Sylvain Reynard - Gabriel’s Inferno

Julia was only half-listening. Simon made her feel used. Filthy. Pathetic.

And she didn’t want Gabriel to look at her like that. She didn’t want him to know what had happened. Ever.

“Sweetheart, what did he want?”

“He thinks I have some pictures of him, and he wants them back.”

“What kind of pictures?”

Julia sniffled. “I don’t know. They must be pretty bad if he’s so worried.”

“Do you have anything like that?”

“No! But he says he has videos of me. Personal videos.” She shuddered.

“I don’t think he does, but what if I’m wrong? What if he fabricates something and sends it to my father? Or posts it online?”

Gabriel swallowed his revulsion as he reached over to wipe her tears away. “He won’t do that, unless he’s stupid. As long as he thinks you have something potentially damaging to him, he won’t act preemptively. I could speak with your father and explain that I heard this miscreant threaten you.

Then no matter what he posts online you’ll be able to say it’s a fabrication created by a stalker.”

Julia looked up at him wildly. “You can’t. My dad is already upset that I’m traveling to Selinsgrove with you. He can’t know we’re together.”

Gabriel ran his fingers through her hair before he quickly wiped away another tear. “You didn’t tell me that. Not that I blame him. But you need to tell him what happened tonight so that he won’t give Simon any more information.”

Julia nodded.

“I can speak to my lawyer tomorrow. You can file a complaint against him, and we can try to get a restraining order. We can also try to figure out if he actually has videos of you or if he’s bluffing.”

“I don’t want to do anything to antagonize him. You don’t understand — he has powerful connections.”

Gabriel pressed his lips together. He wanted to push her to take action, or to take action on her behalf, but it was clear that she was traumatized.

And he didn’t want to add to her distress.

“If he contacts you again, I’ll speak with my lawyer and that boy will be introduced to an entirely new level of discomfort. Tomorrow, I’ll take you to pick out a new cell phone, and we’ll get you a Toronto number. You should tell your father to keep the new number secret.”

He lifted her chin so that she would look into his eyes. “He can’t touch you. I promise.” He smiled widely. “Don’t let the glasses and bow ties fool you. I can take care of myself. And I won’t let anyone hurt you.” He kissed her lips chastely and added a small kiss to her forehead. “When we’re home for Thanksgiving, you’ll be with me when you aren’t with your father. And I’ll always be only a phone call away. All right?”

She murmured just to let him know that she’d heard him.

“Julia?”

“Yes?”

He pulled her into a closer embrace. “This was my fault.”

She gave him a questioning look.

“If I hadn’t left you that morning — if I had come back to Selinsgrove to find you…”

She shook her head. “I was only seventeen, Gabriel. Dad would have pulled a gun on you.”

“I should have waited.”

She sighed, and her face wore a pained look. “You don’t know how much I regret not waiting for you. He’s why I never celebrate my birthday.

And he just ruined it again.” She began to cry quietly.

Gabriel kissed away her tears. “Forget about him. It’s just us, now.

No one else.”

Julia wanted to believe him. But unfortunately, she knew that her past was only just now beginning to catch up with her. She trembled in fear when she thought about what the holidays might bring.

Julia had very bad luck when it came to Thanksgiving.

On Tuesday evening, Julia had a very tense albeit edited conversation with her father about the previous weekend’s events. She called him on her new iPhone, explaining why she had to change her number. He’d been trying in vain to speak to her for three days but had only reached her voice mail. He was annoyed.

“Dad, I had to change my number because Simon called me.”

“Oh, really?” Tom’s voice was hesitant, which made Julia suspicious.

“Yes, really. He said that you gave him my number. Then he called and harassed me!”

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered.

“I’ll give you my new number, but I don’t want you to share it with anyone, especially Deb. She’ll just turn around and give it to Natalie.”

Tom continued talking to himself, as he was wont to do. Until he realized there was a person on the other end of the line. “Don’t worry about Deb.”

“Yes, Dad, I worry about her! Her daughter still talks to Simon. What if she tells him I’m coming home? He could show up at your house!”

“You’re overreacting. He isn’t going to drive all the way out here. We had a nice conversation last week. He was very polite and simply said that you had a few things that belonged to him. He didn’t want to bother you, but I gave him your number and said it would be okay for him to call you.”

“I don’t have anything of his! And even if I did, you know I don’t want to talk to him. He is not a good guy, Dad. He acts one way around you.

With me…” Julia shook slightly.

“Are you sure it wasn’t a misunderstanding?”

“It’s pretty difficult to misunderstand threats and harassment, Dad. He doesn’t get to talk to me. He doesn’t get to be my friend. And no apology will make up for what he did.”

Tom sighed into the phone.

“All right, Jules. I’m sorry. I won’t give anyone your number. But are you sure you don’t want to give him a second chance? He comes from a great family. And everyone makes mistakes.”

Julia rolled her eyes so hard they nearly spiraled out of her head and dropped onto the floor. In that instant she wanted to be vindictive. She wanted to ask her father if he would have taken her mother back if he’d seen what she walked in on at age twelve — Sharon bent over the kitchen table by one of the boyfriends. But she was not vindictive, so she didn’t.

“Dad, he might be a senator’s son but he’s a son of a bitch. And what was broken can never be fixed. Trust me.”

Tom exhaled loudly. “Okay. When are you coming home?”

