Page 107 of Shade
I’d love to say I went to the hotel and relaxed, then made my way to Rue Cler. . . had a glass of Rosé at the ultra-famous Cafe Fiore, hiked up to the Sacre Cour for sunset, climbed the steps of Norte Dame to take in the view and see the gargoyles up close, but all that would be bullshit.
I’m with the Sawyer brothers and their delinquent freestyle riding friends. How do you think my time spent in Paris that afternoon and evening went?
Like this.
We went to a steak house where we meet up with other riders who are part of this freestyle event we’re here for. Apparently it’s to lead up to the world tour finals in Madrid this fall.
Shade wears his sunglasses like a little punk until I glare at him. “Take them off. There’s no reason to wear them in here, and it’s disrespectable.”
He’s sitting across from me and smiles, just one side slightly higher than the other but doesn’t say anything. He waits approximately five minutes while three bottles of wine are delivered to the table and what they tell me is snails, something I will not be eating.
When I raise my glass of wine to my lips, Shade removes his sunglasses and tucks them into his T-shirt.
Beside me sits another rider, one with shaggy strawberry-blond hair and tattoos like the rest of them. I’m beginning to understand these guys spend most of their time either riding or in a tattoo parlor.
“I’m Reece,” he tells me, giving me a nod, his bright green eyes shining under his black hat he has pulled down low. “Who are you?”
“I’m Scarlet Rose.” I motion to Shade across from me, and Roan and Tiller who are sitting at opposite ends of the table for good reason. “I’m their personal assistant. Filling in for Willa while she’s on maternity leave.”
“She’s with me,” Tiller notes, reaching across the table for the bottle of wine and drinking straight from the bottle.
I don’t know why, but my eyes dart from Tiller’s to Shade’s. Maybe because I want to see his reaction. His jaw clenches, but nothing else. He’s not even paying much attention. He’s having a conversation with the guy seated next to him.
I glance at Tiller next, shooting him a glare. “No, I’m not. I don’t see how your dick hasn’t fallen off.”
Reece laughs lightly, bringing his own glass of wine to his lips. He takes a drink and then reaches for a snail. I nearly vomit and have to look away if he’s going to eat it. “Why would you take a job with these jerkoffs?”
I refuse to look at him. “I’m still trying to figure that out, but it was better than working at the hotel.”
“What’d you do there?” he asks.
Tiller pipes up with, “Maid,” before I can say anything.
I down my wine and then refill the bottle. “Actually, I worked the front desk.”
Shade cocks his head to the side. “You were a maid?”
He apparently wasn’t paying attention during my interview with him and Willa where I mentioned that, but I shouldn’t expect much else, should I? He doesn’t remember we had sex either.
The small talk and wine drinking continue and I have quite possibly the best steak ever and enough bread to bloat me for the next month. It’s the wine, I’m sure of it, but they somehow convince me to go to the catacombs with them.
I voice my opinion many times with, “I don’t want to go.
All the while, I’m dragged along by Tiller saying, “Don’t be a pussy.”
“No one calls me a pussy,” the five glasses of wine in me shouts. “Let’s do this.”
The tour guide, who could have been a criminal for all I know, leads us down the tunnels, seems nervous and shifty if you ask me, but I think it has something to do with the fact that we’re probably not supposed to be down here. It’s midnight.
Do you know what catacombs are?
In short, it’s where bones and mummies are.
The catacombs of Paris are underground ossuaries. They hold the remains of more than six million people.
It’s located in theBarriere d’Enferwhich is called The Gate of Hell. And that my friends, to me, translates into stay the fuck out as far as I’m concerned. They don’t see it that way though.
We wander around the catacombs, looking at the ancient carcasses and mummified corpses. Some of the mummies sit alone, others are surrounded by skulls. Some of the skulls have a single hole. I know how that dude died.
