6.

SOLEIL

I stand up and walk around the expansive kitchen. I'm curious as to what's behind the closed doors and I'm blown away when they give way to a dining room with a table large enough to seat 20 people.

People are rich at Milton House but this is on another level.

He said the house belongs to a club of his dad's. Sorry I mean manor, because calling this place a house is an understatement if not downright insulting.

I walk around the room looking at the portraits of all the different men, white men, hung up in prestige.

This looks like a very exclusive club if you know what I mean.

No women and no brown faces.

None at all.

I turn around wanting to voice my grievances to Brice only to find him leaning against the door of the threshold. My words die in my throat at the intense look he levels me with. I can tell he wants me but I don't know why and most importantly what game he's playing at.

He copped a feel in the car and kissed me - albeit a peck on the lips.

He asked me to go out with him but threw me off when he offered to pay me for my tutoring services. I'm discombobulated to put it lightly.

The drive out here was the breath of fresh air I needed. I felt like I was flying down the highway standing through the sunroof having my hair tossed about. Even breakfast was a nice touch. The fact that he was the one making it being the cherry on top. I didn't think that a man of Brice's caliber knew his way around a kitchen.

This date is giving all kinds of confusing messages.

$1500 a week is good money though. Aunt Michelle will be proud of this little coup when I catch her up over the holidays.

"Do you want me to give you a tour?"

"Uhm," I check the time on my trusted Cassio considering the classes I signed up for in this final block. "Sure, although I doubt we have much time."

"Always such a good girl." He takes a hold of my hand giving my palm a kiss with this smouldering look in his eyes.

I blink breaking the brief spell I'm caught under. He turns around walking us out of the room, my hand still firmly in his.

"So, how does one become a member of this little club?" Now I'm being insulting. This place is anything but little by the looks of it.

"The criteria has changed." He leads me down a different hall of impressive art. "The founding members where Frenchmen who were fleeing Europe and the church. They were in search of liberty and wealth. My father wants to maintain our French roots so if you can trace your bloodline and of course have the money to buy in."

"How much is the buy in?"

"$100 000"

As much as I want to choke on the sheer cost, I play it cool.

"Is this a one-time fee or are there other costs?"

"I said buy in mon cher."

He leads me to the sun-room which is much warmer than the other parts of the house we've seen so far.

"The annual fee ranges from $25 000 to $50 000 depending on the amenities you choose. Why? Do you want to join?" He smirks at me.

"Am I allowed to join?"

"Non."

"What? Why not?"

"You're a woman."

"Excuse me?"

He breathes out in exasperation and I attempt to snatch my hand away. My attempt is futile. His grip tightens as he leads me down another passage and up a winding staircase.

"There are certain responsibilities we're forced to shoulder that do not extend to women. Moreover, the wives of the members are welcome to the manor as an extension of their husbands. But they do not belong to the club."

"So, I need a dick to join?"

"You also need to be French. Welcome to the cigar lounge. Ever tried one?"

I scrunch up my nose. He chuckles and shakes his head sympathetically.

"If the women wanted their own club then surely they would have put their resources together to start one."

"Maybe they didn't because they weren't allowed to work or have property in their name."

"That may have been true a hundred years ago but women have been working for the past 50 years. From what we've read, white women are the best paid among them. Based on the wives I've met and their husbands' stories, they prefer to enjoy the finer things in life.

"Even my maman would rather spend her time exploring the world and her various talents than attend to me, let alone a club that requires sacrifice. Why do you think she sent me away to boarding school?" he snorts in derision.

I don't think it was his intention, but Brice is opening up to me about his family issues. As much as I want to call him a bigot, I have a feeling a lot more is going on here than meets the eye. I had pegged him as Afrikaans but throughout this morning, I noticed he slips in French words throughout our conversation.

I consider opening up about my family but for now I want to listen. Do I even know him or did I simply like what I saw on the surface?

He still makes me swoon every time I meet his eyes. He sets off the butterflies in my stomach when he calls me mon cher.

Get a grip girl. You can't be that easy.

"Have you ever had any black members?" I ask, genuinely curious about how strict their "policies" are.

He laughs, literally laughs, at my question. I am starting to get very annoyed with Brice Le Roux. This time I manage to pull my hand away from him and walk off only to be caught by the waist.

He pulls me into him and sniffs my hair. Goosebumps break out over my skin. As much as I can't stand his attitude right now, he still makes me weak at the knees.

"The French have always been a proud people. We can barely stand the English. Africans are a whole new world in comparison."

"There are Black folks who are French though." I mutter petulantly.

"Yes and there are white folks who are Africans, too," he adds with an eye roll. "Yet their culture is different, their language is different, and even their gods."

"What do you mean?"

He looks at me for a beat before redirecting us out of the lounge. "This wing is where my family stays when we visit including Hidde."

He changes topics going back to the safety of the tour. I decide not to pry any further.

"Hidde Hugo, as in our Head Boy, is also a member of the club?"

Brice nods his head. "We're cousins. Our mothers are sisters. Are you ready to go?"

Interesting... I always thought they were just close friends. It never occurred to me that they were related.

"Yeah, thanks for the tour."

He turns the corner and leads us to the landing of the double-sided staircase. We descend hand in hand back to the foyer and out the entrance.

The drive back is silent. The music playing drifts into the background. My thoughts are on what I've seen and all that has been said. I can't help but wonder if this whole interaction has anything to do with my stupid wish and that strange book.

