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“Salut!”
The others raised their voices and glasses, then drank.
“We still have to win,” I said into the quiet.
Robert set down his glass with a thunk and fixed me with a pointed stare.
I shrugged, and sat back in my seat, affecting a casual pose. “I’m just saying I think it’s bad luck to toast to something that hasn’t happened yet. We need to focus on us; play our best and…see what happens.”
“See what happens,” Olivier said, and chuckled. “Such inspirational words from our fearless leader.”
The table laughed and the mood remained cheerful but for Robert who gave me a final, dark look before joining the talk around the table.
I stared into the gold of my Pilsner, turning the glass around and around. The talk grew louder, the club began to fill up, and my group became noticeably more drunk.
Finally, Lucie had to use the restroom and the entire booth shuffled out to let her. When they shuffled back in, Janey ended up at the end, next to me.
On purpose?
It didn’t matter. Having her closer was like basking in the sun.
“Having fun?” I asked.
“You owe me half an interview,” Janey shouted over Led Zeppelin and the loud talk and laughter around us.
I laughed. “You’re right. Come on. Let’s go somewhere else.”
Janey stiffened. “No, thanks.”
My smile faltered. “Didn’t you just say—?”
She leaned over the table. I could smell the wildflower scent of her perfume.
“I’m not getting up so everyone can watch me leave here with you.”
I felt myself stiffen. “Of course not.” I took a long pull from my beer, draining the glass, then set it down. “Meet me at the Stade Jean-Marc tomorrow afternoon, one o’clock.”
She frowned. “You want to do the interview on the soccer field?”
“The football pitch,” I corrected. “You clearly need the lesson. One o’clock.”
Janey nodded. “For the story.”
“What else would it be for?”
Our gazes caught and held, and then she looked away, letting the long locks of her hair shield her blush.
“Leaving so soon?” Olivier said, watching me rise to my feet. He heaved a dramatic sigh. “So many women, so little time.”
“Yes, I have to run,” I said. I drained my beer and set it down. “Your mother is a very impatient woman, Caton.”
Olivier bolted to his feet. Robert, sitting beside him, rose too, and put a hand on his chest. “Back off.” He looked to me. “Adrien, a word?”
He walked with me to the front of the club.
At the front, he stopped and jerked his head back to our table. “What’s the story with her? The American.”
“The story is, she’s doing a story,” I said. “What’s the big deal?”