“Thursday.”

“And you’re driving with Rachel and Aaron?”

“That’s the plan. Gabriel is coming too.” Julia tried to make her lie convincing.

“See to it that you stick close to Aaron and as far as possible from Gabriel.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s a bad apple. I’m surprised he isn’t in jail right now. All I can say is he’s lucky he moved to Canada.”

Julia shook her head. “If he was a felon, the Canadians wouldn’t have granted him a work visa.”

“Canadians let anyone in. Including terrorists.”

Julia stuck her tongue out at her father’s anti-Canadian bias and proceeded to plan her visit with him, hoping against hope that he would keep his promises.

* * *

After another Dante seminar in which Christa shamelessly flirted with Gabriel, Julia found herself walking home with Paul, who continued to be charming and friendly. They commiserated over Christa’s new sexier-than-thou wardrobe and please-let-me-seduce-you-before-you-fail-me stiletto boots, before Julia bid him good evening and entered her apartment. She made herself a modest dinner of chicken noodle soup and Lady Grey tea, and admired her birthday presents.

Once Julia’s birthday had been so rudely interrupted by Simon, Gabriel poured her a glass of wine and insisted that she relax by the fire while he prepared dinner. After dinner and a candlelit birthday cake, he presented her with gifts before taking her to bed.

He’d stayed awake almost all night, caressing her back and her arms, their legs rubbing together. She’d woken up several times in a nightmare-induced haze, but each time he’d comforted her and held her more tightly.

She felt safe with him but worried about how he would react when he found out the truth. If she was ever able to work up the courage to speak the words.

Her iPhone was a gift — of sorts. On Sunday morning, when Gabriel sheepishly held out the broken pieces of her old phone, she’d laughed, for which he’d been grateful. When he explained that he was so angry that Simon had upset her that he’d smashed her phone, she smiled. She graciously accepted his more sophisticated replacement as well as his patient tutelage in learning how to operate the damn thing.

He’d uploaded the photos Rachel took at Lobby, which pleased her greatly. And he helped her enter all her contacts and numbers, although he’d arched an eyebrow when she explained that he needed to enter the name “Dante Alighieri” in conjunction with his own number. He’d also stubbornly insisted on choosing his own ring tone.

Julia’s primary birthday gift was a series of digital copies of Gabriel’s Botticelli prints. He had them mounted in a special book with her name engraved in gold letters on the cover. Even though they were only copies, the collection was priceless. And he had handwritten a dedication on the flyleaf in his elegant script:

To my Darling Julianne,

Happy Birthday.

May each year be better than the last

and may you always have happiness.

With enduring affection,

Gabriel

She fingered his inscription, tracing the curls of the capital G. The illustrations were, without doubt, the finest gift she had ever received.

In addition, Gabriel had given her a small photo album of black-and-white pictures. In some of them, her identity was recognizable. In the rest, the subject was only a glimpse of a face, or a lock of hair against a long, white neck or a laughing girl with her eyes closed. She felt beautiful when Gabriel kissed her and when he touched her. But viewing these photographs made her feel as if Gabriel saw her beauty. He saw and captured it, recording it forever.

Some of the pictures were sexy, some were innocent, and some were sweet. None of them were embarrassing or the kind of photo that would humiliate her if they were sent to her father or posted on the internet. Her favorite was one in which she stood in profile while a hand with long white fingers held up her hair, a man’s face in shadow pressing his lips to the nape of her neck. She could have blown that photo up to poster size and tacked it to the wall over her bed, the Holiday painting be damned.

Take that, simple Simon. P

“Why are you calling? Is something wrong? Did you do something to Julia? I swear to God, Gabriel, if you — ”

Gabriel held his iPhone away from his ear as his sister expertly berated him. “I didn’t do anything to Julia,” he interrupted. “Her ex-boyfriend called her on Saturday, and she went to pieces. I’d like some answers.”

“Holy shit. Is she okay?”

“She was very upset. But she won’t tell me much.”

“Of course not. Why would she talk about it with her professor?”

Gabriel bristled. “We were discussing Thanksgiving and making plans for the trip when that motherfucker interrupted us.”

“A bit angry there, Gabriel. Why do you care?”

“Because that bastard, whoever he is, sweet talked her father into di-vulging her unlisted cell phone number so that he could harass her.”

“Shit,” said Rachel.

“Quite,” said Gabriel. “So before I bring her back to Selinsgrove, where he might possibly pay her a visit, I’d like to know who I’m dealing with.”

His sister was silent.

“Rachel? I’m waiting.”

“I don’t know what you’re expecting me to tell you. This is Julia’s past.

You need to ask her.”

“I told you, she won’t talk about it.”

“Can you blame her? If you know that he’s a motherfucker, then you know why she doesn’t want to talk about him. She won’t even say his name out loud — she’s that skittish.” Rachel paused for a minute and took a deep breath. “Simon’s father is Senator John Talbot.”

Gabriel blinked in recognition. “And?”

“Julia met Simon when they were freshmen. He swept her off her feet in the beginning, but I got the impression that he could be difficult. She went to Florence her junior year, and when she came back, they broke up.

I didn’t see her again until I came to visit you. Aaron hated Simon, so I didn’t spend a lot of time around them.”

Gabriel fumed. “You didn’t answer my question. What kind of difficulties are we talking about? Assault? Infidelity? Emotional abuse?”