Pickpocket Read online

  I finally head back to Henri’s place. As usual, snoring is coming from Henri’s bedroom. I need to get to sleep too. But images of Selina’s bruises and cigarette burns keep me tossing and turning.

  Then I remember the necklace I bought for my mom. It felt like the perfect gift for her. But maybe I should have given those fifteen euros to Selina instead. To try to keep her safe from Le Patron on those days when she hasn’t made her full quota.

  For the next few days, I go to all the places where I think pickpockets might hang out. The promenade. The shopping center. The train station. The garden at the edge of town. I even go back to the cemetery. Each time, I take some money to slip to Selina or let her steal from my pocket. But I don’t see her anywhere.

  I can’t give up though. And if I’m going to help her, I need to earn more money. So I start working extra hours. I don’t even check with Henri first. I show up at the socca shop early. I also lock up after I’ve washed all the trays from the market.

  Finally the end of the week rolls around. It’s time to talk to Henri.

  “Henri, I need to ask you something,” I say. “It was great of you to let me have this summer job. I hope this isn’t a problem. But I’ve been working some extra hours. So I wonder if you might give me—”

  “A raise?” Henri finishes the sentence.

  “Oui.” I nod, heat spreading across my cheeks. “I need to earn a bit more.”

  Henri knows I need to pay back my parents for the house party. But I don’t want to tell him I’m also setting aside money to help a girl. A girl I hardly know. A pickpocket. Someone I might never see again. So I don’t go into details. Turns out, Henri doesn’t need them.

  He shrugs and then says, “You work more, you earn more. C’est tout.” That’s it.

  Marcel is hovering nearby. I’m sure he hears us talking. When Henri steps away, Marcel leans over. “Are you trying to make me look bad, Jean-Luc?”

  He looks so serious, I start to laugh.

  “Relax, Marcel,” I say. “One day you might even ask Yasmine out. Then I’ll need some extra money to help you celebrate.”

  Marcel smiles widely. “One day I will do it,” he says. “Maybe sooner than you think.”

  Somehow I doubt that. Then again, maybe Marcel will surprise me.

  Chapter Nine

  The next day I’m loading the first batch of socca into the trailer when I notice Marcel’s long face.

  “What’s up?” I ask.

  “I finally did it,” he says.

  “You asked Yasmine out? Really?”

  “Well, I tried to,” Marcel says. “I went to the shop where she works. Yasmine wasn’t there. So I asked her manager about her.” He heaves a sigh. “She told me Yasmine left town. She moved to Lyon…with her new boyfriend.”

  “Oh no,” I say. “That sucks, Marcel. But hey, you tried, right?”

  “I guess,” Marcel says. Then he fires up the Vespa and heads to the market.

  While I mix the next batch of socca, I think back on all the places where I’ve looked for Selina. What if Le Patron has taken her out of the city? Or done something else to her?

  Even with the heat from the wood oven, I shiver. I rack my brain about where else to look. Then I get an idea.

  Le Petit Monstre. The bar that Selina had a receipt from.

  It could be tricky for me to go there. Back home, I’m still too young to get into the bars. Someone always checks ID at the door. But everything seems more relaxed here in France. Still, I’m not brave enough to go to Le Petit Monstre by myself.

  I wait until Marcel arrives back at the shop. When I ask him to go there with me, his eyes light up.

  “There’s a certain girl you want to meet there?” he asks.

  I nod. “She sometimes hangs out there.”

  “This is good,” Marcel says. “I struck out with Yasmine. But maybe this summer one of us will have a girlfriend after all.”

  Marcel’s words stop me cold. A girlfriend? The situation with Selina is way more complicated than that. I need to help Selina for her own sake. And, in a weird way, for Lena’s sake too. They both deserved a shot at having a decent life. And since my kid sister didn’t get that, Selina needs it for sure. This feels like something I can get right for a change, especially after all the crap I pulled after Lena died.

