Odette Duplessis

That evening at the Apollo Club, Odet Duplessis was on the lookout for his ex. He could feel him on his skin. Finishing his whiskey, the singer sent a message, even though he knew there would be no reply: “Where did you go when I needed you so much? What should I do? Who are you in love with again? Muse, do you hear me? Come back, I’ll forgive you everything. I’ll learn a couple of new chords.”

He headed toward the bar and saw HIM in the mirrored column. The ex was sitting with a blond guy, his head cocked coquettishly. Odette rushed toward them.

“Hello,” he breathed out.
"Oh, Odet. Are you here? We're just chatting with a friend," the guy drawled lazily.
— I see. We need to talk. Now.

Muse chuckled. Odet grabbed his wrist in a death grip.

— Let go!
“No,” Odet’s voice cut through the music. “I said, come back to me.”

He yanked the ex-boyfriend toward him, forcing him to stand up. The guy pressed his weight against his chest:

— Let go! Are you crazy? Get lost!
"Don't break away," Odet leaned down to his face. "Don't tell me no. Don't you dare. There's no point in running around in circles. You understand that yourself. We were made for each other."

The guy froze for a second, but then laughed, returning to his mask of indifference:

— Made? Odet, you write songs. And I just listen to them. That doesn't make us a couple.

He wrenched his hand free, grabbed the blond, and dragged him toward the exit. But at the threshold, he turned around. Just for a moment. His gaze slid over the singer, who stood alone in the middle of the dance floor.