Karma (3 page)

"I
saw your face when the large cowboy dropped the $100 note,
ma belle,"
he confided quietly, his expression intense. "I saw the struggle between
good and evil,
oui.
I was most privileged to view it. It was like
bearing witness to the fall of man, and yet there was no fall,
non
. You
are an honest woman,
n'est-ce pas
? Despite your apparent need, you chose
not to transgress."

"Oh,
I see," Marcy murmured, a flush of heat burning her face.

It
was embarrassing to know that this intriguing Frenchman had watched such a personal
moment, yet it explained his strange interest in her.

Shaking
her head, Marcy waved her hands deprecatingly. "Only a couple of years ago
I wouldn't have even been tempted," she said. "Isn't it strange how
life can change you? But I admit that I was grateful to have held firm. It was
only a hundred dollars, but it represented so much more. I would have felt
terrible if I had taken it."

"
Oui,
oui
, just so," he said with conviction, leaning closer to her. "I
comprehend how you feel very well, for I too, once lived day-to-day."

Obviously
wealthy, Mr. Chevalier's comment seemed highly improbable. Marcy simply stared
at him.

"I
will speak frankly,
ma belle,
" he went on. "You do not enjoy
the casino, I see this. It is not the job for you. In my profession I deal in
other people's confidences. Thus your personal history must first be closely
examined. I am inspired. It is a whim, an impulse, yet I like you. If you pass
the security screening, I vow that I shall give you a position in my household
that would be most suitable."

Mr.
Chevalier went on to explain that he was a counselor, and had a large residence
nearby. Two of his household staff were away, one to a wedding of his sister in
France, the other on vacation. Marcy could replace them. He often had parties
where she would serve food and drinks. It was a big home with people coming and
going all the time. There was much to do. She could work school hours, and he would
pay her generously.

For
an instant her heart jumped with an adrenaline punch of pure possibility. It
sounded like a dream. Leave the casino, work school hours
and
make good
money? But who was this man? Could she forsake the financial security of a
large dependable organization like the Bellagio and take a risk with a complete
stranger?

An
urbane gentleman and an elegant woman came up to Mr. Chevalier then. The new
arrival apologized for being late and the man offered his hand. Mr. Chevalier
took it. The couple looked to be perhaps in their mid forties. Their expensive
clothes and New England accents shouted wealth and privilege - born and raised
with money. Lots and lots of it.

Apparently
Mr. Chevalier had been waiting for these people to meet him here, at her little
bar. Now that they were here he was leaving.

Marcy
was sorry to see him go. There was just something about that guy. She was drawn
to him. Not sexually – she doubted that she would ever be drawn to anyone sexually
again, not after her train wreck of a marriage.

Marcy
believed in vibes because she often felt vibes coming off others in waves. Some
people were edgy, some disturbing, or creepy, some radiated anger. But the
Frenchman only emitted playful energy, combined with mellow comfort and
respectful consideration. He seemed trustworthy; she wanted to believe him.

"You
are here this evening?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Until
midnight?"

She
nodded.

"
Bon,
"
he said with that charming boyish grin of his. "I believe that we
understand each other tolerably well. Someone will come to you tonight with an
employment contract that you may examine."

He
pulled out a card and handed it to her. It was on embossed white paper and said
simply,
André Chevalier
in cursive letters with a phone number on it.
"Inform yourself and make your choice,
ma belle.
Call me at 9am
tomorrow if you wish to discuss the position."

Marcy
smiled, nodded and said, "Thank you," as Mr. Chevalier left. Those were
all the expected things to say and do. But she had never been a risk taker.

