Tales From a Broad

by Melange Books, LLC

  “Don’t mind the way I look. You’re rushing me.” I smiled sweetly.

  Tess looked at me with a critical eye. “Here,” she said, unclipping two silk flower pins from her backpack. “Put these on. Pick a shoulder. Just in case you run into someone you know.”

  “Okay, Donatella. Especially, since I know so many people in Paris.”

  Tess gave me an amused look and led me out the door. I pinned the flowers on the strap of my left shoulder as I followed her to the elevator. Once inside, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

  “Wow, you’re right,” I said with an approving tone. “That tank was shot. Not anymore. Maybe greige will be the new black.” I adjusted my bra straps and rolled my shoulders back. “You know, Tess, you have a real eye for fashion.”

  “Well, you better have a real eye to spy,” Tess hissed as the elevator stopped in the lobby. She gave me a quick peck on the cheek and jumped back to the other side of the elevator.

  The doors opened to the lobby. Tess went on her merry way and I followed behind, keeping a safe distance between us. I watched her greet a tall guy who must have been Pierre with a demure French double cheek kiss.

  He wore tan linen pants, a thin white sweater, and some sort of European looking sandal. I had never been a big fan of a guy who wore sandals, but on this guy, it worked. Tess had been accurate with her assessment. With a combination of sandy blond hair, high cheekbones, and full lips, he was absolutely gorgeous. On a scale of one to ten, he was a definite ten. And as a couple, they were well off the charts.

  Pierre may have gotten a check in the box from me for good looks, but that hadn’t been one of my concerns. I smiled to myself when he handed her a rose. Check. I was more than relieved to witness a sign of chivalry. Then, he helped her put on her sweater. Double check. After Pierre extended his arm to Tess, escort-style, I knew I’d seen enough.

  Tess casually looked over her shoulder at me with one eyebrow raised. I gave her two thumbs up, and she blew me a kiss in return. As I watched them disappear through the revolving doors, I felt like a mom who had just sent her daughter off to college. I wrote the checks, was all alone, and didn’t know what to do with myself.

  I moseyed over to the centerpiece of the lobby, a circular table with a spectacular floral arrangement. There were about a dozen three-foot hurricane vases that housed submerged cherry blossom branches and white tulips. I took a deep inhale through my nose and detected a faint, but pleasant, aroma.

  “Excuse me?” I heard a voice say.

  I turned my head to see a woman standing beside me with a camera in her hand.

  “Can you please take a picture of my family,” she asked. Behind her stood a man and two teenage girls.

  “Oh sure,” I said. She handed me the camera, and I stepped back, waiting for the foursome to position themselves in front of the table. She sandwiched herself between her two daughters and they all stood close with arms wrapped around one another. Her husband was at one end and she was on the other, yet his hand still managed to reach across and cup her shoulder.

  “Ready?” I looked into the camera and centered the photo against the floral backdrop. “Say fromage!”

  “Fromage!” they cried in unison, laughing.

  I handed back the woman’s camera. The family bid me a good night and as they walked off arm-in-arm. I wished they would adopt me for the night, or at least take me wherever it was they were going.

  I’d been content to hang in for the night, but now that I was in the hustle and bustle of the lobby, solitude was no longer looking so good. I meandered into the gift shop and picked up a newspaper. We’d been gone for almost a week, and I had no clue what was happening in the world. CNN hadn’t been a part of our daily activities.

  I flipped through the newspaper, but was distracted by the activity happening outside the window on the street. It was a lovely night, and the streets were packed. Happy faces filled the tables of a neighboring outdoor café. Families, couples, and friends strolled by, all looking as if they were on their way to do something spectacular.

  The grass was really starting to look much greener on the other side of the window. I reminded myself how happy I had been to be in my robe ten minutes earlier and that leisure once again awaited me upstairs. Somewhat reluctantly, I put down the paper and walked to the elevators trying to recapture my indulgent relaxed mood.

