AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’ll do what I should have done years ago. I’ll tell him I’m sorry.”
After what felt like a year in the air, the plane landed. They checked into their hotel and Remi gave Merrick the night off. It was Saturday after all. And all she wanted to do was sleep and recover from the flight. Merrick, however, had other plans.
“Vive la France, remember?” Merrick grabbed her by the upper arms and forced a kiss on each of her cheeks. “When in Paris, do as the Parisians do.”
“What do the Parisians do?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I’m hoping it involves getting Parisian drunk and getting Parisian laid. Not necessarily in that Parisian order.”
“I’m not drinking with you. Or any of the other options.”
“We need to find this Brite boy of yours. My sources tell me he’s a short Parisian cab ride away.”
“Are you going to put ‘Parisian’ in front of every noun until we leave?” Remi asked as Merrick hailed a taxi.
“That would be a Parisian yes. I mean ‘oui.’”
Remi managed not to murder him during the ten minutes between their hotel and Julien’s building.
“I think this is it.” Merrick said when the cab stopped in front of a nondescript three-story building. He paid the driver, which Remi thought was an unusually gallant gesture until she noticed Merrick was using her credit card. They stepped out onto a side street off theRue de Furstemberg.
Merrick half-escorted, half-dragged her to the door.
“I think this is it. My sources tell me this is it,” he said. “And by ‘sources’ I mean the Brite family housekeeper.”
“Are you sure?” she asked. “I can’t imagine any of the Brite family staying in someplace so normal. Well, normal for Paris, I mean.”
“This has to be it. I paid ten whole dollars for his address.”
“Your sources are cheap dates,” Remi said. “Let’s hope we got your money’s worth.”
She rang the buzzer and dusted off her high school French.
“Bonjour?” came a woman’s voice through the speaker. Woman? At Julien’s house on a Saturday night?
“Bonjour,” Remi said, trying not to be bothered by the elegant voice. “Julien Brite,s’il vous plait?”
“Your accent is terrible,” the woman answered in English.
Remi laughed. “It’s French by way of a Kentucky high school. Is Julien in?”
“He might be,” the woman said in a clipped tone. She had something of an accent too but neither French nor Kentuckian. “Who are you?”
“My name is Remi Montgomery of Arden Farms. And-”
“Come up please,” the woman said before Remi could even finish her speech.
She looked at Merrick who smiled at her in return.
“Look at you, Boss,” he said. “You’re famous.”
The door buzzed and she headed up the stairs to an apartment on the third floor.
Remi knocked and a woman answered the door. She looked about mid-thirties and was clearly of Indian descent even though her clothes—a boat neck shirt, white scarf, and stylish slacks—were pure Parisian chic. And she was beautiful beyond words. So beautiful even Merrick had gone speechless—something of a miracle.
“Oh, holy Parisian shit,” Merrick finally said. So much for speechless.
“Excuse me?” the woman asked.
