watch.
“Really? Now?” It was nearly midnight, but it felt like four in the morning. She was pleasantly drunk and mellow and determined to seduce Paul like the sexually independent and freethinking woman she was. Never mind that she really just wanted to continue their conversation upstairs, tucked under a comfy duvet while they languidly talked and kissed until sunrise. She would lay her head on his chest and he would play with her hair, occasionally cupping her chin with a strong hand and gently pulling her lips to his. They would laugh at each other’s silly puns and share secrets and talk about all their favorite places to visit, hoping but not yet saying-after all, it was only their first night-that they would someday travel to all of them together. They would wake in the late morning and Paul would tell Emmy how adorable she looked all sleepy and disheveled and they would order room-service breakfast (flaky croissants, fresh orange juice, coffee with full-fat milk, and a whole plate of plump, juicy berries) and work out their plan for-
“Hey there. Emmy?” Paul placed a few fingers on the top of her hand. “You still with me?”
“Sorry. What were you saying?”
“I was saying that I have to get going. I was supposed to meet some friends at ten, but I, uh, got distracted.” His sheepish smile made her heart skip a beat. “Any other time I’d invite you to come-I’d insist on it-but, well, it’s actually a birthday party for my ex, and I’m not sure she’d be thrilled if I brought…someone. You know?”
The projector in Emmy’s head came to an abrupt stop; the screen showing the two of them laughing as they raided her minibar for more wine was replaced with one where she alone watched the endless loops on CNN International, clad in her holey gray T-shirt, popping those massive French
She managed a smile. “No, no, no. Of course! I totally understand. It would be weird and inconsiderate to show up with another girl. Plus, I’m really feeling the jet lag right now-Christ, it’s hitting me like a ton of bricks. And I have such an early meeting tomorrow, so I wouldn’t be able to go, anyway.”
Paul motioned to the waiter for their check.
“No, please, let me,” she said, reaching rather forcefully across their tiny table. A remixed Shirley Basset song thumped from the speakers behind them and Emmy was surprised to see how thoroughly the entire lobby had transformed into a dark velvety lair of magnificent people.
“I really am sorry to leave like this, but they’re my oldest friends and it’s been forever…”
“Of course! Don’t worry about a thing.” She had already accepted that she was going upstairs alone. The idea of falling into bed with Paul as part of a promise she made to her friends felt ridiculous. Who was she kidding? It just wasn’t in her nature. Fine for other girls-fantastic, in fact, for people like Adriana-but Emmy just wasn’t made like that. She wanted to know someone, know him in every sense of the word, and sex was something that naturally followed that process, not some impulsive act that took the place of it. Besides, she was here all week. Maybe they could meet again the next day for dinner… Oh, wait, she had evening meetings the next night. Well, then they’d have to meet for drinks afterward. Start at the hotel, perhaps, because it was the most convenient, and then roam some charming cobblestone streets before ducking into the perfect Parisian bistro for some late-night
He walked her to the tiny elevator tucked into a pitch-black corner of the lobby and stepped aside as an exceedingly attractive couple stepped off.
“It was nice to meet you, Em. Emmy. Which do people call you?”
“Both. But my closest friends have always used Em, so I like that.” She gave him her most winning smile.
“Well, uh, I’m headed out in the morning, so I guess this is good-bye.”
“Oh. Really? Where’s home?” She realized she didn’t even know where he lived.
“Not home yet, unfortunately. I’ll be in Geneva for the next two days, and then possibly Zurich, depending.”
“Sounds busy.”
“Yeah, the travel schedule can be intense. But, uh, well, it really was great to meet you.” He paused and grinned. “I said that already, didn’t I?”
Emmy told herself that the lump in her throat was a combination of PMS and jet lag and too much wine, and had absolutely positively nothing to do with Paul. Yet she was afraid she’d cry if she tried to speak, so she merely nodded.
“Get some rest, okay? And don’t let any of the Costes people push you around. Promise?”
She nodded again.
He tipped her face up toward his own and for a second she was quite certain he was going to kiss her. Instead, he looked into her eyes and smiled again. Then he kissed her cheek and turned away.
“Good night, Emmy. Take care of yourself.”
“Good night, Paul. You, too.”
She stepped onto the elevator, and before the doors closed, he was gone.
“Fatty! Fatty! Fatty!” the nasty bird cawed. It had awakened, like a human infant, at five-forty-five that morning-a Saturday!-and refused to go back to sleep. Adriana tried humming to it, feeding it, holding it, playing with it, and, finally, locking it in the guest bathroom with the lights off, but the little winged beast persisted in its verbal barrage.
“Big girl! Big girl! Big girl!” it screeched, its head bobbing up and down like a dashboard dog.
“Now you listen to me, you little fucker,” Adriana hissed, her lips nearly touching the cage’s metal bars. “I am a lot of things-a lot of lousy, crummy things-but fat is
The bird cocked its head to the side as if he were considering her question. Adriana thought he may have even nodded, and she turned to go back to bed, satisfied. She hadn’t even stepped through the bathroom door when the bird cawed-more quietly this time, she would swear-“Fat girl.”
“You bastard!” she screamed, nearly lunging at the cage. It took every ounce of willpower not to toss the whole thing out the twenty-sixth-floor window. The bird merely looked at her curiously. “Oh my god,” she muttered to herself. “I’m talking to a parrot.”
Adriana had always thought Emmy was overreacting about the bird; it wasn’t until this very moment-when the sleep deprivation really began to set in and her self-esteem hung by a thread-that she understood how damaging it must be to reside with the animal fulltime.
She rooted through the linen closet in search of an oversized towel but eagerly grabbed a Frette fitted sheet when it was the first thing she saw. Tossing it over the cage and tucking its elasticized border snugly underneath, Adriana briefly worried that she might be suffocating it. Deciding she could live with that possible consequence, she drew the bathroom blinds and shut off the lights. Miraculously, the bird remained quiet. It wasn’t until she was safely back under the covers with her cucumber eye mask resecured that she exhaled. Thank god.
She was drifting off when the phone rang, and she was so tired that she actually answered it.
“Adi? Are you still sleeping?” Gilles’s voice, uncharacteristically deep for someone so slight, boomed through the phone.
“We’re not meeting today until one. It’s only ten. Why are you calling me?”
“Well, well, someone’s not a morning person!” he sang, sounding delighted.
“Gilles…”
“Sorry. Look, I have to cancel lunch today. I know I’m a hideous friend, but I got a better offer.”
“A better offer? First the bird calls me fat, and now you’re saying you got a better offer?”
“The bird?
“Forget it. So enlighten me, what constitutes a better offer than chopped salads and Bloody Marys and manicures?”
“Oh, I don’t know… Maybe, um…let’s see…only the opportunity of a lifetime. Are you ready for this?”