As
she put the card in her pocket, Marcy knew that despite the possibilities, she would
never call him.

~~~

André
Chevalier asked his prospective customers to please follow him as he threaded
his way through the labyrinth of the casino. A friend of the manager of the
Bellagio, André arranged an interview room in the hotel for their first meeting.

Weaving
in and out, André frowned with momentary disorientation as he tried to locate
the exit. The problem was that there was no logical arrangement to the casino
floor plan, and the ceilings were low so that it was difficult to find a
landmark. An ocean of tall slot machines created intentional barriers.

Once
a gambler walked inside, especially after a few drinks, it was almost
impossible for them to find their way out again.

André
had initially been displeased when his new clients didn't arrive on time. To be
late without a good reason was impolite. Not only that, but they asked to meet
him here in the casino. Other than live shows and entertainment, André didn’t
enjoy a casino environment. He virtually never entered the maze of slots and
gaming tables.

Now
he was thankful for their delay, and extremely happy that he'd come. It had
been most auspicious to arrive in time to watch the woman. André remembered her
every expression, and could imagine her thoughts as she struggled with herself.

André
found the gaming room exit and passed through it, into the marble flooring of
the expansive lobby. The resort, stunning in its scope, had been recently
remodeled. The water display began outside the casino; he could hear the music
signifying the start. After nightfall the attraction went off every fifteen
minutes.

His
clients were from out of town, and may not have seen the show. André murmured a
query to them, and they agreed that they would like to stop and watch. The
three of them trailed outside, walking some distance to find the best view.

The
Fountains of Bellagio were designed to "romance your senses." Intertwined
with inspirational music and light, water gushed upwards, dancing to the music
and jetting to amazing heights. It was mesmerizing. Stirred by the sights and
sounds, André watched… and thought of Marcy.

The
woman's fight with her conscience had been
magnifique.
Marcy interested
him. He liked her, and he fully intended to reward her integrity. That was, if
she chose to become his employee. If she called him tomorrow.

André
smiled, certain that she would call. He knew exactly how to make that choice
impossible for her to resist. He believed in karma and to some degree in fate. Sometimes
things really did happen for a reason.

Marcy
deserved good to come to her. André felt that it was no coincidence that he had
observed her triumph over evil. Who was to say that he was not simply an
instrument of the
bon Dieu?
A tool sent to help her during a difficult
time?

She
did not take the $100 bill. It was as if she had been tested by
Le Diable
himself.

André's
admiration was profound.

When
the water jets shot on to full - it sounded almost like small cannons going off.
The woman and man beside him both gasped abruptly as the fountains hit new and
surprising heights. Every time the tempo changed, rapid-fire concussions from
the jets could be heard, differing in timing and volume. Like rhythmic drum
beats, these sounds enhanced the musical composition.

The
music lowered, becoming mystical. Founts of spray lessened, beginning a
colorful choreographed ballet. The throb and dance of the water became slow and
stable as a resting heart beat.

Such
sights and sounds were restful, and André's mind went to his security officer,
Mike Thompson. Mike was a steady, sensible man, well versed in protective
measures. André employed him five years ago for an upgrade to his systems. Now
he was the consultant that oversaw all of André's security needs.

Would
his friend, Mike Thompson, be attracted to Marcy? For the man had been celibate
and alone for far too long. Mike was vigorous and in his prime. His lack of
companionship was a sin in André's eyes. Sexual abstinence was not healthy for
the body. A lack of closeness and connection to another was not healthy for the
soul.

André
shifted restlessly with the memory. Mike and his wife came to him six years previously
with difficulties in the marriage bed. Theirs was been a simple case, easily
resolved. They were most happy together until she became ill and passed.

So
sad. Mike always wished for children, too. Marcy, with one child already, was quite
possibly just the very woman for his friend.

André
blinked with a sudden inner vision, imagining the reaction of each to the
other. He recalled the woman's thick, brunette shoulder length hair, her
voluptuous figure and the polite way in which she firmly held him at arm's
length.

That
had been a novel experience for André. Few women did that.

In
general, women loved him. This was no surprise as André loved all women: fat,
thin, tall, short, young, old, good-looking or considered unattractive – to André