  But back in the room, my earlier feeling of contentment had dissipated. I picked up my phone and scrolled around to read the posts of my Facebook friends. Were their status updates as misleading as the one I had just written?

  Eiffel Tower and a bottle of wine.

  It sounded like I was living the life on the top of the tower. Little did they know the “Eiffel Tower” was really the name of the purse Carrie Bradshaw carried in the Sex and the City movie playing on the TV. As for the bottle of wine, Charlize had sent me away with the vineyard’s finest, and I was debating whether I should open it or wait for Tess to return. There was something pathetic about drinking alone in a hotel room. Especially when the room happened to be in one of the most romantic cities in the world.

  A knock on the door shook me out of my thoughts. “Hello?” I called out.

  “Room service,” said a voice on the other side.

  “I didn’t order anything,” I shouted. My ankle was throbbing again after my trip to the lobby, and I didn’t feel like hobbling over to answer the door, just to smell food I wish I’d ordered.

  “Room service. Can you please open the door?” The voice had an Indian accent with an impatient tone.

  I forced myself to get up and limped over to the door. I peered through the peephole and much to my surprise, I saw Simon standing there.

  I flung the door open and laughed. “I should’ve known it was you.”

  “Why?” Simon looked so innocent, despite the mischievous gleam in his eyes.

  “I think it’s safe to say that not one employee of this hotel sounds like they’re from Bollywood.”

  “Indian?” he cried. “You mean I didn’t sound like Gerard Depardieu?”

  “Hmph. Not so much.” I smiled and gave Simon the once over. He wore dark jeans and a buttoned-down shirt, and he smelled like sandalwood and citrus as he stood before me.

  “What are you up to?” With an eyebrow raised, I looked down and noticed he held a rather large shopping bag. A box of candy slipped from under his arm, and I reached out to catch it in midair.

  “Nice save. May I?” Simon peered over my shoulder into the room.

  “Oh, of course.” I stepped aside to let him enter.

  I watched him cross the room to set the bag down on the bed. I placed the candy box beside it. My mouth watered when I saw it was French nougat, my favorite after dinner treat from a bistro near my apartment. “What happened to your evening bike ride?”

  He cocked his head and gave me an odd look. “How did you...” A flicker of recognition registered on his face. “Ah. I had a feeling you read my notes in the guidebook.” A slow smile spread across his face.

  I cleared my throat. “I, um, the book fell open to that one page, but that’s all I saw.”

  Simon smiled and nodded slowly. “Well... I decided to pass. Today’s manual labor totally wiped me out.”

  “Oh, I hear you.” I tucked my hair behind my ears. The front and sides were still intact from this morning’s blowout, but the back was pure frizz from the powernap I had taken in the tub.

  As I touched the straight portion of my hair, I realized I was wearing ratty clothes and no makeup. I wished I had at least left Tess’s flowers pinned on to my tank. “Will you please excuse me for a moment? I’m going to use the bathroom.”

  “Sure, take your time. I’ll just be outside,” Simon said, pointing to the balcony.

  I disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door. I went over to the basin and gave myself a silent lecture while my brain screamed, “Lucy, get it together!” Why did I care so much? He was far too young for me.
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  I flushed the toilet and ran the water, using the sounds to disguise my freshening up process. I’d rather be dead than have him think I was primping for him. By the time I emerged, I found him leaning over the balcony railing.

  I approached him from behind, noting once again, with a little embarrassment, just how nice the back view was. “Please don’t tell me you came here to kill yourself.”

  “Well, that depends.” Simon turned around to face me, and I quickly looked up with a start. “Mark told me Tess had a date, so I thought you might like some company. Was I right?”

  I didn’t answer right away, struck by the sight of him. Standing on the balcony with the sun setting behind him, he definitely looked like a Mr. Right. Well, a younger version, anyway.

  “What did you have in mind?” I raised an eyebrow.

  “Why don’t you let me show you?” He took a step back into the room. My heart stopped as he walked towards the bed. He didn’t mean...? Really?

