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josephine renee deveroux
“Now come on Doc, we both know what’s gonna happen,” the French girl purred, wrapping a chestnut colored wave around one finger as she leaned forward, low cut shirt not exactly hiding much. But she knew how to use what she had, she always had since she was little. It was just something about her…and the accent didn’t much help. She would flirt and pout and tease, all to get her way.
”No, Josephine, for once you’re not going to weasel out of it.” he told her sternly pulling himself together. He had gotten roped into these sessions by her aunt who didn’t know what to do with the twenty-three year old anymore. But she always managed to weasel her way out of it with a pout. Not this time.
The pout of course then turned sour. “FiFi. Fee. Pick one but don’t call me Josephine,” the young French woman said sourly. The doctor just stared at her, arching a brow, the question hanging in the air until she sighed, leaning back and dropping her hand to her lap, letting the wave fall back into place. “Fine, I’ll start back in France then, shall I…?”
No vacancy baby. I want you to hate me, cuz no one can save me. We're starting a fight tonight
A sweet little baby girl was born to Charles and Sophia Deveroux on September thirtieth twenty three years ago. She was a sweet child, always quiet and good, never giving her parents too much trouble. It made them think that they would get off scot free, with such a good baby girl. Never a peep. Her parents doted on her, always gave her the attention and she happily ate it up, such a good baby girl. They named her Josephine, and perhaps they spoiled her a little but that was because she was their only. They could have no more after her due to complications so why not shower a little bit of extra attention on her?
Oh they would regret it.
Not right away of course. The sweet little girl never showed any signs of the spoiling going to her head right away. She just began to expect the extra attention and she would be slightly confused if she didn’t get it. Her mother was the first to notice it, murmuring to whispers in Charles, telling him they shouldn’t give her just everything she expected, she would be going to school soon and it wouldn’t be right, would it? She shouldn’t think she should get everything if she were to go to school and then act like that in class, for all her sweet demeanor…
So they started to wean her off the attention, and she pouted about it, so her Papa always would give in. All it took was a begging look, eyes going wide. And she was in. She adored it, she knew just what to do and she learned very early how a pout could get her what she wanted. Her mother had a job that always had her out of the house anyway, so how could she know? She couldn’t. That was that. She was too busy off with her fancy business suits, traveling to Paris an hour away for her business and leaving her and Papa alone. Josephine didn’t much mind. Her Papa doted on her.
She wasn’t a tease, not then. She was just a sweet little girl who was used to what she was used to. She went to school and things began to change though. She was just another little girl there and in a way that was calming for her. She liked that in a weird sort of way, but in the back of her head it was always a little strange.
When she hit the tender age of nine her father got a better job. Now, not only was her mother always gone, so was her Papa. The neighbor kept an eye on her but she was often on her own and she hated it. She began to stay longer at school if she could, lingering with people and staying out as late as a nine year old could manage. She was trying to get her parent’s attention, make them realize she needed them not to be gone all the time, she wanted them to be there for her but that didn’t work out well being that she was always home before them and the neighbor was always distracted enough with her own things.
It was at twelve that she learned another use for the pout. Girls started to stop having cooties and started to be pretty to boys at that stage after all. She could get all the attention she liked if she spoke a certain way, laughed a certain way. And she knew it. A small pout and boys wanted to get things for her. It was so funny it made her so amused, she became a bit of a tease, not that she knew it at the age of twelve, who knows these things that young?
She had a whole gaggle of boys at the age of thirteen. She decided that she was old enough not to do any of her work for school. If she had thought of it at the age of thirteen, she probably would have forgotten to come home from school too. Fiona did what she pleased and she was happy to, and her parents started to notice, and not approve. She was always off with boys after all. Girls she couldn’t stand. And they couldn’t stand her right back.
Thirteen and one night she comes in a little bit too late. And her Mama comes in a bit too early.
”I will not have my daughter being some…some…floozy!” the words stung and Josephine shook her head. She wasn’t a floozy. No one ever touched her, oh no. She kept that to herself thank you. Tease she may be but she did it for the attention. She wasn’t interested in that sort of thing! Thank you very much. She didn’t want to talk to her mother, she tried to leave. But soon it escalated to this huge fight…
And then as she turned to storm out her mother’s weak heart had…a weak moment. It was more of a murmur than a heart attack but Josephine knew she had caused it. And her mother who had once doted on her refused to even speak to her, refused to look at her. She was just a floozy. Finally she couldn’t take it anymore. She started to yell at her mother once more and her father came in.
”Josephine!” he said, shocked at her. And the tone he said it still stings, stings enough that no one can call her Josephine anymore. Oh no. He sent her off to live with her aunt in America that day, she couldn’t stay there anymore. She was too much trouble and maybe living with her aunt would straighten her out.
But I remember where it began Left behind me Sometimes it reminds me of when we, we used to belong here
The pain was shielded in her eyes by her eyelashes, carefully looking down at her hands with a frown barely playing on the edges of her lips. Always a teasing and careful girl, she kept the pain hidden. Always. She was good at that. But he had known her for a few months now, long enough to pick up on her little habits.
