The first thing I did when I got to my apartment building was to grab some of the discarded newspapers by the concierge’s lounge. Although most mail-boxes did have a ‘no free press’ sign on them, it did not stop the postmen from delivering said ‘free press’, and only encouraged my neighbours to dump it at their earliest convenience, which in this case was the old-fashioned small wooden table behind the staircase on the ground floor.

Getting into my apartment had not gotten any easier, between the fidgety lock and my frozen hands. But when I did get in, I quickly took my wet sneakers off and stuffed them with the newspaper I had picked up earlier before shoving them under a radiator. At least my waterproof jacket had done its job of keeping me dry properly, probably because it was made out of some parka look-alike monster hide.

After locking up my door, showering and changing into comfy, dry and warm clothes, I went to my room to see how much charge my phone had gotten since I’d plugged it in right after coming in.

Its black screen displayed a proud green ‘31’, which showed no desire to go up to ‘32’.

“You’re going to the trash, my friend.” I said as I turned it on.

A short eternity later, I raised my eyebrows in surprise. In addition to two messages from Etienne, and the usual pointless social media notifications, I had three missed calls from a certain ‘Chloe’ and one text message from an ‘Emmanuelle’.

I could not recall anyone by those names, in this world at least. I went to school with an Emmanuelle, and I’ve met over a dozen Chloe’s both at university and at work. However, having kept mostly to myself since coming to this world, I immediately knew it was Laura they had attempted to contact.

Emmanuelle’s message read:

Coucou, I know it’s been a while, but Clo-Clo has been trying to call you. I hope you’re doing alright. She has a fun opportunity for you. Call her back, ok? Bisous.

I frowned and twisted my mouth in a partially confused and partially cringing expression. Then, I did what I considered to be the only reasonable thing to do. But, as I tried activating my Memoire skill, nothing happened.

“Right.” I muttered, remembering that today had been a very eventful day.

I must have reached a new level of exhaustion, to forget things like that. Hence, I decided that this matter was best left for tomorrow, and headed to bed.

I took a break in my usual morning routine to re-live some of Laura’s old memories.

Memoire

A tall woman in her early twenties was sitting at a desk. She had dark-olive skin and wavy black hair with strands of red, partially hidden under a scarf. She was wearing a silk chemise and a short black skirt which only further accentuated her long, elegant legs.

She was reading a book. A manual to be precise. But from where I stood, I could not make out what was written on the back cover. The fact that my head barely reached the table did not help the matter, as I couldn’t even make out what was written on the spine of the pile of books laid on the table.

“Did you finish playing with your dolls?” The woman asked.

She had a thick southwestern accent, no doubt from Bordeaux or thereabouts.

“I want to play with you.” I replied as I tried to pull myself, or at least my head, over the table.

“We can play in half an hour.” Emmanuelle dryly replied, not taking her eyes off whatever it was she was reading.

“Am I supposed to babysit that?” A short, round girl, no older than 15, exclaimed, pointing in my direction.

She had short blond hair purposefully cut in an uneven way. If not for how immaculate the sports clothes she was wearing were, she would have easily pulled off that ‘wild and free’ girl look.

I ignored her, and walked straight past her, picking up one of the many spare golf clubs from the little cart her butler was resting on.

“Hey.” She called out to me.

“I’m leaving at 6.” I replied, as I picked up a few golf balls, and headed away from Chloe, towards the golf course.

“It would be advisable the two of you play together.” Her butler leaned over to her.

It wasn’t long before she followed me.

“So what are your powers then?” She asked, joining me amongst the hills of well-kept grass. “Mine is this.” She added.

Suddenly, she took a swing at the golf ball, and as it flew high up in the air, space seemed to distort around it, and almost fracture, like an invisible mirror. The ball changed course midair, and slowly, almost purposefully slow, flew over to the hole, before falling straight into it.

