izzy

Paul smiled from underneath his black tinted sunglasses. “Sorry Minxie,” he said in his own deep voice. “But Pedro’s got special orders for this young gentleman to take you home.”
She turned to Gaspard and noticed him for the first time; smile growing on her face. “Oh- Hi.” She said simply, and stuck out a tiny hand coated in excess sugary glitter. He took it, muttering a quick “Hi” back as he stood searching her face, a crooked grin stuck on her tanned skin. From what Gaspard saw she was now a day and night difference from the dancer he had seen on stage. Although some of her makeup was left on, she had changed into a grey lightweight v-neck covered by some vintage leather jacket and jean combo. Her Adidas high-tops, he noticed, were not unlike a pair Gaspard had in his closet at home. The beanie slipped a little bit down the slide of her face and he could see up close the extremely feminine features of her face but still…something threw him off about her. Something he just couldn’t put his finger on.
“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow night then.” She said briskly to the bodyguard after they dropped their hands. She patted the backpack slung around her slim frame and turned back to Gaspard. “Come on, I don’t live far away.” She beckoned him to walk and Gaspard followed, feeling sort of stupid or like a clingy stray dog.
He hurried up beside her and kept his hands in his pockets and mouth shut as they strolled through the backstreets of Paris. It was almost surreal.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” she said suddenly after they had walked a couple of blocks from the club. She smiled again at Gaspard for some unknown reason and stopped and held out her hand again. “Sorry, but it isn’t a proper greeting if I don’t somewhat introduce myself. I’m Minxie.”
They exchanged hands again and he nodded at her. “Gaspard Augé.”
Her eyes widened as they regained pace. “That’s such a pretty name.”
He snorted. “What, the Augé part? I guess.”
She shook her head as the large, soft brown eyes took in the night scene. “No, the Gaspard part. It’s pretty. I like that name.”
“Oh.” He was at a loss for words and his heart beating in his chest was like a synthetic drum beat that could very well find on his electronic keyboard back home. “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.”
They had approached a crosswalk and they stopped as a few cars flew by, loud rap verses screaming dirty French slang drummed out in the car subwoofers. Something clicked in Gaspard’s mind as he stared at the girl secretly at the crosswalk, repeatedly hearing her voice pronouncing “Minxie” over and over in his head like a record. He somewhat hoped that Minxie was probably just her stage nickname or backstage moniker- who would actually name their daughter Minxie?
“Is Minxie your real name?”
She shot a glance at him, dreamy smile dropped from her beautiful face. “Uh- not exactly.”
He cocked his head. “Then will you tell me it?”
She must’ve been prepared for that response because instantly her expression darkened and even in the silence of the shadows he could tell he had said something wrong. When the crosswalk flashed green she hurried forward, head bent down and arms crossed.
“Hey!”