  My heart started to race again. Should I? How would that feel? How could I even be thinking this? Just as I was about to say something, Simon reached into the bag and pulled out a bottle of wine and two glasses.

  The clinking of glasses brought me back to reality. Of course, that wasn’t what he intended. Get a grip, Lucy. One day with Mother Nature, and I was losing it. The guy was just being nice. He probably has his pick of women back home. And they’re probably twentysomethings. He doesn’t like me. He’s probably just bored. What else would he have done tonight without Mark? Some people just don’t like to be alone.

  “Well, if you do want company, I brought these. The wine happens to be the fruit of our beloved vineyard. And if you’re not in the mood for company, at the very least you can use and abuse me.” Simon winked as he pulled out a roll of medical tape. Ah, that kind of using and abusing. The medical kind.

  “I can wrap your foot again and then you can throw the other glass at me. I even brought Moor mud for you to drown me in.” Simon held up a jar, and I noticed he had nicely groomed and squared off fingernails. My own cuticles hadn’t been pushed back since we left New York.

  I clasped my hands behind my back. “What the heck is Moor mud?”

  “It makes a good foot bath. So I’ve heard.”

  I let out a slow whistle. “How do you like that? A guy that knows more than me about foot spas.” I nodded with approval and forced the corners of my lips to go up, even though they were fighting their way down. Was he gay? More high maintenance than I was? A Cooper dressed in casual clothing? I dug my nails into the palms of my hands. Why did I even care?

  “Let’s not get carried away,” he said with a hand raised. “We use it for bee stings at the camp.”

  A giggle escaped me. He probably wasn’t gay or high maintenance. However, while I felt momentarily lifted, the mention of his job as a camp counselor reminded me just how young he was.

  He reached his hand back into the bag, oblivious to my reaction. “For snacks, I wasn’t sure if you were salty or sour, having seen a little of both out of you. So, I chose vinegar chips and chocolate covered pretzels.” Simon placed the snacks on the bed. “But, I have a feeling you’re mostly sweet. Am I right?”

  He waved the box of candy he had dropped. I cocked my head to the side and smiled demurely.

  “And in the event you wanted to see some of Paris, I brought you...” Simon reached into the bag and dramatically unfolded a large stick, “Voila! A cane.”

  “Wow, I’m impressed. You’ve really thought of everything,” I laughed uneasily.

  “So, what do you think?” He tilted his head and smiled.

  “I can’t believe you did all of this for me.” I held a hand to my chest. “You just might be the nicest guy I’ve ever met. Thank you for this ... all of this.” I waved my hand over the items.

  “My pleasure. Now, what do you think of my proposals?” He raised his eyebrows and cracked his knuckles. He certainly put in a lot of work for a little company.

  “Well, funny thing ... I found a book yesterday, right here on this balcony in fact. In that book, I may have read a handwritten note, which said that seeing a sunset in Paris is a must-do.”

  “Really.” Simon stood up a little straighter. “Whoever wrote that sounds like a very smart guy.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking.” I paused and tapped my finger to my lips. “Should we take his word for it? Maybe crack open the wine and enjoy it on that very same balcony where I found the book?”

  “Works for me.” Simon exhaled loudly.

  We looked at one another and smiled. I gathered the bottle and glasses, grabbed a corkscrew from the table, and led Simon back out to the balcony.

  “This really is some view,” he said. He took the bottle from my hand. I felt the warmth of his skin as his hand brushed against mine.

  I winced at the memory that the view could have been his every day. “I really am glad you’re here to enjoy it. Thanks for coming.” I handed Simon the corkscrew.

  “I had a really nice day with you, Lucy. I was actually starting to miss you a little bit.”

  Simon busied himself with the wine bottle, and I tried to hide the silly grin that popped on my face. There was something about this guy that made me feel pretty damn special. He was very charming and no doubt, had his pick of women back home.

  I chewed my bottom lip and watched him pour the wine with the grace of a professional. He swirled it around, stuck his nose inside the glass, and took a dramatic inhale. I suddenly felt giddy and burst into laughter.