every woman was beautiful, nurturing, fascinating and unique.

Marcy's
features were angular, her nose too straight and long. While not a beauty in
the traditional sense, André had found her captivating. She wore a subtle
fragrance that tantalized without masking her own unique scent. André
appreciated this restraint. Why did so many American women use such
overpowering perfumes?

The
woman had been stressed, yet she was exceptionally well-mannered. There was
strength of character, stubborn will, and determination in her eyes. He
recalled how her face lit with joy as she laughed. And when she smiled a
vibrant personality showed. In those moments Marcy was quite striking.

Mike
Thompson would most certainly like her.

Perhaps
in addition to providing employment, he was also to play the matchmaker? It was
a task he was unfamiliar with, and yet André considered that he could acquit
himself well. He would contrive to succeed - if such was meant to be.

The
fountains rose once more with a rainbow of multicolored lighting. There was a
choral theme now, and it was building. All the fountains jetted, pounding with
life like an athletes' heartbeat during the last moments of a race. The water
followed the music, reaching, surging upwards, and swelling into a shattering
finale.

Inspired,
André's heart lifted, awed by the sight and sounds before him.
C'est fantastique
et vraiment beau.

In
that stirring moment a startling idea struck him. Did the chance meeting with
Marcy have greater ramifications? Now
that
was something to think about.

Perhaps
André had come to this place not to help
her
, but to help
him?

Mike
Thompson would be responsible for screening Marcy for her position in his
household. This would take time, time in which Mike would need to personally
get to know the woman.

As
the performance reached its crescendo, André's heart swelled with joy and his
lips curled with satisfaction. Mike and Marcy. Marcy and Mike. Even the sound
of their names together had a pleasant alliterative ring.

And
so, already this goes very well I think,
he
mused.

Marcy
sat staring at the phone.

It
was 8:55am the next day. The day after meeting Mr. Chevalier. The day after he
sent his majordomo to see her. The day after she decided to accept his job.

Marcy
remembered Gustave visiting her in her bar. He introduced himself with courtly
propriety and gave her an envelope. It was the contract of employment that Mr.
Chevalier spoke of.

Mr.
Chevalier's majordomo looked closer to seventy than sixty. Dressed in a brown
suit with an olive sweater, he wore a dark red scarf around his neck. The scarf
and sweater Marcy could understand. It was early
November,
where the daytime temperatures could be in the seventies and nights could cool
to fifty degrees. As an older man, he would more easily be disturbed by the cold.

With
his light, almost white-grey hair, Gustave projected quiet dignity. The man could
have been a philosopher, an artist or a poet. Serenely regarding her, his blue-grey
eyes were calm and still as a windless pool of deep water. Gustave appeared as
if he had seen all manner of things in the world, and it hadn’t changed him. If
Marcy could use only one adjective to sum him up with, it would have been 'kind'
or perhaps 'gentle.'

She
smiled. A close second would be loyal, for Gustave clearly cared for his
employer.

Gustave
spoke of André Chevalier, assuring her that he was "most
trustworthy." He said that André never hired anyone to join the household.
His staff, all born in France, had been with him for years. Gustave wanted to
come and view for himself what manner of woman would make André offer her such
a position. The older gentleman had worked for André for more than twenty years
and thought of André as a son.

With
a shrewd look, Gustave's brows knitted, no doubt sensing her misgivings. "He
wants you to work for him, but do not fear," he said. "You can trust
him,
ma chèrie
, I
swear it."

There
were two letters in the envelope. One was a note from the Manager of the
Bellagio, telling her that he understood that she had been offered employment
with Mr. Chevalier. It confirmed in writing that should she choose to take up
the offer that her position at the Bellagio would be kept open for three
months. How in the world had Mr. Chevalier arranged that? It minimized any risk
for her to take the job.

The
contract of service was more extensive. She filled out pages of personal
details and history. The work was only during school hours, and occasional late
evenings, full medical for herself and her daughter and an excellent wage. It was
too good to be true. Marcy could hardly believe it, but she wanted to. Why couldn't
it be her turn for a lucky break?

Marcy
hardly slept all night, she was so keyed up. She wanted to chat to her
roommate, Amber, but Amber needed to get up for an early shift at the casino. Until
recently there were three single mothers and their kids sharing the condo.
Marcy and Amber had kicked out their housemate for drug use and sleazy
