I am done with love

Je ne regrette rien

A/N: Well, as you were asking for more...

He knew that song. He just hadn't expected it to be in the repertoire of a young, French singer in New York City. This was Edith Piaf's: "Je ne regrette rien", her most famous song.

Why would a talented young woman, who knew the classics, go to New York, to sing in a small and cheap bar like that one? He didn't like Bob Roth and he was sure, that this man had done one of his usually not totally legal deals, to make her work in this dark hole.

After the first few chords, he waited for her to start singing. Her voice was trembling and reluctant, as she begun.
As if she was ashamed to sing in her own language. The barroom was darker now and he could make out some features of her face.
And her surreal looking, unnaturally shining eyes. They were watching him.

André tried to say something to him, but Gabriel just waved him off and took his half empty glass into his hand, to then walk towards the stage and stand right in front of it.

His friend gave him a puzzled look, but then turned around shrugging, to hit on two women around thirty, who had just taken the stools next to them.

The designer stopped right in front of the barely more than a step high stage. Damn it, the stairs in front of his home were bigger than this so called stage.

Nathalie's singing was getting quieter, now that she saw him looking at only her. But then their eyes met and he showed her something, only few people had seen over the last years. His genuine smile. And he bent his head just a little, to signalize her, she was doing fine.

Feeling oddly attracted to this stranger, the young woman took a deep breath and while keeping their eyes connected, she suddenly felt the confidence she needed to sing that particular song with the crucial passion.

When the song was over, the people in the guest room not even noticing, what incredible performance she had just done, Gabriel closed the remaining space between him and the stage and said:

"That was wonderful, Miss. But I must tell you, that you are wasting your talent here. You should be filling theaters and music halls, parks and stadiums, instead of hiding in a small, dubious pub like that!"

She gave him a contemptuous look and replied wearily:

"Well Sir, some of us weren't left with many choices!"

He narrowed his eyes, as he watched her closely.

"Please don't", she whispered. "I love to sing for others, but I don't like being looked at. I made an exception for you just a minute ago, and I don't even know why, but please....I won't get paid, if I don't do a certain amount of songs. And I can only sing, as long as there are still guests. Otherwise we close early, and the evening was a waste of time and effort."

She turned around with blushing cheeks and prepared her sheets for the next song.

"How many songs do you have left to sing, to get paid tonight?"

Nathalie turned back towards him. She sighed.

"Twenty!", she told him. "It would only be nineteen, but wishes from the audience don't count!"

She was about to turn her back to him again, when he proposed:

"If I promise to stay and listen to all those twenty songs, would you join me for one drink afterwards?"

"Why?", she now asked suspiciously. "Because you pity me, or because you want to fuck me, or maybe both?", she spat.

Gabriel couldn't help but laugh loudly about that sassy reply.

"Neither my dear, neither. I would just like to hear your story. You did something with your voice, I didn't even think was still possible. But I would like to tell you about that over a drink. Or maybe some food. You look as if you haven't eaten a lot lately", he suggested.

Nathalie still didn't know, if she should trust him, but he was right. Getting paid irregularly made it difficult to have enough money for food every day.

"You will stay until I'm finished with all songs?"

He nodded.

"Even longer, if that would mean you get paid extra!"

She sadly shook her head. But then she gave him a hesitant smile.

"Okay. I take you at your word."

Gabriel smiled at her and nodded, then went back to his seat.

"G-Gab-iel!!!", the the mayor exclaimed as he saw him. Obviously he had been drinking a lot by now. "Those be-you-tiful women want to take us to a more suitable es-estabish-ment. What do you say?"

The designer gave him a disapproving glance, then muttered:

"Yeah, whatever, have fun. I'm going to stay here!"

André frowned.

"Why's that? Because of the screw-up there, on that stage? Good luck, don't catch anything, if you..."

Gabriel's fist had punched his friend right in the middle of his face. His nose was bleeding and he was about to yell at him, when the greyish-blond haired man said:

"You know that you deserved that one, André, and now leave, before I do it again."

Whining loudly, the injured man left the bar, both women supporting him by holding one arm.

Gabriel sighed and shook his aching hand. He turned to ask the barkeeper for some ice, when he looked at Nathalie, who already brought him some, wrapped into a cloth.

"Did you really just hit the Mayor of Paris?", she asked him with a shocked expression.

Gabriel just shrugged and said with a sheepish smile:

"Well.....uhm...he had it coming. Je ne regrette rien!"

She stared at him.

"Why would you do that? It looked as if you were friends", Nathalie inquired, while she carefully took his hand into her own and placed the ice pack on his knuckles.

"I....", he inhaled deeply, "I didn't like, what he said!"

Now the young woman scoffed.

"Believe me, I've been called worse!"

"You heard him?", Gabriel wondered with raised eyebrows.

She nodded and shrugged.

"Yeah, but I don't understand, why you care!"