“What were the odds of that happening?” The girl asked with a proud tone. “One in sixty-three thousand billion four hundred fifty-six billion seven hundred thirteen thousand million two hundred fifty-four million seven hundred ninety-five thousand three hundred one, that’s how many.” She grinned. “Now, what’s your thing?”

In response, I simply hit the ball and watched it roll downhill. It rolled a bit up an opposing hill, before rolling back down and coming to a stop. Without a word, I ran after it, to hit it again. The disgusted expression on Chloe’s face did not go unnoticed.

MP - 10

Right. They were my sisters. It made sense that they’d try to call me, although it did not make sense that they hadn’t contacted me once since I came to this world. But then again, neither had I, as I minded my own business and lived off our father’s money.

So, as I walked to work, I dialled back Chloe’s number.

“You have reached the personal number of mademoiselle Chloe Julia Galadrielle de Challant de la Sablonnière. Who do I have the pleasure of talking to?” A voice that more likely than not belonged to Chloe’s butler spoke.

“Laura, her siter. Should I give my full name as well?” I replied.

I was somewhat afraid they’d hang up, despite calling me first, so I inadvertently resorted to my usual coping mechanism: sarcasm and battiness.

“Laura! It’s been too long!” A high-pitched voice screeched into my ear. Chloe then cleared her throat, before continuing. “I hope you’ve been well. Listen, I have this opportunity for you. You like art, right? Paintings, painters, art expositions and all that?”

I tried to interrupt, but she did not leave me a chance.

“So you must know Gerard Gros-Tas. What was that? Yes, Gros-Tas, that’s what I said.”

It seemed she was having a conversation with someone on the side, so I shook my head with a silent sigh, and let her carry on.

“Allo? Laura?”

“Yes, sure. Gerard Grostas.” I replied once I realised that was what she was waiting for.

“Great!” She excitedly exclaimed. “He is very well known. He’s going to that one fancy art expo in Paris, you know, the one?”

“Yeah, that one.” I replied after a brief silence, as pieces slowly started coming together in my head over why she was calling me.

“Perfect. Well he’s going there, and he has a plus one. And since you love art so much, I thought you were just the person to go with him. The dress code is anything but green, cocktail on top, evening at the bottom. Hide your legs basically, I’ll ask Martin to forward you a link-”

“Wait.” I finally managed to cut her short. I could almost hear her roll her eyes on the other end of the line.

“Yes?” She spoke before I had had the time to continue.

“Just what exactly am I supposed to do at this art expo?”

“Well, whatever it is you artsy types do, I suppose? Look at paintings, eat snacks,… Truly, the sky is your limit. Oh, and you’ll have to bodyguard Gros Tas. Am I saying his name wrong again? Whatever.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, not really of course. Just walk around and pretend to do things. Like check that no one with a knife runs at him, you know? There will be actual security there, I have money for that. You’ll get to enjoy your fancy art get-together, in good company, and that idiot will get off my back.”

“Mhuum.” I replied.

It seemed Chloe had finally revealed her true reasons or at least part of them.

“Oh don’t be like that Lou. You’ll have fun! My people will be there to make sure nothing happens, and all you’ll have to do is occasionally pretend to listen when he talks to you.”

“Why me?” I asked. “I mean, I’ll go. If I have nothing else that day. But surely you could have thought of someone else. You and I aren’t exactly close.”

Chloe scoffed.

“Well, you see Lou, darling, that fuck-head insists he wants to be accompanied by a ‘de la Sablonnière’. He’s good friends with daddy and all, and with my brothers being busy and all that … you understand, right?”

I let out a sigh. An audible one this time.

“Fine. Send me the details, and I’ll give you a reply then.”

“Great! You’re such a good little sister-”

“I have to catch my bus.” I hung up the call, just barely beating my phone and its dying battery to it.

This event did sound like a fun change from my routine, but I didn’t like the way my ‘sister’ went about it. But perhaps it was just what I needed, to get my mind off my rocky relationship with Etienne and other problems. Plus, I’d worked in hospitality before. Pretending to listen to people was something I excelled at.