6325 Boulevard du Montparnasse

[The Exodus]

Toni Vandeleur has called 6325 Boulevard du Montparnasse home for the last few years; since securing her professorship at La Sorbonne, in fact. The flat is home to Toni, her impressive collection of books and plays, and sometimes her ex-boyfriend, Tom.


Inspiration for rooms. Location/balcony excluded!

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

OoC: Bill/Tom BiC:

William MaCarthy

There was an elevator in this building, and as Bill felt the little bundle under his shirt shift into a more comfortable position, he was grateful. But with his gratitude came a twinge on envy. He lived on the ninth floor and had no elevator. The night he returned from rehab, after long days at work, and nights of drinking with Damien would be a lot less of a burden if he had an elevator. Bill took in his surroundings, drinking them in like an expensive chocolate lacquer, silky smooth down his throat, tasting like opulence in a bottle. He felt the lump rise in his throat and he physically tried to push it down. He was a fish out of water here in this luxurious apartment complex. At the opera house, he could fake his dominance in a place with marble floors and stained glass windows, but here, he was not a stage manager, but Bill; just Bill. And Bill did not know what to do with himself in a place like this.

When he was younger and first met Damien, Ben refused to let Damien in their house, or even in their town; not after hearing Damien’s dad was a member of parliament and he might as well live in a castle. Bill had always thought it was stupid to hide his home from Damien. He was proud of his home, loved his natural habitat, saw nothing wrong with it. But Ben, infatuated with Damien, was ashamed.He even told him one time that he didn’t live there, and in fact lived with his rich relatives in Surrey.

It was now, in this very moment that Bill understood his brother’s adolescent concerns: Bill was dating a wealthier woman who lived in a building with an elevator. Bill, on the other hand, had no money, no elevator, and a sudden cloud of shame that hung over him, threatening to swallow him whole.

But he shook it off and put on a brave face as he stroked the little parcel under his shirt, hearing it purr sleepily like an unused car being put to use once more. Lucky for Mona, she could sleep. Bill, on the other hand, had to carry her inconspicuously to Toni’s apartment.

For the first time, he pulled out the key she had given him and put it to use, hearing the door unlatch, tiptoeing quietly as to surprise her. But as he searched the large and lavish apartment and saw no sign of his girlfriend, he sat down and decided to wait for her return. That, too, after all, would surprise her, would it not?

[The Exodus]

Tom Flannery

The bathrobe was so comfortable, Tom was thinking of keeping it. He almost didn’t care that it was a rich plum color or that it smelled like Toni’s Ma’s house. It had deep pockets and a fleecy, fluffy lining, a sash that actually tied it shut around his waist, and it hung just past his knees. He’d seen Toni in it a couple of times and, frankly, it swallowed her whole. It was hardly a lady’s robe—or rather, it was a lady’s robe, but it was made for one with a bigger frame than Toni would ever have. Like a female linebacker.

So, really, Tom might be doing her a favor, getting it off her hands.

Honestly, though, she was doing him a favor, letting him wear it while his clothes were at the Laundromat. She’d left to drop the clothes off that morning, when they were rowing about the bathrobe.

“You can’t go around in lady’s pajamas, Thomas,” she said, pushing his feet off the corner of the table. Tom didn’t look up from the newspaper.

“What’s a five letter word for ‘nagging woman’?” he asked.

“You can’t call me a b*tch because you forgot to do laundry,” she pointed out, getting up to pick up the laundry bags.

“Witch?”

“Keep it up and I’m not going to take them with me.”

“Harpy?”

“*ss-hole.”

“Too many letters. Shrew. That’s the ticket.” Tom scribbled in the word. Eleven across, connecting “Wichita” and “Hoover”. He looked up. “You’re an angel, you know.”

“You’re still an *ss-hole.”

“Aye, ‘s why I don’t deserve you.”

Toni rolled her eyes. “You never did. Reminds me, Bill and I are going out for dinner on Friday, so you’re on your own. Try not to burn down my kitchen.”

“You got it, mon capitian.”

“Tom, I was serious about that one.” Toni pushed the newspaper down when she spoke so that Tom would look her in the eyes. “Also, try to get some cleaning done. This place is starting to smell like a man cave.”

