Chapter Text
She watched Gaston Gautier’s tongue slide along the thick, greedy flesh of his bottom lip; his gaze lazily tracing Ruby’s curves as she completed her pas de cheval. Belle took a deep, quivering breath and prepared for her next penchè. Marie Michel swooped in perfect form to her left and with the last swell of music they had finished their performance. Gaston was waiting in the wing for her. He tucked two strong, sweaty arms around her waist and tugged her into an uncomfortable embrace. Belle struggled against his broad chest.
“Stop, Gaston!” She gasped, blocking his press with her slender forearms. “I need to get changed.”
Undaunted challenge pooled in Gaston Gautier’s eyes and his grip only tightened on her small frame, but then he released her.
“You know where to meet me when you’re finished,” he smirked easily while his eyes shifted to follow a handful of new recruits following Madame Vigneron to her office.
Belle watched his long stride quickly overtake the flock of girls before she turned and almost collided with a stern-faced Marie Michel Blanc.
“He’s a jerk. Why do you let him near you?”
Belle flinched, dropped her eyes and released a small sigh. “He’s the closest thing I have to family, Marie. He discovered me –gave me a place here. I owe him everything!”
“No, you don’t owe him anything! It was your talent, your dedication and hard work that got you this position with the company. You don’t owe him a thing!” Marie’s eyes softened and she slipped her arm around her comrade’s slumping shoulders. “Don’t worry. We’ll have you cheered up in no time!”
The dressing room was ringing with laughter and cheerful voices that lifted Belle’s spirit despite the heaviness of moments before. Ruby Vigneron was reenacting one of her grandmother’s famous disciplinary gestures and the girls were roaring with laughter. Her movements were spot on and Ruby’s face cloned Madame Vigneron’s daunting look so closely there could be no doubt of their blood ties. Belle laughed in spite of herself and moved over to the hanger to retrieve her change of clothes.
When she was finished Ruby and Marie stood, arms linked in her way. They had both changed, purses slung over their shoulders and determined looks on both their faces.
“We’ve decided you’re not going back out there tonight,” Ruby stated plainly. “He’s had way too many drinks! You saw the way my grandmother yelled at him when he tripped over the gears in act 1. You shouldn’t meet him tonight.”
“Let’s go out! Just us girls.” Marie smiled brightly. “We haven’t had a night out in ages! Ruby and I were just discussing that new café on the Rue de Charonne.”
Belle smoothed her hands absently over the navy eyelet folds of her cotton dress and contemplated the possibility of leaving Gaston alone tonight. He wouldn’t like it, but Belle didn’t particularly want to be the subject of his beastly affections right then. What the girls said was true and she knew what that meant for her when they reached his flat.
“Alright,” she finally surrendered. Both girls looked thrilled and another five minutes later the three of them had snuck out the dressing room’s back door and sped off in Ruby’s little red coup towards the Rue de Charonne.
The little café was already a buzz with crowds but Marie found a small table outside and the three of them were soon chatting gaily, sharing a pain au chocolat and sipping steamy mugs of coffee.
Marie Michel nudged Belle’s elbow and nodded once over Ruby’s shoulder at the far side of the patio.
“What is it?” Ruby asked, forgetting her raised fork in an attempt to strain her neck toward wherever her friend was pointing. Marie shook her head quickly.
“Stop, Ruby! You’ll draw attention to us!” She leaned forward conspiratorially and the others followed suit. “It’s Monsieur Gold. You know! The wealthy patron who always sits in the best seat in the house. They say his personality is absolutely terrifying! He use to be a cavalier but he was injured on the stage, so he turned to business.”
“Business must be doing well!” Ruby laughed and threw a playful glance over her shoulder.
“Tais toi, Ruby! Madame Vigneron says he hates women.”
Belle searched him out over another sip of her cappuccino. There he was, still in his black and whites, sipping his wine and reading a newspaper. His soft brown hair framing dark eyes and strong cheekbones brushed the shoulders of his overcoat. His features were sharp and lean. Belle noticed that every movement he made was deliberate and graceful. She didn’t know how long she’d stared at him but he glanced up and their eyes met. Belle felt her cheeks rush with warmth but she couldn’t look away. Those golden orbs held her own in place and she could no more look away than she could stop breathing. His eyes never left hers but she knew that he saw all of her –from her neck to her shoulders, to the prim dress down to the tips of her patent leather flats. After a moment he looked back down at his paper and Belle let out the little gasp of air she’d trapped in her lungs.