“Fee?” he gently said, giving in to what she wished to be called in the hope of luring her back out of her shell. Perhaps getting a little bit more out of this session. She didn’t speak again, simply crossed her legs and trained her gaze to the window for a moment before smiling like she had a secret. Obviously the next part was a better part for her. She spoke again…
She started over. Staying home the first few summer months for nights on end to have her aunt improve the English she had started to learn at school, polishing the basic and stilted bits that she knew from years of school until the only thing that was all that French was her accent. She still screwed up from time to time but it was enough, enough to start eighth grade in the fall along with everyone else.
And then, oh then, she was exotic with her French accent, her full lips… She held attention wherever she went and oh to get noticed for all the right things rather than being watched warily by her aunt back home or glared at by her parents back home. It was wonderful and she realized that she could so easily start over. She was in a new country, no one knew her here. She became known as Fifi, the girl with all the confidence and the accent to die for.
Well, sometimes people just had to fall back on their old tricks.
One thing didn’t change with her though. She always teased. She always pouted to get her attention, she would happily walk with that confidence that she knew people were looking at her…but she never gave it up. That was what made her the perfect tease. She knew how to keep it to herself. High school was a wonderful time for her. Though the girls began to spread rumors, calling her names…she didn’t care. She always did hate girls. They were jealous and she couldn’t care less.
They just didn’t like that she could capture attention so easily. She had been practicing for so much longer.
Eventually, at the well rounded age of fifteen, her philosophy changed. She gave it up to a particular boy who always showered with her attention. He was older than her but who really cared? She found she enjoyed the way it let her let go…
Truth or dare, yes I double dare you You, you, me, now I think you got it One last breath and just spin the bottle now
“What Doc, not gonna tell me all about how I started to use it as a coping mechanism?” she asked, a smile dancing in her eyes and a tease lingering in her words. Always like that. She leaned back, pleased with herself despite the fact that it hurt to be accused of that. She knew she did. It let her stop thinking for a minute. And she enjoyed the power that she had when she was teasing boys, leading them behind her like play things. It meant she was in charge, she could send them away, they couldn’t send her away. Not like her father.
He shook his head. ”I’m not going to say anything, Fee. This is your story” he said, nodding to encourage her to keep speaking. It was hard to get her to speak about her past all in one burst. He was not going to interrupt. He would keep taking notes and let her go on.
She leaned back, uncrossing her legs and then switching the way that they lay, the leg that was on the bottom now on top. Her fingers twitched restlessly on her leg but she forced it not to go up and play with her hair once more.
I settled down a twisted up frown Disguised as a smile, well You would have never known
The later years of high school were better in some ways, and worse in others. The rumors from the girls got worse, the attention from the boys got more as she learned how to dress, the right things to say to tease and not give it all away again, balancing her new dynamic. It made her happy to forget her life for those small hours.
And not go home at night unless she had to.
Though she gave extra attention to a certain male with a very familiar accent to her own. She simply could not help herself and she was very amused by this. Of course she teased, she played. She enjoyed the attention, she enjoyed the familiar accent that she herself possessed. But she was amused not to do anything about it more than that. She never bothered to go out of her way for these things. Things went the way things tended to go for her and she moved on, or at least she pretended to. She moved on, and went about her own games, teasing and playing. As always. She was a teenager. She moved on to her new love soon enough and got hurt again when she got turned away eventually, it happened. Every heart break felt huge even for someone who tried not to get too invested each time, but she bounced back. She always did.
And each time, she found her attention going right back to the boy with the similar accent. Something about the comforts of home? Or maybe it was the fact that he could keep up with her.
She graduated high school by the skin of her teeth considering how little she did any of her work and how often she decided she was cutting.
And as soon as she hit eighteen she was so out the door.
There's no yellow bricks to follow back and run from that disaster Familiar sins come crashing in And sever forever and after
“The rest you know. I left as soon as I could at eighteen, my Aunt helped send me here to California to get me out of her hair, and my parents sent me money from time to time to help me get started. Got a job as a maid cause it was the only thing I could find and…my aunt turned out to be your old friend and she begged you to keep an eye on me” she said, rolling her eyes but the familiar smirk was back and playing. She had gotten through that. That wasn’t so hard was it. And then her eyes strayed up to the clock. It was funny how easy it was to get through when she skewed the telling her way. Or when she skimmed over the rumors she had heard about herself in high school, or skipped quickly over her own parents getting rid of her. Easy. Right. “And then I got the second job as the bartender, to make ends meet and all, and cause I enjoy it”, she said, with a grin.
“Still obsessively keeping things neat?”
She shrugged, easily twirling another curl around her finger and tugging lightly. “Why? Gonna tell me it’s my obsessive quest to keep things under my control?” She grinned, she enjoyed ‘doing his job for him.’ But hey, the time was up, and she was free. He could tell her more things she already knew next time.
luna ● 25 ● est