Le Chauffeur 1 - Jacques Fauré-Meyer

By Cathlin B

A new figure suddenly enters the life of young Jacques Fauré-Meyer, heir to a wealthy family. He will put Jacques’ boring world upside down. He will also have a deep impact in Jacques’ feelings. An enigmatic driver. A character that initially intimidates and causes anxiety in him, but who, at the same time, with his aura of mystery fascinates and attracts him. He will turn out to be a much more important figure than what Jacques initially thought. A bodyguard placed by his side to protect him from blackmailing and more …

• Language: English
• Publisher: Caterina Botturi
• Release date: Oct 27, 2016
• ISBN: 9781507153703

Book preview

First Chapter - 1989 Printemps

The usual black Mercedes with tinted windows that waits for me in the graveled driveway of the garden. The usual steps of white stone, so worn out that they are now smooth and slippery. The crunch of gravel beneath the soles of my leather shoes...

Bernard that greets me and with a smile opens the back door.

The sky is deep blue, like lapis lazuli. The air smells of green and soil, of ozone, of the new and tender leaves and of the first roses blooming on the bushes at the sides of the walkway. Spots colored in pink alternates with green ones and with the white gravel.

Everything is like every day, like every year of my life. Only the seasons change. The rest is always the same than the day before, and the day before that. In my 18 years nothing has changed, nothing has mutated.

It’s deathly boring!

I get in the car and Bernard sets off. He drives towards the gate of the villa. Then the hilly road, downhill, full of curves, bordered by the parks of the villas on one side and a row of manicured trees, on the other. Besides the trees, down below, the city extends with the dark roofs of the houses, the green tree tops, the museums and the cathedral, the broad boulevards full of trees and the lake. In the distance, wrapped in a light mist, the tall modern buildings rise up, flashing with the sky that reflects on the glass of their facades. The New Financial Center.

I sink into the comfortable seat, the backpack thrown on the floor. I look out through the tinted windows. Nobody can see inside, but to me it seems like I’m traveling through a long, endless night.

My school, my high school, is one of those old buildings with dark roofs that you can see from the hill where I live. It is there where Bernard takes me every morning and where he comes to pick me up when I finish. It is his job. Take me to school and come pick me up. Every now and then, he takes my sister shopping. Very rarely when my parents are home, he takes them to some parties.

Every day of my life, for what I can remember, since I started attending school.

Maybe today in the afternoon I’ll call Xavier, a freshman. He is 16 years old, but he is very good.

I’ll take him for a ride with Bernard, today in the afternoon, while I stay in the backseat, with the tinted windows and the sliding glass window closed, having fun with Xavier. Who knows where and how he learned to do it? It doesn't matter! What's important is that he doesn’t play hard to get and that he knows how to keep his mouth shut! Yes. Today I feel like enjoying a little boy that knows how to suck it very well!

Poor Bernard! He will have to drive aimlessly through the city with the car, until I tell him to go back home.

In the car with Bernard, it is the only moment that I have to myself, only for me, without my parents controlling me. He is the only one that doesn’t suffocate me, who doesn’t control me. He is the only one that knows my vices and has never mentioned them. He has always accepted it. The first time that I took a girl to her house, I hadn’t even raised the sliding glass window. He, without saying anything, did it for me. He wasn’t even shocked when I brought over the first boy.

«Monsieur Jacques?» He calls. He has always called me Monsieur, since I was little. Just like my parents had told him to do it.

I move my eyes towards him. He is watching me through the rearview mirror. We are on the city street that leads to my school. We are almost there. The morning traffic of the rush hour is intense. Some of my classmates rush by my side in their bicycles. Others walk in groups on the sidewalk.

«Did your father talk to you yesterday?»

«Yes...» of course he talked to me, on the phone. I gave him my usual evening report on the phone. My parents are away on a business trip. They usually are. Both of them, together. They are still so in love that it stinks! Practically all my friends’ parents are divorced or cheaters.

Even though they are never home, they control me, they suffocate me. They plan my days between school and sports practices. They want the best of me. They are happy only when I reach the results that they were expecting. They don’t care about the stress that I suffer, the tiredness that is killing me, the boredom that envelops me like a very tight bandage, and the loneliness.

«Did he mention anything about me?»

«No» my father did his usual preaching, his usual suggestions and, as usual, he ended the call saying that he loves me. The same words, each evening.

«I see...Then, I must tell you.» Bernard is always so impassive and neutral when he talks to me.

«Today is my last working day...»

«What?» the novelty attracts my attention for a moment, then, out of habit I ignore it, imperturbable. I assimilate the news with ostentatious indifference. That's what I've learned over the years from the adults around me.

«I’m retiring and this is the last working day for me.»

«Retiring? But you're not that old!» Inside me, I start panicking. The habit of a consistent routine for years, has not prepared me to face changes of any kind. I’m on the verge of a panic attack before going to school. Staying in the car with him is the only moment that I have to catch a breath. What will I do now with my 'long rides' if he leaves?

«Monsieur Jacques... I’m 65 years old, too many for a driver that is supposed to be a bodyguard too. For a while now, me and your father had agreed that tomorrow will arrive the new driver. We already found one: he’s a very valuable person, a professional, an actual bodyguard.»

«I don’t need any bodyguard to go to school!»

«I don’t know what to say. It is your parents’ decision.»

Shit! This is ruining all my plans. How will I manage to organize all my clandestine meetings now?

A quickie in the school is impossible. Going to the house of the people that interest me ... impossible! If my parents were to find out that I go meet my friends at their house, instead of studying ... act like a simple and common mortal ... they would take me out of school immediately and force me to study at home with a private tutor.

I’m in deep shit!

***

The next morning, in front of the entrance on the road of the house, at the usual millimetric spot, is parked the black Mercedes.

I stand on the terrace that leads down to the road. I don’t see any new driver waiting near the car.

It had never happened to me in 18 years. I look around, annoyed.

With the suit jacket unbuttoned, the tie loosened and the hands in my pants pockets, I study the situation. The irritation is slowly killing me. The unexpected situations gives me panic. A feeling of nausea starts building up from the stomach, causing unpleasant burning.

Behind me, still at home, I feel my sister approaches. She’s cheerfully chitchatting with somebody in a weirdly confidential tone. It's strange at this time of the morning and it's impossible that somebody came yesterday night to stay at our house.

She opens the sliding door behind me and calls my name. I turn around, right in time to notice her hand hanging from the arm of the person that walks next to her. She pulls her hand right after she notices my eyes on them. The guy, who a second before had a half smile on his face, changed immediately his expression, transforming his face into an ice mask.

The guest is a tall man, dressed in an elegant dark suit with a White shirt. His black tie is perfectly tied around the neck in a very tight knot. It is impeccable ... especially compared to me! He is in shape. He must be