Chapter Text
When the phone rang again, Geneviève felt like crying. She was so, so tired. She had just gotten home. Dawn creeping in through the window. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed and get a few hours of sleep before Clea descended on her with the full force of French bureaucracy. She highly considered blowing off Jack’s call, but she knew he would not let her be as long as he didn’t have answers. Not after tonight.
“What” she snapped.
“What have you done to Tobias?”
Genevieve sat up, anger energizing her. He had no right to be talking to her in that tone, not after poaching Cheyenne.
“I got some great publicity for him and for the ballet, that is what I did” she fired back. “Which we will need if our étoile does not return to Paris!”
“Oh, this is not about Cheyenne, Geneviève! Three months ago when he left New York, that kid didn’t even like shaking hands. You’ve had him for three months and now he’s... French kissing out on stage in front of millions of people with one of your French…vixens! So what did you do? Is it drugs? Have you been drugging my prize choreographer?”
“First of all, that kid, as you say, is a thirty-five year old man. A man who cannot buy his own toothpaste, but a man nevertheless. And secondly, this is France. I cannot stop someone from falling in love. It is un-French.”
“Falling in lo— now wait just a minute, Geneviève,” Jack sputtered.
“Oh, it was very romantic to watch, Jack,” she smouldered. “Gabin was like a terrible little puppy jumping around everywhere to work with Tobias, and dance for Tobias, and Tobias this, and Tobias that. And then Tobias was refusing to work with anyone except Gabin, because his pieces are created for Gabin, and nobody can replace Gabin, and now we have to bail out Gabin because nothing is right without—”
“Bail— this is your convict dancer we’re talking about? The one who bites cops?”
“Oh, don’t be like that, Jack. He only attacks people who provoke him.”
“Only people who provoke him? Well I guess that’s fine, then because Tobias never provokes anyone – oh! Wait! He provoked an entire audience, just last night!”
“Yes! And they loved it! And then he told everyone that he wants to stay in Paris!” she exclaimed triumphantly. “For Gabin! So maybe we don’t need our étoile back after all. You can keep the bratty, incontrollable primadonna, Jack. And I will keep Tobias! Because unlike you, I have a way to control him now!”
“No, don’t you dare, woman! We raised that kid from a pup. He’s got Manhattan sewage running in his veins. We’ll ship over Gabin if we have to, but you are not keeping Tobias!”
“Oh, I would like to see you try to bring Gabin to the US, Jack. A man with a criminal record, and unlike you he understands loyalty! He will never leave me. And Tobias will never leave Gabin. And at least someone will get a happy ending,” she added bitterly.
“Oh, you think – well, we’ll just see about – I am going to call Tobias right now and–” Jack seethed in outrage.
“Don’t bother, Jack,” Geneviève interrupted. “He’s not going to pick up, he’s busy making sweet love to his French vixen. I saw them leave the theater together after the show.”
Jack made a noise of disgust. “I did not need that visual, Gen.”
“Picture it,” she taunted. “Your precious little choreographer, all wrapped up in my dancer, naked and sweating, hands roaming over each other like a por—”
Jack had hung up.
Tiredness forgotten, Genevieve stood up from the bed and crossed to her messy desk. She considered for a moment, then grabbed a notepad. Clea would probably want to meet in a few hours. And the marketing people. She started writing by the light of the rising sun. They had to use the momentum on this. And with it she could build a case. A case for keeping Tobias Bell in Paris.