And with that, she left Tom alone with the crossword and a stack of dishes that climbed up to his eyes. He guessed it was fair that he had to do his share of the housework, but that didn’t mean he liked it. Toni hadn’t been the cleaning sort ten years ago, but the older she got, the more organized she seemed to want things. Tom did not pity her new boyfriend a whit. No, siree. Antonia Vandeleur was a slave driver in the worst ways possible. Clean this. Feet off the table. Stop putting my address down as your permanent residence. Christ, some people.

Still, she was his best friend in a lot of ways. Sometimes, he reckoned, Toni was his only friend. He was in a foreign city, whose language he could not master, searching for his son who didn’t even want to see him. Without Toni, he’d be homeless, friendless, and possibly sleeping on a park bench or in the subway. Desperation was a strange beast.

And Tom was so desperate to stay in Toni’s good graces that he was on cleaning duty. Dressed in her purple robe and wearing a pair of rubber, yellow gloves and a greasy apron, Tom battled the grime in the kitchen. First, he tackled the dishes and scrubbed them into submission. Now, he was attacking the caked-on grit that lodged on the stovetop. He wondered if Toni had ever cleaned this place, or if it really did smell like a man cave and it was all his fault. Tom was beginning to think Toni was just using him as free labor.

Like he said, slave driver.

He scrubbed at one of the burners, wondering if it would just be smarter to replace it, when the door opened. Tom listened as Toni moved through the living room wordlessly. She hadn’t said anything, so Tom assumed she was still peeved about the laundry. Best to give a woman her space, then. He went back to scrubbing.

Five minutes went by.

If Toni was really angry, she’d have been stomping off to her room or maybe telling him he had to go down and pick up the clothes himself from the laundry place. Tom set down his sponge and walked to the living room to check.

Seated on the couch was a curly-haired bloke with a cat. For a minute, Tom stared. This was either the mysterious Bill or the worst cat burglar in the history of the world. Tom smirked. Cat burglar. What kind of cat burglar delivered cats?

No, this was Bill all right. And Christ, was he young. Tom suddenly wondered if that was why Toni never brought Bill ‘round. Because maybe Bill was a student. The thought of Toni as the sultry professor-cougar seducing her students was a laugh. Tom wouldn’t have cared if she was shagging all her students. But maybe her boss might. And Tom was rubbish at secrets. That was fair.

But Bill was young and handsome and he had a key. So Tom knew things must have been serious. Or moving way too fast. He decided in that moment to mess with the kid’s head a bit.

“Well, bugger me,” Tom said, walking into the living room and putting his hands on his hips. “You are well fit. You must be the boyfriend.”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

William MaCarthy

The couch was comfortable. As Bill sat there, the sound of Mona purring in her sleep in his ear, he couldn’t help but imagine him and Toni on it, exploring each other… No. Too much, too fast. He hadn’t even told her about rehab yet and he owed it to her to not keep any secrets from her, not to let things go too fast before he even earned her full trust. It was juvenile and rude.

He stretched out with a soft sigh, taking another drink of the rich décor. Nope, he definitely was not in Kansas anymore. He was no longer in the black and white comfort of his lower middle class apartment and was suddenly thrust into this glorious, colourful world of some kind of wealth. It was startling, but not quite as startling as the rhythmic scratching sound he heard coming from somewhere in the apartment. He looked around, puzzled. Maybe Toni was home and was hoping to surprise him right back. He liked that idea better than any alternative that came to his mind.

The scratching continued, along with the sound of a faucet. Bill waited. And waited. It wasn’t the first time he had snuck into a home to find someone else in there, too. When he was seventeen, he snuck into an abandoned house that had been on the market for nearly six months to find an angry squatter with his dog, chasing them out after an hour or so of hanging out in an upstairs loft. But this was no abandoned home, there was no angry dog, Bill was not seventeen, and there was no chance in hell that was happening again. He cleared his throat, as if to make his presence known and waited.

“Well, bugger me,” a voice said and Bill was suddenly even more alert than he had been, looking around to find a tall man in a short purple bathrobe. If the costume had been a ploy to scare him, the man had obviously not seen Ben in a swimsuit. “You are well fit. You must be the boyfriend.”

Bill stood, bringing himself to full height, setting the kitten aside. “Well bugger me,” Bill responded. “You certainly aren’t Toni. Is there a name I can put to the bathrobe, or…” Bill was definitely confused. Who was this man? He didn’t look like Edward, Toni’s brother. Was he a cousin? A friend? (Bill hated to even think it) A husband? But he spoke with light, friendly humour. If this person meant something to Toni, being in their good graces was a straight shot to her heart.

