not to Mass but to use the confessional to admit what he perceived to be his minor sin….
Trent was correct naturally; Sebastian had not gone to the church to attend a service, but had instead confessed his little moment of confusion, without mentioning the gender of the other party, in the anonymous fashion to the priest on the other side of the grille. The man listened, and then replied with sympathy, pointing out that he had neither broken his own marriage vows or stopped the wedding taking place. "You were tempted, my son, but you resisted. The love that you have for your own spouse is strong, that much is obvious to me. The fact that you believe your are guilty is a misplaced thought in some ways, but in others it is most admirable…"
Sebastian knew how to say the small number of Hail Marys that he was asked to perform, and he had left the confessional, found a pew near the back and said them with conviction. He had left the church feeling better, but now he realised that he really should have left his friends a note saying he had gone out and lied as to where. There would now be talk about his trip to church, and it would be mentioned to Nick by Jeff, that much he was certain of. From there, it might easily get back to his husband, and he would wonder exactly why his husband had been to church. However, if he asked Jeff not to say anything to Nick, then he would be curious as to why, and he couldn't exactly stop little Wes speaking out at all…
He was grateful then when Trent said in a whisper in his ear, "I will call Nick and tell him that you went to church, but do not wish Dave to know, as he isn't keen on religious stuff after how his very pious mother treated him. He will believe that, and he will ensure that Jeff's talk stops with him, and goes no further…"
"I don't know," replied Sebastian equally quietly. "Maybe I should just tell Dave where I went, but not the reason why…"
"I would love to hear what your other reason would be, and how plausible it would be!" remarked Trent. "I would bet you wouldn't be able to think of a convincing one. I will call Nick, and problem solved…" Sebastian nodded, then heard Trent say, "Now relax. We've all got to hurry, as we have a flight to catch…"