You Get What You Deserve

OBITUARY: Jason Badier, 51, of Paris, France, ended his life on Thursday, April, 22, 2021.

Born to Carole and Benjamin Badier, on March 13, 1970, Jason held both French and American nationalities. After graduating from HEC Paris, he interned with Total in Houston, Texas, where he spent the entirety of his career. Having been recently promoted to COO of the global group, Jason had returned to his native France only two weeks prior to his death. 

He had the personality and natural charisma to make friends no matter the situation. A man of many stories, he left no one indifferent.

Despite his gregarious countenance, Jason suffered severe depression after his divorce five years ago. He is survived by his two sons, Steven, 23, and Carl, 21. Memorial services will be for family only and they ask that their privacy be respected at this difficult time. Donations can be made to your local suicide prevention hotline in his name. 

***

He almost couldn’t believe it. Finally, after all these years of hard work, political scheming, and sacrifice, he got the promotion he had deserved for so long, and was moving back to Paris. His wife Rose had walked out on him five years ago, to move in with her younger personal trainer. Sure, he had had some brief affairs here and there throughout their 20 year marriage, but it was different for men. He had never forgiven her and had stubbornly refused to move on. 

“Too bad for her,” he thought as he looked around at his new corporate apartment in the sixteenth arrondissement. “That bitch would have loved this swanky place. I’m gonna take some selfies to send the kids tomorrow, when the sun is up. I’m sure that once they see how nice it is here, they’ll be on the next plane to see me. And once Rosie realises that they’d rather be with me, she’ll beg to have me back. Her stupid boy-toy could never give her all this.” 

His official move-in date wasn’t until the next day, but he charmed the concierge with a small bouquet of flowers and she agreed to let him in early. He had loved the Haussmann-style building from his first visit. The entryway featured a colourful tiled floor and gilded light fixtures. A second set of glass doors opened to the stairway and elevator and just beyond, through another set of doors, he could see the interior courtyard with its stone sculpture and fountain. 

His recently refurbished, fifth-floor apartment had high ceilings and beautiful crown moulding which suited his royal opinion of himself. Although no longer serviceable for their original purpose, the three antique fireplaces scattered throughout the apartment lent a feeling of authenticity. He brought matches and had placed lit candles on the mantles and in the little hearths, creating an almost romantic ambiance. Looking around, he thought of how easy it was going to be to get laid in such a luxurious place.  

The large arched windows at the front of the apartment led out onto a small balcony, just wide enough to place a couple of small chairs side by side. The back bedroom had been converted to a home office and held a built-in, mahogany bookcase along with a spacious antique desk that he had recently purchased from one of Paris’s famed flea markets. It was the one element he had bought for himself because its bulk and design made him feel like the king he knew himself to be. The modern kitchen was already equipped and the bulk of his furniture would be delivered tomorrow for his designer to organise. This was his palace and his chance for a new start. Screw Rose and the kids. 

He decided to christen his new realm that evening on his own. The previous tenants had left two folding chairs in the cellar which he had brought up to the flat. With his purchase of a magnum of Ruinart blanc de blancs, his local wine merchant was more than happy to lend him a couple of glasses. Jason neglected to mention that he would be drinking on his own. 

The street he would now call home was relatively narrow and he could see almost directly into his neighbours’ flats across the way. As such, he decided that night to sit on his back balcony, just off the kitchen. This was actually his preferred spot. Though not as chic as the front, the back space was much more private. There was only one level above him and the entirety belonged to a foreign embassy, though he hadn’t bothered to pay attention as to which one it was. The embassy terrace extended beyond his balcony so he opened his kitchen door, pulled the two chairs out facing each other, and sat underneath the overhang. He left the candles indoors but had had the oversight to buy an LED lamp for the back space which he now hung on the railing beside his chair. It was cold still, so he wrapped himself up in the over-sized, long-sleeved fleece which his sons had given him for his fiftieth birthday. “Finally,” he muttered to himself. “Something useful from my kids.” 

Propping his feet up in the opposite chair, he popped the cork, surprised by the echo it created in the back courtyard, and poured himself a glass of bubbles. “I wonder if it’s always this quiet or if it’s just because of school holidays?” he thought as he looked around the courtyard at seemingly empty apartments with no lights on.

Settling back into his chair with just the light sound of the fountain below, he opened his book. A lover of history, Jason was particularly obsessed with World War II. He had started “Savage Continent” by Keith Lowe recently, and was devouring it with relish, oblivious to the distractions of the outside world. He had just paused to refill his glass for the fifth time, when he heard voices above. At first thinking nothing of it, he leaned back, savouring the voluptuous texture and fresh, mineral finish of his wine. 

Gradually, he came to his senses as he realised that the people above were speaking English. Having been fully immersed in French since his return from the States, he was surprised and his ears automatically tuned in.

***

“So your cousin enjoyed his trip to Mar-a-Lago?” asked the first voice, in a thick accent which Jason could only liken to Boris from Rocky and Bullwinkle. 

“Oh definitely,” replied the second voice in an unmistakable Aussie twang. “The weather was great and his kids just loved the beach. And their American hosts were so open and welcoming.”

“Yes, yes, that’s wonderful. Did he learn anything useful there?” Boris asked

“Absolutely. You know he’s a marine biologist so he loves everything under the sea,” responded the Twang cryptically. “He particularly loves the creatures of the deep.”

“Interesting,” said Boris. “So do I. I’d love to meet your cousin one day.”

***

Jason got the distinct sensation that he was not supposed to be hearing this conversation but thinking that it might at some point be useful to him, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He extended his arm just far enough to remain unseen and hit the ‘record’ button.

***

“I’m sure I can arrange that,” Twang said. “But he spent all his money on that beach vacation so he probably won’t be travelling for a while.”

“I’d be happy to send tickets and provide accommodation,” Boris offered.

“First-class?”

“Of course. But I must be certain that he can teach me something I don’t already know.”

“Don’t you worry about that, mate,” Twang replied. “He has all the latest research - some of those beasts can travel distances completely unseen that you would have never dreamed.”

***

Jason began to feel nervous. He could tell from the tension in the air and the tones in their voices that they were clearly speaking in code, probably about American military secrets, and he decided that he had already heard too much. He very carefully stood up to walk back into the kitchen but as he turned, his fleece caught the rail and knocked his LED lamp off. 

***

“I think someone is listening!” Twang said with alarm. “You said the building was clear!”

“Don’t worry,” Boris said, undisturbed. “My men will handle it.

***

Jason heard the sounds of running boots above him. In a panic, he tried in vain to wrangle himself from his winter garment. He had just managed to extract himself when the door to the service stairs opened. Jason hadn’t even realised until that point that those stairs joined his back balcony. He turned to flee but the agents were too fast. The last thing Jason saw was the statue in the stone fountain as he crashed into it.

***

Rose closed the paper in stunned disbelief. She didn’t buy it for a second. He had never been depressed after their split. He just wanted her back because he wanted to possess her. The only way that man could ever have committed suicide would have been to throw himself off his own ego. She would do everything in her power to console her children but in her deepest of hearts, she felt relief. That bastard finally got what he deserved.