boyfriends.

One
of their neighbors had texted her a photo of a tattooed guy with dreads using a
bong outside their condo at 2am one morning. The comment, "Do you know
what goes on here while you are away?" had Marcy racing home from work
immediately. Jesus. What had her roommate been thinking?

It
was too bad for the woman's child, but safety was everything. There was no way
they would allow strange men or drugs in the house.

They
were to vacate by the New Year anyway as the owners were moving back into it. Her
friend, Amber, planned to move in with her mom, even though her mom drove her
nuts. Marcy and Katie would probably move in with some other single women. She
put a note up on the staff notice board in the casino and would have to see.

Marcy
sighed, thinking of the hassle involved in moving house again. She needed to be
in another place before Christmas.

Waking
early, Marcy got her daughter and Amber's daughter ready and walked them to
school with an abundance of nervous energy. She wanted to explain her
excitement to Katie, but decided to wait until everything was settled. A lot could
still go wrong. After a few deep breaths, she picked up her cell phone and
dialed the number.

"Bonjour?"
A cheerful voice said after one ring.

"Mr.
Chevallier?"

"
Mais
oui,
Marcy.
You have called, and on time exactly."

Marcy
wasn't at all surprised to find the man waiting for her. He was highly
recommended and for whatever reason, he wanted to give her a job. This was her
chance to keep her promise to her father and get out of casino work.

"I'm
calling to tell you that I will be happy to take the position that you are
offering me."

"But
of course!" Mr. Chevalier gave her a smug cheerful chuckle. "It was
Gustave that convinced you
, n'est-ce pas?
He is most respectable, and he
will be your direct superior. I love this man, and am blessed by his presence.
I could not do my work without him."

Marcy
smiled. She found Mr. Chevalier's expression of love toward his older servant
endearing. Only the French could be so open and passionate to someone they barely
knew.

"I
really appreciate this, Sir."

"
C'est
parfait, ma belle
," he said.
"You may learn more
French while you are with us. My employees are like family, you understand. They
are most curious about you, I am afraid. They will perhaps irritate you with
constant questions."

"That's
okay."

"Gustave
will keep them in check. Now, what is your address? For I will come to your
house and drive you to my home."

"Oh,
please don't bother. I can take a taxi."

"Non,"
he said. "It is your first day, and therefore
most special."

Marcy
gave him her address and Mr. Chevalier told her that he would be there within a
half an hour. "Is there anything particular I should be wearing?" she
asked.

"Casual
dress will be acceptable. You will have a uniform when you start. While I very
much admire the sizable bust which you wear to the Bellagio, in my household such
will not be necessary."

Marcy
surprised herself by giggling at this comment. How had he known about her
falsies? Mr. André Chevalier was even more observant that she thought.

"Today
you will be shown my home by Gustave, and interviewed by my security officer,"
he added. "If all is well then, perhaps tomorrow you will begin."

"That
sounds just great," she said.

They
said their goodbyes and hung up. Marcy decided against the slacks she was
wearing, changing into a round neck flare dress with short sleeves and a
gathered waist. It was her favorite dress as it accented her figure perfectly.
With its cream lining covered by dark blue lace it looked feminine, too. For
extra contrast she wore a thin red belt. With black low heeled pumps, and a red
coat, her ensemble was complete.

These
people were French, and the French were notorious for dressing well. She wanted
to show them that Americans could get decked out, too.

Other
than her best friend, Sue, who had moved to LA, and her new acquaintances at
the Bellagio, Marcy didn’t know many people anymore. The couples she knew while
married to Trent fell out of touch and drifted away. Why would they hang out
with a single mother? Not to mention the awkwardness over Trent's remarriage.

When
Marcy's mother first became ill, it was all she could do to care for her and
Katie. Friends, outside interests, and entertainment had all gone by the
wayside. Living day to day, paying the bills and trying to be a good mother was
about all she was able to manage.

Marcy
was confident that she would get on well with Mr. Chevalier's employees.
Meeting new people, having the time to enjoy them without the pressure of
working double shifts and paying childcare fees would be amazing.

Was
this really happening to her? From now on, if all went well, Marcy would have
more time and more money. Maybe she could even go back to school and finish
that nursing degree she started so long ago.

I'm
so glad that I didn’t steal that $100 note
.
If I did, Mr. Chevalier would have never offered me a job.