  Marcel is still looking at me. I think he’s waiting for more details. But I don’t know what Le Patron would do to Selina if he found out someone was trying to help her. I can’t let this get out. The stakes are too high. And Marcel isn’t the most reliable guy on the planet. So I keep it simple.

  “Merci,” I say.

  “Tonight we will go to Le Petit Monstre,” he says. “We will find your girl there.”

  I sure hope so, Marcel.

  For the rest of the day, thoughts of going to the bar push everything else out of my head.

  “Pay attention, Jean-Luc,” Henri says with a frown. “You already added salt.”

  He’s right. Plus, I keep forgetting how much flour I’ve put into the mixing bowl.

  When Marcel returns with the empty trays, Henri turns to him.

  “Take Jean-Luc to the market with you. His mind—oh là là.” Henri shakes his head. “It is not on his work today.”

  I place the hot trays of socca into the drum. Henri goes back into the shop. A smile is playing across Marcel’s face.

  “That girl you like,” Marcel says. “She must be très jolie. Very beautiful, yes?”

  I grit my teeth.

  “And I will be your—what is it called?” Marcel taps his forehead. Then he smiles. “I will be your wingman. I will tell all her friends what a great guy you are. And I will make sure you have time to talk to her by yourself.”

  Oh my god! Marcel is so off base!

  Then again, I could use some time alone to talk to Selina. So I agree with his plan. Then I climb on behind him, and we take off to the market.

  For the rest of the day, Henri hardly lets me back into the shop.

  “The socca deserves better care,” he says.

  “D’accord, Henri,” I say. “I’ll pay better attention tomorrow.”

  “Non,” Henri says. “You will not. Because tonight you are going to a bar with Marcel. I hear you boys talking. And tomorrow is a workday.”

  “I won’t be late,” I say.

  Then again, the bars are open until well after midnight. What if Selina doesn’t show up for hours?

  “Actually, I might be a little late,” I say.

  “I know what happens when young men are out late having drinks at bars.” Henri sighs. “Tomorrow morning you will be late for work. Just like Marcel. And you will make a mess of the socca. Too much salt. Not enough salt.” He shakes his head.

  I wish I could tell him what I’m doing. But I can’t risk putting Selina in any more danger.

  Over dinner, Henri is quieter than usual. My stomach is in knots. I can hardly eat the delicious chicken and vegetables in wine sauce that Henri has prepared. I am really starting to appreciate the food here. While he sops up the last of his supper with chunks of bread, I step over to the sink and start washing the dishes.

  When I’m done, I take a quick shower. Then I grab some cash from my room and duck out the door.

  “Au revoir, Henri!” I call. He just grunts.

  Marcel is waiting for me on the promenade. Fabio and Lola are with him.

  I turn to Marcel. “It’s after seven thirty,” I say. “We’d better get going.”

  “But the bar is just opening,” Marcel says.

  “It’s way too early to go there.” Fabio frowns at me.

  “Let’s hang out at the beach first,” Lola says.

  Seriously? Can we just get going?

  I want to yell the words at them. But then I remind myself that these people know the bar scene better than I do. So when they head to the beach, I follow them.

  Lola hands each of us small wine bottles from her bag. I take just a small drink of mine.
I need a clear head tonight—if that’s even possible. My mind is jumping all over the place. What if I’ve already missed Selina? Or what if she’s not there?

  I nudge Marcel.

  “Dude!” he says, as some wine sloshes down his shirt. “What was that about?”

  “Let’s go,” I say.

  Marcel turns to Fabio and Lola. “You’ll have to excuse Jean-Luc. He’s all hot to go see this girl tonight. His mystery woman that he won’t talk about.”

  “Really?” Lola sips her wine. “How did you meet her, Jean-Luc?”

  I try to imagine how they’d react if I told them the truth.

  I met her while she was picking my pocket. She’s got a quick set of hands. That’s such a turn-on!

  “I’ll tell you more after tonight,” I say. “First I need to get my wingman moving.”

  Fabio gives Marcel a shove as he stands up.

