Free The Yellow Eyes of Crocodiles by Katherine Pancol Page A

pack. Yellow Gitanes, she noticed; he must have seen them in some old movie.
    “Hey! Don’t call him that!”
    “Okay, I got it. You’re in a bad mood. I’ll shut up.”
    She shrugged and put the coffee against her cheek. They stood silently for a minute, not looking at each other, sipping their coffee. Then Chaval moved closer, lightly bumping Josiane’s hip. She didn’t resist, so he leaned close to her neck.
    “Mmmmm. You smell good, like fancy soap. I’d like to lay you down and slowly breathe you in.”
    She moved away, sighing.
    Ever since he’d gotten into her pants, Chaval had been acting like he owned her. Josiane had promised to talk to Marcel about a promotion, and he was writhing with impatience. He’d taken to pestering her about it everywhere—in the hallways, the warehouse, the elevators.
    He wanted to ask her again about it, but could tell that this was a bad time. “Come on, babe. Truce?”
    He put his hand on her hip and pulled her toward him.
    “Stop it! Someone’ll see us.”
    “Oh, come on. They’ll just say we’re good friends having some fun.”
    “No, I’m telling you. He’s in the office with the Toothpick. If he comes out and sees us, I’m history.”
    For all I know, I’m already history
, Josiane thought.
    “You do love me a little, don’t you?” she asked in a pleading voice.
    “You know I do, babe. How can you doubt it? Wait and see and I’ll prove it to you.”
    He slipped his hand under her ass and squeezed.
    “But what if the promotion doesn’t come through, for some reason? What if you don’t get it? Will you stay with me?”
    “What are you talking about? Did he say something? Tell me.”
    “No, it’s just that I feel scared all of a sudden.”
    Chaval stroked her hair absentmindedly. In his arms, Josiane felt like an awkward package he couldn’t easily put down.
    “C’mon, Josiane, pull yourself together! Now they really
are
going to notice us. You’re going to screw this whole thing up.”
    Josiane stumbled away from him, her eyes red from crying. She wiped her nose and apologized, but it was too late.
    Henriette and Marcel Grobz were by the elevator, silently staring at them. Henriette with her pinched lips and face all scrunched up under her big hat. Marcel soft and slumped, his cheeks trembling with sadness.
    Henriette was the first to look away. Then she grabbed her husband by the sleeve and pulled him into the elevator. Once the doors were closed, she joyously crowed, “See, what did I tell you? That girl is a slut! When I think of the way she spoke to me! And you’re always taking her side. Poor Marcel, you can be so blind sometimes.”
    Eyes downcast, Marcel was counting the cigarette burns in the elevator floor carpet and struggling to hold back his tears.

    The envelope bore a brightly colored stamp and was addressed to “Hortense and Zoé Cortès.” Jo recognized Antoine’s handwriting. She set it unopened on the kitchen table amid her papers and books. Then she raised it to eye level, trying to see if it had photos in it, or perhaps a check. But she couldn’t tell. She’d have to wait for the girls to get back from school.
    Hortense spotted it first and grabbed it, but Zoé screamed, “Me too! Me too! I want the letter too!” Joséphine made them sit down and asked Hortense to read it out loud. Jo took Zoé in her lap, hugging her tightly. Hortense slit open the envelope with a knife. She pulled out six thin sheets of paper, opened them, and laid them on the kitchen table, smoothing them with the back of her hand. Then she began to read:
    My beautiful darlings,
    As you probably guessed from the stamp on the envelope, I’m in Kenya. Have been here for a month. I wanted to surprise you, which is why I only said I was going abroad. But I’m planning to have you visit me as soon as I’m completely settled. Maybe during your school break. I’ll talk to Mom about it.
    Kenya . . . Does that word mean anything to you? I live between