Before Ever After by Samantha Sotto

something cold. She pulled it out. Louis XVI turned his gold double chin up at her. She poured more of the gold coins into her palm. “Are these real, Max?”
    “Of course, luv. You can pass it around so the others can have a closer look,” he said.
    “This is no small change, Max,” Simon said. “Why on earth are you carrying this around with you?”
    Max shrugged. “Pocket money.”
    “Seriously, Max,” Jonathan said, “whatever is all this gold for?”
    “A bribe, or at least it was intended to be one.”
    “Okay, I’ll bite,” Dex said. “And what exactly was this bribe for?”
    “Patience, mate, patience. You Americans are always in a rush.”
    “I’m guessing you’ll keep us in suspense until we get to our next mystery stop, then?” Shelley asked.
    “Does my lady protest?” Max touched her chin lightly with his fingers, grazing her lower lip with his thumb.
    A current ran from Shelley’s lip to her crotch. “Not … not at all. By all means, lead the way, good sir.”
    “But first a slight detour,” Max said. “Our morning’s adventure has made me rather thirsty.”
    The group stood on the stone bank of the Seine. Shelley watched the wide brown river ripple in the wake of a bateau-mouche. Tourists waved at her from the boat’s glass-covered deck.
    “So, who else is up for a drink?” Max asked.
    “Max, you disappoint me,” Shelley said. “Are you telling us we’ll be joining one of those river cruises that come with free lunches? That hardly qualifies as off-the-beaten-path in my book.”
    “I agree, but this might.” Max shielded his eyes from the glare of the sun bouncing off the river. “Here’s our ride.”
    The name
Isabelle
was painted on the side of the red barge. Shelley wondered if it was a coincidence.
    “Quick!” Dex grabbed her by the shoulders and angled her in front of the approaching barge. He raised his camera. “Say ‘cheese.’ ”
    “Er, cheese.” Shelley knitted her brow. “Dex, don’t you want to be in the picture? I can take your photo if you’d …” Bright green billowed at the corner of Shelley’s eye. She turned in its direction.
    The emerald sundress blew in the wind, clinging to the tall fiery-haired woman who emerged on the barge’s deck.
    “Miren!” Max waved at her.
    Miren waved back as the barge came to a stop beside the embankment. Max led the group aboard. He gathered Miren in a tight embrace and lifted her in the air. Miren laughed and ran her fingers over Max’s smile. Her years creased at the sides of her green eyes but did not diminish her beauty.
    Shelley bit her lip and considered reporting a certain wayward member to the Poultry Club of Great Britain.
    Max set Miren back on her feet. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet the owner of this fine boat, Ms. Miren O’Loughlin, the finest Irish lass on French waters.” He held Miren’s hand as he walked over to the group.
    “Welcome aboard the
Isabelle
, floating pub by night and my humble abode by day,” Miren said.
    The group introduced themselves and Max guided Miren’s hand to shake everyone else’s. Shelley realized that Miren was blind.
    Miren ushered the group to a hatch leading belowdecks. A bulky, stern-looking man nodded hello from the helm then quickly turned his attention back to steering the barge.
    “That’s Paul-Henri, the
Isabelle
’s captain,” Miren said. “He’s fairly new here and still painfully shy, I’m afraid.”
    Shelley followed Miren down the steps and through a narrow corridor. Miren opened a red door. If not for the portholes that ran along the length of its dark oak walls, Shelley could have sworn that she had strolled into her neighborhood pub. All that was missing was Charlie, her favorite bartender. She could have used a pint’s worth of his time to rant aboutthe stunning copper-haired woman whose arm was still linked with Max’s.
    The group gathered around the bar. Shelley hopped on a stool. She looked hopefully at the stool next to