  “Bonne chance, Jean-Luc!” Lola says. Good luck!

  We start walking. Soon the purple sign for Le Petit Monstre flashes ahead of us. I can see now that I didn’t need to worry about not having ID. Because Selina is moving through the crowd outside the bar.

  I know exactly what she’s doing.

  Chapter Ten

  I want to run over and talk to Selina right away. But I can’t let Marcel know who she is.

  “Marcel,” I say, “I need you to go inside for me.”

  “Really?” he says. “I can’t be your wingman at a distance.”

  “But I need you to find out if they’re checking ID,” I say. “And to look for Selina for me.”

  “Ahh,” Marcel says. “Your petite amie is named Selina.”

  Shit! I didn’t mean to say her name! But right now I need Marcel out of here. Selina might take off!

  “Oui.” I try to keep my voice steady. “Her name is Selina. She has red, curly hair and blue eyes. She’s almost as tall as I am. And she usually wears bright clothing.”

  I’ve just described the exact opposite of the petite, dark-haired Selina.

  “Got it!” Marcel claps me on the shoulder. He slips into the crowd at the door.

  I make my way over to Selina. I try to copy the easy smiles of the people around me.

  “Selina.” I say her name as quietly as I can. She turns toward me. My breath comes in a sharp gasp.

  Selina looks more bruised and broken than she did just a week ago when I last saw her. More burns are visible down her arm. As the light from the sign pulses on and off, the dark hollows under her eyes almost glow. Her dress is hanging off her too. She’s thinner than she used to be.

  A moment later she seems to recognize me.

  “I can’t talk to you,” she mutters. “I told you already. I’m working.”

  “I know,” I say. “But—”

  She interrupts me. “Le Patron has been extra hard on me lately. I made him angry.”

  I shake my head. “There’s nothing you’ve done to deserve that.” I motion toward her arms. Up close, I can also see a bruise forming on her forehead.

  “I lost a receipt from here,” she says. “Le Patron had sent me into the bar to get someone’s phone number for him. So I chatted the guy up. Said I’d hook up with him later at his place. He wrote his number on the back of the receipt. But then I lost it before I could give it to Le Patron so…” Her voice trails off.

  My knees shake beneath me.

  “Wait!” I say. “You dropped a receipt that day at the train station. The day you called for the police. It fell out of your purse when you were leaving.”

  Selina leans in. “Was the receipt from this place?”

  “Yes,” I say. “I think I still have it. Meet me at the market tomorrow. I’ll give it to you.”

  “That might help,” Selina says. The exhaustion in her voice brings tears to my eyes. I blink hard.

  She peers around at the crowd. “He can’t see us talking,” she says. “I can’t risk angering him again.”

  “Pick my pocket,” I say.

  I turn. The pocket where I stashed the money is closest to her. I pretend I’m talking to two guys standing beside us.

  Selina hesitates.

  “Just do it,” I mutter. “Hurry up!”

  Selina gives me a bump. I can tell she has taken the money. From the corner of my eye, I see her slipping away.

  I do a slow exhale. Then I start walking in the opposite direction from Selina.

  “Jean-Luc!” Marcel calls out.

  I turn around.

  “I didn’t see her,” he says. “I asked all through the bar.”

  “It’s okay,” I say. “I saw Selina’s best friend after you went inside.” I tell him the story I prepared earlier. “She said Selina and her old boyfriend got back together. They’re trying to work things out.”

  I hate lying to him. But I don’t have any choice.

  “Ah, women.” Marcel slings an arm across my shoulder as we start walking. “We are not doing well with them these days. But maybe our luck will turn soon, hein?” he says.

  “I hope so,” I say. “The sooner, the better.”

  I wasn’t out that late after all, but I didn’t sleep well. Images of Selina wasting away kept streaming through my head. Images of my little sister wasting away in the hospital came next.

  So the morning is a struggle. The only thing that gets me out of bed is my promise to Selina to get her the receipt. Just like yesterday, I can’t keep anything straight at the socca shop.