[The Exodus]

Tom Flannery

Bill stood. He was roughly Tom’s height. He set the mewling kitten down on the couch. Tom leaned against the doorframe comfortably.

“Well bugger me,” Bill responded. “You certainly aren’t Toni. Is there a name I can put to the bathrobe, or…”

Tom chuckled. “You mean Toni hasn’t mentioned me? Well, there’s a shocker. I’m hurt.”

He pulled off the gloves and shoved them into the apron pocket. The gloves, in turn, made a smacking sound as they hit against one another. He studied Bill before pushing off the doorframe. He really did make Tom feel older than he had in forever. The kid was younger than Toni, even. And Toni was three years younger than Tom and…

Good Lord.

“Bugger me” was right.

Now he really wanted to mess with this kid.

“Guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” Tom continued, crossing to the arm chair and flopping down. “’S probably a mood-killer to bring up the man you live with to the man you’re dating.”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

William MaCarthy

Mona was somewhere, hidden in a corner of the room, playfully lurking, no doubt, as she often did. Bill diverted his eyes for just a moment to see where she had travelled off to before laying them back on the man before him. He was handsome, Toni’s age, and wearing nothing but a bathrobe. Somewhere, there was a disconnect in information. Dinner on Friday was going to be an interesting experience, that was for sure.

“You mean Toni hasn’t mentioned me? Well, there’s a shocker. I’m hurt.”[‘b]

Something told Bill this man’s name was not ‘Hurt’, nor was he of little importance.

“Guess I shouldn’t be surprised, ’S probably a mood-killer to bring up the man you live with to the man you’re dating.”

Surprisingly, Bill could think of bigger mood killers. For example ‘I just got out of rehab for Valium addiction’ seemed somehow more disappointing than ‘I have a roommate’. Lest, of course, there was something Miss Vandeleur was keeping from Bill. Fair enough, he supposed. There were secrets he had yet to spill to her, as well.

Bill supposed he wouldn’t be surprised if this man was her husband or something. After all he’d been through, it was too romantic and unrealistic to think he’d meet a woman like Toni and have there not be drawbacks. Maybe he was just destined to be alone.

No. He didn’t want to be alone, unless he was alone with Toni. She was different. She was fun. Interesting. Smart. She could, wouldn’t be married. Right?

“I suppose you’re right.” Come to think of it, Bill hadn’t mentioned that he, too, was living with a man. There was no room to be a hypocrite. “But that still doesn’t give me a name to call you.” Maybe with a name, Bill’s questions would all be answered. Maybe she had mentioned him before, but Bill had yet to put two and two together. “No matter. Do you know when she’ll be back?”

[The Exodus]

Tom Flannery

“I suppose you’re right,” Bill said. Clearly, he wasn’t as flappable as Tom hoped. Damn. Drat. Okay. He’d up the ante. “But that still doesn’t give me a name to call you. No matter. Do you know when she’ll be back?”

Tom lifted an eyebrow. “I’m not her secretary, boyo.”

He crossed one leg over his knee and studied him. Tom’s mouth twitched to one side and he scratched at his scruff. A devilish little smirk stretched his lips back out. This could be fun. Wicked, wonderful fun. He needed something to amuse him until Toni got back.

“No, definitely not her secretary,” he continued. “Toni and I have a much closer relationship than that, if you catch my meaning. It’s been almost fifteen years, give and take. You known her long, Bill?”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

William MaCarthy

The rubber gloves and fuzzy bathrobe had seemed friendly enough. That was, until the man used raised eyebrows and a smirk to accesorize the interesting ensamble. "I'm not her secretary, boyo."

Boyo. It was like talking to his grandfather. Come here, boyo, let me take a look at you." "Bless me stars! A degree, boyo? Couldn't be prouder. Couldn't be prouder, I say!" But some gut feeling, deep and low inside Bill, told him this 'boyo' wasn't meant in the same welcoming way his grandfather did. It felt patronizing, imposing.

"No definitely not her secretary." There was something in the other man's voice, a vocal fry that reminded Bill of a territorial tiger's growl. "Toni and I have a much closer relationship than that, if you catch my meaning. Its been almost fifteen years, give and take. You known her long, Bill?"