"I'm not racist if that's what you're thinking. However, I would be lying to you if I said I don't engage in discriminatory practices," he shrugs.

I don't know how to dignify what he's said with a response so I remain silent and enjoy the ride back. Maybe I should just forget about Brice. He was much easier to pine over when we didn't talk, when I didn't know what he thought or felt about certain things.

You mean when you didn't know him.

We return to the school gates and Brice greets Mr Mbuyi before driving through. "Where do you want me to drop you off?"

"Uhm, the Hadeda dorms. I forgot something in my room."

We head over to my residence and I jump out before he can attempt to be chivalrous and open my door. I walk to the back to retrieve my bag which is where we meet. Of course he gets out and hand it to me.

"Thanks for breakfast and don't forget to send me your timetable so we can set up those sessions. Use my school mail."

"Yeah, I'll be sure to do that." He's looking at my lips and as much as I want to give in and kiss him, I turn around and rush off.

I didn't get the chance to ask about his relationship with Hailey. It completely slipped my mind until we got back to school – back to reality. I cannot have people calling me a slag. If he's serious about this tutoring business he'll reach out to me, but right now I need to put some distance between us and gather my thoughts.

I manage to get through the rest of the day without incident. Thank goodness there are no classes we share today. When the day is over, I cant wait to talk to Charlondra. I want to strangle her for throwing me under the bus like that.

I meet her in the dining hall for dinner at our usual spot joined by a few girls we're friendly with from the Swallows and Stolk Res.

"You!" I drop my tray of spaghetti Bologna and reach for the Parmesan cheese and garlic that has been set on the table along with other condiments.

"Oh oh. That doesn't sound good. How'd it go? It couldn't have been that bad."

I sigh, "It wasn't actually. It was kind of nice. Sort of..."

"The sick bay was nice?"

"We didn't go to the sick bay. He took me to his house, I mean manor or club."

"What? He stays in Milton Village?"

"The house is between the village and the school. Its massive and exclusive. He surprised me."

"And I'm guessing the surprise wasn't a pleasant one?"

"Well sort of." I breathe out trying to collect my thoughts knowing I'm not making much sense. "He asked me out in the library then offered to pay me to tutor him over breakfast"

"That actually sounds like a good morning unless he's not paying well," Char comments, twirling a forkful of spaghetti between her fork and spoon.

"$1500."

"Nice."

"Per week."

"Shut up." Her hands still, frozen in motion.

"I know, right! But he was giving me all these mixed signals."

"What do you mean?" her hands are back in operation forking another mouthful.

"One minute he looks like he wants to devour me and the next he's telling me about his racist family from France."

"What? I consider Brice Le Roux many things, but a racist wouldn't be one of them."

Even me girl, even me.

"It doesn't matter. It's complicated and I still don't know what his relationship status is. Or what's going on between him and Hailey. We saw them hanging out together this past weekend."

Char rolls her eyes clearly losing patience. I proceed to catch her up on any of the other juicy details I missed out on. When Brice, Hidde, and their crew roll up I feel his eyes on me. We stare at each other for a tense moment before I look away and change topics.

I feel his eyes land on me every so often until we get up and leave the hall.

We part ways along the path back to our individual dorms. I flop on my bed in exhaustion once I'm back to my room. After a quick shower and change, I check my email before calling it a night. I see one from Brice.

Good Evening, Soleil,

Find attached my timetable.

I want to see you tomorrow for our first lesson in Math.

I compare our schedules working out my free periods before emailing him back on the times for tomorrow and confirmation on the days to follow regarding the other two subjects.

He's quick to respond.

Looks good to me. Send me your number.

I decide not to for now. Not until I can confirm that he is single. Emails are far more professional anyway because that's what he's paying for right?

He was at the fair with another girl this past weekend. Thousands more follow him on IG. If he's a player, I don't want to be a part of his games.

Just a couple of observations I've made since posting this chapter:

1) People are conflating ethnicity and nationality, and I'll chalk this up to how Brice expressed himself (how I wrote this).

You can be black French or white South African. However, France was originally settled by the Franks and South Africa has over a dozen different African tribes such as the Zulu and Khoi/San that settled in the region before it was colonized by Europeans.

Yes, he is meant to come across as "racist" from Soleil's POV and he gets that, but is not going to change the policies of a club that's been in his family for generations. He's 18 and by no means a "social justice warrior". He's been brought up in a world of privilege and lives in a different world (more on this later).

2) Why the hell would Soleil want to join a club she knows NOTHING about?!

She was just touched at being told she doesn't meet the criteria which is how most people would react. This is how I've written her character. She wants things without really understanding what it is she's asking for. She wished for Brice to notice her and now she's got him along with all his idiosyncrasies.

The conversation should have been moot on finding out it's a BOYS ONLY club. But she's black, and black people can be sensitive about being excluded out of spaces.

I'm simply trying to highlight the perils we all deal with in an ever converging global society and IR relationships. There will be a clash of culture and tradition.

Anyway, there's a running theme of appearance v reality in this book. Watch out for the red-herrings! They are clarified in mirror scenes as the story progresses. Moreover, this story is written in first person POV so you get to know how Brice and Soleil think which is subjective not objective.

Thanks for your comments. I welcome your unfiltered thoughts as you follow this perilous love story. Happy reading!