Read Online Young and Revolting: The Continental Journals of Nick Twisp by C. D. Payne - Free Book Online

from our mystery appointment for me to help Reina carry her birds down to her car. And poor Maurice had to hold it all morning (his papa sleeps in from his late-night theatrical high jinks). We took the Métro to Belleville, an exotic, somewhat seedy Sino-African district. The address was a former clothespin factory, now converted to trendy offices. Mr. Denis Bonnet’s suite was on the third floor. No, his name is not pronounced like your granny’s old sun hat. His tall, anorexic secretary dresses like she recently relocated from Mars. She served us some sort of fizzy herbal beverage, then Mr. Bonnet appeared and had another earnest conversation with Sheeni. He is one intense dude. Even his sharp black suit looked like it was on an adrenaline rush. I’d guess his age as around 30.
    Then three giggling schoolgirls—dressed like prostitutes—entered, squealed when they saw me, and jumped around clutching each other as if it were 1964 and they had just spotted Ringo Starr. This went on for quite some time. I wondered why they weren’t in school or heavily medicated. More people entered. Very outlandishly garbed. Everyone was smoking, talking at once, and looking me over. One artsy guy in yellow silk pantaloons and muddy combat boots offered me a small cigar from a case hammered out of old East German license plates. I politely declined. You’d think people that hip would know a little English, but everyone prattled away in French. I sipped my herbal drink and listened to My Love’s calm responses. God knows what she was telling them. Then, suddenly, everyone was shaking hands and kissing cheeks. The schoolgirls were led away (back to their padded cell?) and the meeting adjourned.
    Mr. Bonnet introduced us to another guy in a suit, a Mr. Petit, who escorted us back to his office, where we had a seat while he inspected our passports. I noticed that he exclaimed and slapped his forehead several times while interrogating Sheeni about my documents. This I took as a bad sign. He also made several phone calls that appeared to be urgent in nature. Hey, I never wanted to come to his damn country in the first place.
    Eventually, that meeting concluded as well, and we returned to the reception area, where I was photographed from every angle by the secretary. Then, at last, we were trooping down the stairs to the street. The whole thing had been only slightly worse than root canal surgery gone awry.
    My Love is still clammed up about what’s going on. She says there’s no need for a long speculative discussion since at this point things are still “so tentative.”
    I informed her that I was keeping an open mind, but wished to go on record that as far as I was concerned “total nudity” was off the table.
    “ I’m not taking my clothes off, darling,” I insisted. “Especially not around those wacky girls.”
    “ You are one sick individual,” was her only comment.
    9:30 p.m. Couldn’t procrastinate any longer. Called my father at his lumber company office in Ukiah. I figured he’d be back from lunch—poised at his keyboard for more public relations dissimulations. “Hiya,” I squeaked, “this is Nick.”
    “ Nick who?” he demanded.
    Another profound parental “don’t exist” message. I’m used to them.
    “ Nick Twisp. Remember? Your son?”
    “ Nick! Where the hell are you? Are you calling from some jail? Hey, buddy, I’m not bailing you out!”
    “ I’m not in jail, Dad. I’m doing fine. I’m OK.”
    “ Oh, yeah? I suppose you’re on the streets somewhere, peddling your ass for drug money.”
    “ No, Dad. I’ve got three jobs. I’m not on drugs. I’m doing great.”
    “ Jesus, Nick, I never thought you’d turn out so bad. I should have slapped you down hard after that first smart remark.”
    Leave it to my father to belt a three-year-old.
    For Connie’s sake I soldiered on. “Dad, I’ve got some interesting news. Lacey’s boyfriend just died and left her ten million dollars.”
    “ I’m