Christ. This was her husband ad Bill was the young lover who was in for a rude awkening. Bill almost raised a glass to an imaginary Mrs. Robinson and said 'heres to you'. There was a good reason Toni had never invited him in. She was married and this relationship had been too good to be true. Bill was a moron. A f*cking moron for letting himself be led on again, for coming here, and for fanning the fire.

"You tell me; since you and Toni are so close, should you know? Obviously, she's mentioned me."

[The Exodus]

Tom Flannery

This was fun. Toni would murder him, of course, but Tom wasn't thinking about consequences. Instead, he focused his energy on trying not to laugh. Bill's eyes sparked in a way that told Tom he had him: hook, line, and sinker. The whole tackle box. Tom could play jealous husband or whatever. Sometimes he wondered why Toni was the actor. It wasn't so hard. It was lying for a lark; no malicious intent. Tom could do that. He could do anything for a good laugh.


"You tell me," said Bill. "Since you and Toni are so close, should you know? Obviously, she's mentioned me."

"Aye," Tom said, leaning back. "She's said plenty about you. Since February you two have been a 'thing.' Yeah?"

Tom stood up and crossed the room. It seemed the thing to do. It also gave him an excuse to go to the window and check for Toni. Coast was still clear.

"Oh, I know enough about you Bill MaCarthy," he contined, leaning against the glass pane. "Enough to know I could never compare to you... could never compete. What can I say? The best man won."

He suppressed the welled up feeling of giggles in his throat. They came out as a sort of strangled sound.

"She's mad about you, mate," he said looking over his shoulder at Bill. "Who am I to stand in the way of her happiness?"

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

William MaCarthy

Bill, it seemed, never got a break when it came to love, unless that break was in the form of a fissure through his heart. First, Victorine toyed with his emotions like a toy mouse before an angry cat, teasing him with false beautifully dolled up and stripped down as truth; and just when Bill found a woman-- a good, kind, beautiful, intelligent woman-- to give his heart to, regardless of the battered and bruised condition it was in, she was taken. Why couldn’t Bill’s lucky stars coalesce, just once, to form a smiling constellation?

"Aye. She's said plenty about you. Since February you two have been a 'thing.' Yeah?"

Bill nodded slowly. It was in November when the kind, sarcastic professor loaned him her copy of ’The Clean House’, corrected him on his misconceptions of the writer, and agreed to see the performance. It was in December when the number he left her was used for the personal purposes of her students, and it was in January when they kissed cinematically at the toll of midnight on New Years. Bill knew the math, and was almost surprised this man didn’t, since he seemed to know all the intimacies of Bill’s relationship with Toni.

"Oh, I know enough about you Bill MaCarthy,” the man said, pacing to the window, making Bill feel less and less inferior by the second. The man turned his back to him; if Bill had learned one thing about social graces from Ortiz, it was to never turn your back on your opponent in a fight. Even if that fight was over a woman.

Especially if that fight was over a woman.

"Enough to know I could never compare to you... could never compete. What can I say? The best man won."

Taking the highroad was moral, and seldom walked. The unbeaten path seemed alluring for a transient moment. In that moment, Bill could feel the ethical soil of the highroad between his toes, smell its good intensions, but Bill was no fool. He had given up too much lately, he was not about to give up on Toni. So along he walked on the hot pavement of selfish desire with a million other fools. Here, he could sharpen his weapons in preparations for fight for what he wanted. And he wanted Toni. God, did he ever.

"She's mad about you, mate," the man said, as if assuring Bill that Toni wanted him, too. And Bill smiled unconsciously. "Who am I to stand in the way of her happiness?"

The man was giving up almost too easily. This war was easier than Bill imagined it would be. He laid down his heavy load of arsenal and took a breather. “Funnily, she never mentioned you, that being so, you’re right: who are you to stand in the way of her happiness?”

That was quite possibly the cockiest thing to ever come out of his mouth, but Bill was on a mission, and he was not leaving until it was completed with victory.

[The Exodus]

Toni Vandeleur

The wheeled cart rattled along the cobblestones as Toni pushed it back from the Laundromat. Honestly, Tom was more child than man. It was a wonder he was unmarried, still. Not that he was a particular prize to be won, but rather, that he could tie his own shoes without a woman fussing over him stunned Toni. She’d known the man for fifteen years and he always got like this. Forgetful, unmotivated, focused on the wrong things. He neglected his appearance, his chores, his bills, whatever while working on a new project. But this “project” wasn’t a short story he would get a couple hundred pounds from doing. It wasn’t a magazine or newspaper article. It was finding his biological son—the proverbial needle in a haystack—and as far as Toni was concerned, he was taking his sweet time to actually find the boy. Still, she let him stay because he was her best friend. Her infuriating, maddening best friend.