  “What?” Simon looked at me and chuckled.

  “Nothing,” I shrugged. “You’re just funny.”

  “You don’t think I’d make a good sommelier?”

  I raised my eyebrows in response as he took a sip of the wine.

  “That’s dreadful.” Simon spat.

  “Oh, come on. Or are you still in character? I find it hard to believe you’re a wine snob.”

  “First of all, I take offense to that. But I’m actually not. You’ve got to try this.” Simon offered his glass to me.

  “How could I resist with an intro like that?” I took a generous sip and nearly choked as it hit the back of my throat. “Oh my God. It tastes...” I forced myself to swallow. “Like—”

  “Ass,” Simon finished.

  “Yes.” I groaned, after managing to swallow. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”

  “Look at that. We’re already finishing each other’s sentences.”

  I placed my glass on the black wrought iron table and watched Simon lean against the railing.

  “This figures,” he said and tossed his hands in the air. “Just when I get you to have a drink with me, I bring over the crap wine.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and made a face.

  “Please. I was about to open my own bottle of crap wine. So...” I paused. Now that I had company, I was in no rush to part ways. “What’s our plan B?”

  “How about we take our show on the road? Maybe ... a dinner cruise on the Seine?”

  “Talk about one extreme to another! Nah.” I wrinkled my nose. “Too touristy.”

  Simon took his hand and wiped it across his forehead. “Whew.”

  “Well, then why did you ask me?” I leaned against the railing next to him and folded my arms across my chest.

  “I just thought that ... well, maybe it would be up your alley.”

  “Yeah, maybe back in the day, like oh, you know ... about a week ago when I played it safe. But now that I’ve lived in a commune, ridden the Euro Rail, and picked grapes with the locals, I think I’d like to try something a bit more ... authentic.”

  “Like steak and pommes frites?”

  “Mmm, yes.” I licked my lips. “Can you just give me a minute?” I looked down at my wrinkled tank top and leggings. “I feel so...”

  “Gorgeous?”

  I figured he was kidding, but the look on his face was anything but.

  “No.” I stepped back into the room and
turned around to face him on the balcony. “I was going to say that I look like a hot mess.”

  “Nope,” Simon shook his head. He walked towards me and leaned his tall body on the balcony doorframe. “Just hot.”

  “You’re good for the ego. I’ll just be a minute.”

  He’s definitely not gay. Neither was I. Oh, neither was I. My entire body tingled.

  Simon followed me into the room and lightly touched my arm, sending an electric current down my body. “Lucy, don’t change. You really look great.”

  “Okay, okay,” I groaned outwardly, but was secretly flattered. We locked eyes and I wondered for a fleeting second if he was going to kiss me. I felt my heart beat faster and forced myself to swallow. What the hell was I doing? I quickly stepped back and turned to get my bag from the bed. I was hoping to disguise the effect his touch had on me, but could already feel my face burning.

  “In fact...” Simon paused, waiting for me to turn around. “I’ll bet that you’ll be tonight’s finest looking lady on a cane.”

  I held my hands to my chest as if I had just won the Oscar. “Ooh, what an accolade!” I cried a little too loudly, hoping to change the mood in the room. “Now I can bet you’ve never been out on the town with an older lady on a cane.”

  Simon narrowed an eye and nodded his head. “I like the sound of that.”

  “Being out with a cougar?” I raised a shoulder suggestively.

  “Well, not just any cougar. This one, in particular.”

  “Ha ha.” Was he trying to get into my pants? Did I even care? Was it really only one week ago that Chaz had called me a cougar? Now there I was, wanting to go in for the kill. I must’ve been temporarily insane.

  “I was kidding, by the way. I just like the sound of being out with you.” Simon handed me the cane with one hand and took a hold of my arm with the other. “Shall we?”

  “We shall,” I said. I took an awkward step with the cane. Simon flashed a boyish grin, and I suddenly felt like a senior citizen being led on my walker by a boy toy.