Paris Changes Everything

Chapter Four
Cinderella's Shoe

          Once inside Le Cave, Trish pushed her way past the dimly lit tables and dance floor, leaving her friends Lucy and Isablelle to claim a table for them, while she plowed her way through the crowd and toward the bar. 

            Now that she was on terra firma, or at least on a level wooden floor, Trish felt a bit more confident.  Plus, she had her trusty Nikon with her and that always made her feel happy, even powerful.

        And so, she did her best to get the attention of the bartender.  She leaned forward stretching her long torso over the width of the bar.  She was so close to a bottle of wine and some glasses, she could practically reach over and pour the wine by herself.  She waved to the bartender at the other end of the old-fashioned zinc counter and called out excusez moi, Monsieur!  A couple of guys looked at her, but why?  She was speaking French and she didn’t make the grave error of calling him garçon or “boy.”  She’d read enough travel guides to know not to do that.  Maybe they were just jealous that she was a confident American woman who knew how to get what she wanted.  And with this thought, Trish decided to just reach over and grab a bottle.  She was going to pay for it, of course, she just thought, this would help the bartender out.  After all, he was obviously too busy.  Maybe they’ll even give her a part time job here, she thought.  After all, they could use some extra help. 

            And that’s when it happened.  Somehow, she reached a little too far and while she was able to grab the bottle of white, she couldn’t seem to find her footing back down to the floor and for an embarrassing moment, she just kind of hung there over the bar, with her feet dangling.  And then, her left shoe fell off with a loud clunk somewhere behind her on the floor. 

            “Damn,” she whispered, her face turning red.

            “I am thinking I have your shoe, Madamoiselle,” 

            Trish turned around to find the actor Clive Owen standing behind her with her shoe in his hand.  Okay, it wasn't actually Clive Owen, but he could have been Clive Owen's twin brother.  

For a moment, Trish was lost in a confusion of thoughts.  This guy was so handsome, it made her dizzy.  What had he said to her?  I am thinking I have your shoe?  And then, the realization dawned on her.  

He indeed had her shoe!           

         He stood behind her, with this index finger hooked inside the back of her pink sparkly pink platform pump and smiled at her, with a sly look of triumph, as if he had just moved his chess piece forward and wondered how she planned to protect her queen from this unexpected turn of events!

And so the games began.

To be continued....

P.S.  I would like to give Lucy (the shy friend with the boyfriend in America) an interesting complication...any suggestions?

           

Paris Changes Everything

Chapter Two

"Lucy," Trish said, grabbing her arm, "we absolutely cannot let you spend your entire year in Paris moping over your old boyfriend!"

Lucy just sighed, and allowed herself to be led away from the photography class in the Tuileries, past the Louvre and onto the rue de Rivoli.  "He's not my old boyfriend!" she insisted.  "I love Peter."

Isabelle linked arms with Lucy.  "You should at least enjoy yourself while you're here," she added.  "Even a little flirtation might make you feel better."

"And we're going out dancing tonight!" Trish said, laughing.  "You have to have some fun!"

"Lucy," Isabelle added.  "You know you can't spend every night sitting alone in the apartment,"

"Oh yes, I can.  My heart belongs to Peter."

Trish rolled her eyes and gave Isabelle a look as if their friend was a hopeless case and a very foolish girl indeed.

But the truth is, Lucy loved Peter.
Originally they were supposed to travel to Paris together, but then he was accepted into Columbia Ph.D. program in geology and suddenly, he couldn't go anywhere.  He had to stay in New York and work.  This left Lucy heartbroken, but at least she had her good friends, Isabelle and Trish.  And she had her camera.

Her Rolleiflex camera was always a trusty friend.  Her grandfather had given it to her when she first became interested in photography.  It was a vintage twin reflex camera and it always brought her good luck.  In fact, the pictures she took with her Rolleiflex got her into the program in Paris in the first place.  She did bring her digital Nikon too, but in truth, Lucy was a very old-fashioned girl and preferred old film cameras, as well as vintage dresses and antique jewelry.  In fact, she even owned a Smith Corona manual typewriter.  But no, she didn't bring that to Paris with her--too heavy!

Even when she was a little girl, Lucy loved taking pictures.  Her grandpa loaned her one of his smaller cameras and she found that his pet bird, Mrs. Vanilla Bean proved to be an extraordinarily good model.  The bird loved posing and preening for the camera and would often squawk, "pretty picture!"

And now, somehow, as she looked up at the Paris skyline, she realized that this memory made Lucy feel terribly homesick and miss Peter even more, but she would not admit this to Isabelle and Trish.  They seemed so cool and sophisticated and perfectly happy to be so far from home.  Still, even after almost a month here, Lucy felt as if she was living in a fog.

And now, the three girls crossed over from rue de Rivoli to the Pont des Arts.  The Arts Bridge.  There were all sorts of little locks on the railing

and Isabelle, who had been to France many times before, explained how French lovers, initial the locks with their names in magic marker and vow their undying love to one another, before throwing the key into the Seine.

"How corny!" Trish groaned.
"I think it's lovely," Isabelle sighed.
"I do too," Lucy said, thinking, she would stay true to Peter and keep her heart, locked up and safe, no matter how much Trish and Isabelle tried to convince her to find a new romance...
...or how much Paris, the City of Lights tried to tempt her with all its seductive charm.

To be continued.