  “Jean-Luc,” Henri says, “what is going on in your head? Again you forgot the salt. At this rate, I will have to train Marcel to make the socca. And that would be un désastre!”

  It would definitely be a disaster if Marcel did the cooking. But today I can’t seem to get my shit together.

  “What to do with you…” Henri gives a long sigh. “And I worry about the Exposition coming up.”

  The Exposition. I’ve been so focused on helping Selina that I’ve hardly thought about Henri’s big catering job. But Henri has been reviewing the number of guests. Planning the quantity of ingredients he needs. Figuring out when to start making the socca. Organizing how to get it there.

  “That scooter,” Henri says. “I hope I can count on it. Marcel can help somewhat. That boy has gasoline running through his veins. Still, there are breakdowns. Always breakdowns.”

  Just then, Marcel arrives with the empty trays. We load the fresh socca. Henri sends me back to the market with Marcel. I touch my pocket to be sure—even though I know I stashed the receipt and some extra cash there before I left the apartment this morning.

  Marcel turns back to me. “I’m sorry things did not work out for you and Selina.”

  I need to just agree with him.

  “Merci,” I say. “I thought she was into me.”

  “I know what you mean,” he says.

  I kind of doubt it, Marcel. But whatever.

  “Maybe we need to take a break from dating and girlfriends this summer,” I say.

  Marcel bursts out laughing. “You are joking, right?”

  The whole time we’re talking, I keep an eye out around me. I finally see Selina wandering through the market. Or pretending she’s just wandering through the market.

  While Marcel arranges the socca for Clara, I nudge him. “I’m going for a walk,” I say. “I need to clear my head.”

  Marcel gives me a sympathetic smile. “I will cover for you,” he says.

  I make my way along the tables. The market is filled with tourists and locals doing their morning shop. I try to blend into the crowd as I approach Selina. I also try not to look directly at her. But I can’t help it. I need to see how she’s doing. If she has any fresh burns or bruises.

  “Don’t look at me,” Selina mutters. “Le Patron has spies around town. Nobody can see us talking to each other.”

  “Back pocket,” I say. I keep my eyes on the cut flowers in front of me as I speak.

  “Merci.”

  I keep my face turned away from her. “Meet me at th
e cemetery on Friday,” I say. “Seven o’clock.”

  I can’t tell if she agrees or not. But I’ll go there anyway. That’ll be my chance to slip her some cash after I get paid—and see if she’s still okay then.

  When I’m sure she’s left, I walk to the end of the market. Past the produce area and over to the flower vendors. For some reason, my thoughts turn to all the crappy things I’ve done since Lena died. To how hard I’ve been on my parents while they are dealing with their own sadness. And to how helping Selina feels like the right thing to do.

  I’m by the gates that lead out onto the promenade when I realize something. Even though I’m giving Selina all the cash I can, it won’t be enough. I’ll go back to Canada. Le Patron will keep forcing Selina to rob people. And one day his anger will get the better of him. Then Selina will just disappear.

  That thought haunts me. Giving her money is the only thing I can think of doing to help her right now. Maybe it will buy her some time.

  But in the long run, it might not make any difference at all.

  Chapter Eleven

  For the next few weeks, I meet Selina whenever I can. I carry extra cash for her in my pocket. I try to make sure we’re in a thick crowd of people. I keep changing our meeting spots, too, in case Le Patron or one of his spies is watching.

  Today we’re meeting by the flower vendors at the market. I haven’t seen her yet. So while Marcel is tinkering with the Vespa, I wander over to buy a pastry.

  I’m biting into it when I get an idea. Why didn’t I think of this earlier? The answer seems so obvious.

  Just then Selina bumps into me. Without looking at her, I say, “You know, we could call the police. They could deal with Le Patron.”

  Selina gasps. “Don’t ever say that!” she says.

  I turn to face her.

  “Le Patron said if I ever call the police, I am dead within the day.” Her eyes are wild with fear. “I will never get to my auntie’s house in Toulouse.”