Capítulo 3: Chapter 3: The Smile

Time heals all wounds, in this case, I agree with the proverb. I stood in front of the Boulevard Temple and looked at the interesting stucco decorations. Each of them depicted a scene of letterpress printing. The remarkable thing about the scenery was that it never seemed to age.

I never came to this part of my neighbourhood often, probably because I didn't have to deal with newspapers and wanted to avoid the dealers. The Boulevard Temple is the court of newspapers and gossip rags, like The Winters White. Its founder had been Johannes Gutenberg, or so they say. But this one was long dead, originally from United Germania. Before this place even existed. Someone nudged me from the side and I flinched as if I hadn't expected to be approached. "Sorry darling, but I need your help." He had the same accent as my grandparents, a german slang. I once was taught since I was a toddler.

Unfortunately, my grandparents had already passed away and I didn't get to speak it. Nevertheless, I can still read it.

I immediately switched to my mother's tongue: "Womit kann ich Ihnen helfen, Sir?" He took off his hat and held it in front of his grey jacket, he didn't belong in this scene, neither did I. His pinstripe suit belonged to him, belonged to Westchester, a company located in the south of the tri-county area, very close to the Deuces. "Oh, Gott sei Dank, a normal person," his relief shared with mine. I raised an eyebrow, starting to show some scepticism. What if this was just a new scam? I answered cautiously: "Yes, what do you need, Sir?" "Ich suche einen Gentleman, a paperboy you understand?" I rolled my eyes, so he was a dealer or a customer after all. I replied unkindly: "Ja natürlich, I wasn't born yesterday."

He scratched his head and took a picture out of his pocket. I looked at it, mesmerised. He pointed at me with his white glove: "Is that you?" I took a step back as a precaution, damn where did he get a picture of me? Why did I get involved in something like this, I was really naïve though. I swallowed: "Yes, where did you get this photo?" I didn't want to do him the favour of speaking in a language he understood better. He tried to answer in New English: "I was commissioned by, wie sagt man nochmal hier... a newspaper boy? He told me to meet mit Ihnen."

"Maybelle, please don't torment this man any more than I do," the paperboy's hand was on my shoulders. A slight shiver flitted over me. Would I now turn up in a river somewhere, dismembered? "Forgive me, Herr Maier, but our Maybe is very stubborn, isn't it?" I slapped his hand away and kicked him in the stomach: "First of all, my name is Belle, secondly, I never told you my name, and thirdly, what kind of a set-up are you running here, 'All the world's a stage' or what?"

He straightened up as if nothing had happened and turned to Herr Maier: "She would be a great help to us, don't you think?" Herr Maier nodded. "Hello, I'm not a wall, you can talk to me too!", I was as angry as I hated being treated like an object. Why was I still standing there, was I tired of living? Well, I was. "We can't talk here Belle, the place is too public, follow us," he continued and took my arm. I tore myself away from him: "You don't seriously think I'm going to follow you into a dark alley only to be fished out of the river as a corpse...no way!"

"All right," said the paperboy without a name, "If you don't want to, then we'll have to help you." The next moment I was hit on the head and my eyes went black.

When I woke up I was tied to a chair, I really didn't think that something like that would happen to me. The paperboy was standing at a window looking out at the streets, I saw his face in the glass. "I'm glad you're awake, did you sleep well Sleeping Beauty?", he said more to the glass than to me. "Are you serious?" I tugged at the shackles, "Who thundered something at my head and then dragged me off, where are we anyway Peter Pan?"

"It might surprise you Maybe, but we are not far from our neighbourhood.", his voice was very calm and serene. "How boring, were you afraid I would escape and call for help?", I said ironically and let go of the tugging. "Oh Belle, be quiet," he strode towards me and bent down to me, "We both know what we want, no more castes, equality for all, the death of the king and the prince." Well, he had a point, but I wouldn't go straight to the grave. "Oh my God, you're completely crazy, why do you want to start another revolution that will last no less than half a century," I whispered.