But after today, Tom Flannery would be doing his own laundry.

She entered her apartment building and took the elevator up to her flat, rehearsing the perfect monologue to deliver when she saw Tom, but when she reached her apartment and opened the door, the self-penned lines disappeared. She saw Tom, standing by the window—still wearing her purple bathrobe and looking utterly ridiculous—and Bill standing in front of the couch.

“It doesn’t much matter who I am, boyo,” Tom said, apparently unaware of Toni’s presence. “What matters is that you can’t play knight-in-shining-armor forever.”

“Why not?” Toni asked coolly, locking the wheels on the laundry cart. “I rather enjoy the princess treatment. It’s a big step up from some of the men I’ve dated.”

“Jesus Christ, woman!” Tom said, turning around in what Toni thought was a dramatic fashion. “Give a man a heart attack, why don’tchya?”

“Bill,” Toni said, crossing the room and running a hand along Bill’s shirt front. “I see you’ve met Tom. Tom, what have you been telling him?”

“Oh, nothing. Nothing ‘t all.”

“Right.” She shook her head. “What has he been telling you?”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

William MaCarthy

Bill never got the girl in the end. Sometimes, things just didn’t work out, other times, he was left… Bill had read this anti-fairytale before, and each time he did, it stayed the same. It never closed with ‘and they lived happily ever after’. Instead, it ended with ‘Bill was alone, but at least he lived’. But once, just once, he wanted to sweep the princess off her feet and ride off into the sunset on his gallant steed instead of some bittersweet farewell or abrupt end like he had had in the past.

“It doesn’t much matter who I am, boyo. What matters is that you can’t play knight-in-shining-armor forever.”

No, he couldn’t. The man was right, forever was a long time. One day, Bill would climb up the echelons to become more than the knight. One day, he would slough off that title and trade it for another. Because, after all, what happened after he rescued the princess? Bill smiled to think of the possibilities.

But before Bill could voice his thoughts, a scratchy kind of coo piped up, like an angel who had breathed in too much earthly smog for too long. “Why not?” Toni asked, the voice having a body now, and Bill smiled to see her. She was a lovely, soothing sight to see, materializing behind a laundry cart, as if it was her own personal limo. “I rather enjoy the princess treatment. It’s a big step up from some of the men I’ve dated.” Toni said, making Bill’s chest swell with pride. Bill was a step up for once. And the princess treatment, Toni Bill thought, checking to be sure he hadn’t said it aloud, is precisely what you shall get.

“Jesus Christ, woman! Give a man a heart attack, why don’tchya?” The man said, and Bill jumped, too, at hid counterpart’s shock. The man may have been trying to be menacing, but he couldn’t hide his boisterous nature. Bill had decided yet if that was a compliment or not.

“Bill, I see you’ve met Tom. Tom, what have you been telling him?” Toni asked, sliding her hand to the space just above Bill’s heart. He couldn’t tell if that the beat of his own four-chambered blood chamber or Toni’s pulse he felt. Regardless, the small pressure there felt good and Bill couldn’t fight the large grin that buckled onto his face like a weak foundation.

“Oh, nothing. Nothing ‘t all.” The man said, and Bill scoffed.

“Right. What has he been telling you?”

Bill considered telling Toni that she was married to this Tom bloke (didn’t she know?) and that Bill simply had to fight to the death. But that would only fight fire with an icy hot bite.

“Nothing, my dear,” he settled on, “just that I won you and in doing so, got a great one.”

If Bill had an angel and devil to sit on his shoulders, the conversation, he imagined would go something like this:

“Really, Bill? Starting this relationship out with a lie?” the angel Bill would say.

To which the devil Bill would respond “Oh, come now! It wasn’t only a white lie, it was a compliment! You won a great girl there, Bill. And you’re staying on this ‘Tom’ bloke’s side at the same time. I should applaud you.”

And Bill agreed. He thought it was a good response, a nice save. And he prayed to God it wouldn’t get him into trouble.