Bon Chance, Mssr Smith

Bon Chance, Mssr Smith

A Story by Dave "Doc" Rogers

I received a writing prompt, then this story idea hit me. Enjoy. Let me know if it takes you there.

She was a friend of a friend. We met at a gallery showing. Our conversation was pleasant. I had not been out in quite some time; nor in the presence of a lady so charming in a longer time. I insisted we have dinner. It was late, but she acquiesced. I smiled and dialed a favored haunt. With a bit of a french accent, the manager on the phone agreed to hold a table for two. She looked at me and asked, "Is it just that easy? At this hour?" I answered, "Yes. Shall we?" I extended my arm. She laid her hand gently on my forearm. In moments we were in a car heading for a late dinner.

The conversation proved to be as enjoyable as the pressed duck and '06 Volnay-Santenots. As I was about to respond to my companion's latest anecdote, my shoulder was rudely bumped by a patron as she passed. She had dropped her handkerchief. "Pardon, madam," I called to her. She paused for a moment. "You seemed to have dropped your kerchief."

"So I did," she replied. The slur in her speech made it obvious she had perhaps too much to drink. She swayed in her steps as she approached my table. She took the kerchief with both hands, grabbing mine in the process. I felt something press into my palm as she made a flourish of taking the kerchief with her other hand. "Danke. I think. Right?"

"Sure," I replied. Discreetly, I palmed the item. I looked my date in the eyes, smiled, and shrugged. I saw it was a small folded piece of paper in my hand. I managed to open the note without my companion's attention. It simply read: "Get out while you still can."

Well. It seems I have friends. I knew it was only a matter of time before old acquaintances would find me. I owed them. I owed them big. It is nice to have friends from the company who still look out for me. Discreetly I reached into my coat, opened my wallet, pulled out more money than was needed, and wedged it under the plate. I looked up. My date stared at me with curiosity. I smiled. "Time to leave."

She started to say something. I pushed my chair back and went to her side. I pulled out her chair and guided us to the door. It was a bit of trade craft to check every reflective surface while looking nonchalant. We made it to the door without incident. I reached for the handle as it swung open.

"Güten naben, Herr Schmidt. Leaving so soon." Not soon enough. I smiled. My companion leaned in close to me. I felt the distinct impression of a small caliber muzzle push into my ribs. She looked up to my face and smiled. At least the conversation was nice.

The manager walked over. "Bon nuit, monsieur. Bon chance, non?" "Ouí," I responded. There was a flurry of motion that outwardly looked like someone had stumbled. My date appeared to have fainted. My interloping greeters at the door stumbled backwards and were left sitting against the wall of the building with very attentive staff appearing to politely revive them. It was mere minutes before a private ambulance arrived to give medical assistance. Everyone was loaded into the ambulance and carried away. I was left standing there with the manager.

"Bon chance, monsieur Smith."

"Louis, perhaps I should not visit until the seasons change."

"A very good choice, monsieur Smith. A very good choice."

I adjusted my collar and cuffs. It seemed the air had gotten a lot chillier than when I first arrived.

© 2016 Dave "Doc" Rogers

Author's Note

Dave "Doc" Rogers
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Added on November 25, 2016
Last Updated on November 25, 2016
Tags: bon chance, chance, dave, dave doc rogers, davedocrogers, doc, Doc Rogers Writes, Europe, intrigue, mystery, rogers, writer, Writer's Circle, writing prompts


Dave "Doc" Rogers
Dave "Doc" Rogers

Montgomery, AL

Artist • Author • Poet • Preacher I am a thinker, ponderer, assayer of thoughts. I have had a penchant for writing since childhood. I prefer "Doc" as an hommage to my grandfather Rob.. more..