"But this time it will work," he smiled slightly, his euphoria indestructible. "Yes, 50 people have said that before you and where are we today?", such a children's theatre. "These do-gooders were the reason for the problems of our society. I'm so glad I chained you to this chair, otherwise, you wouldn't even stay here for a minute." I cloud not hide to roll my eyes: "Well, Einstein. I see I can't get out of here without listening to your stupid plan, so tell me." He grinned devilishly. "Even a stubborn man learns," he patted me on the head. I tried to snap at him with my mouth. He pulled his hand away: "I'd better get started before you bite my entire hand off." He had to laugh: "Don't look at me like a wet poodle."

I shrugged: "Excuse me, but if you don't get to the point soon I'm going to drag myself outside in this chair and that's it for you, so start talking, I have to get home soon my brothers and sisters need lunch!" "Don't worry, they'll be taken care of." That only made me freak out: "What have you done to them, you lunatic..." I tried to kick at him with my legs. "Nothing, they are being looked after by a neighbour, don't worry I look after my fellow human beings." Lie, I thought.

I was fed up and tried to get up with the chair, but he pushed me down: "Hey, hey, stay there." I hissed back: "I told you what would happen if you didn't tell me anything." He was suddenly so close to me, I could feel his breath on my skin, he smelled of mint, how I hated that smell: "We will put a tiara on the poor princess." I rolled my eyes: "Can you make it any clearer? Sherlock and to be honest I hate this nickname."

"We're going to get you into this year's audition." Immediately a shiver went down my spine: "Never, under no circumstances, will I take part in such ridiculous theatrics!" "I never said anything about free will," his diabolical smile spoke volumes. "You can't force me to do anything," I said brittly. "That's right, I can't, but your standard of living can. I think you are tired of being treated like an animal by everyone and so am I Maybe. You are forced to take responsibility for your family and yourself. You've longed for freedom would only follow with death unless you join us." I struggled with myself. Help, Lord God such an offer never came again, but if the ship capsized I would die.

"You're wrestling with yourself, I can see that, but you've already made your decision. Make it short, Belle, and just say yes." How did he always know everything right away? How did he know my name, my family? Was he a stalker? I had to end this tension: "OK, I'll go to this audition, but only on one condition: my family is to be kept completely out of it".

"Anything our poor princess wants."

Three days have passed since I packed. Leopold, the paperboy, told me he would let me know as soon as it started. Everything went on as usual until this morning when I was on my way to Madame Parisie's to drop off her shopping. A woman pushed past me and I dropped the basket. "Oh, I'm sorry about that, miss." I silently gathered the groceries back up, she held me by the cuff of my hand and looked me firmly in the eye: "Leo, let us tell you that today is the day." She disappeared behind a corner and I went on my way.

I opened the door of Madame's villa. Her rooms were decorated in soft lilac and creamy white. The house is an old building with many columns and flowers on and around the walls. "Madame?", I called out in the entrance hall, my voice reflected on its walls. Once I've pronounced her surname to English. Lola was not amused, so I tried to say it like a French.

I stepped out of the foyer and entered the kitchen, calling out again: "Madame?" I heard a bored, faint groan from the living room: "Yes." I placed the groceries on the sideboard and crossed the kitchen to the living room. She was sprawled on her sofa, mourning theatrically. "What happened, did your hairdresser cancel again?", I inquired about her emotional state. "No, much worse," her voice broke off. On my way to her, I kicked a few paper handkerchiefs aside. She held out a letter to me: "You can't understand this, but my Viewer number has gone down a lot and that means less money." "Shall I bring you something?", you could hear my perplexity.

I had dealt with many divas, but Madame was different. She might seem very superficial, but she was basically a good person. "No, I just need viewers again and I can only get them through great content, but I don't have that anymore," she was close to tears. I fetched for another handkerchief box on the little table near the sofa. She gladly took one out of it. ''I'm pretty sorry," I was. Madame Parisie had always given me more money and was usually very kind to me.

It just came over me, maybe I felt guilty that I had lumped all the threesomes together. I knew later I would regret it, but in this case, I wanted to help her: "I'm signing up for the audition." I regretted it the moment Madame stood up and reached for her smartphone: "I have another job." She hung up and hugged me: "Thank you for everything." It was honest and sincere. I hoped I had not made a mistake.

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