“Give him a minute. The restaurant is packed.”
Naomi looked around, taking in the hectic coming and going of cars, tour buses, cyclists, and pedestrians. “I count six busy streets merging at this intersection.”
“The French seem to love their traffic circles. I noticed them on the way from the airport.”
“I’ve read Place de Clichy,” Naomi pointed at the roundabout, “is one of only a few places in Paris where four arrondissements—the 8th, 9th, 17th, and 18th—meet at a single point. And look, all drivers know how to enter the traffic circle and go around the bronze statue in the center of it without causing accidents. Oops! I spoke too soon. A Peugeot almost took out a tour guide.”
“How do you know he’s a tour guide?” Stella chortled.
“Hint, hint…see the umbrella he’s holding up? And all the little ducklings wearing name tags and headphones who are following him?”
“Are we expected to wear name tags on our tour?”
“I don’t think so, since our group is small. There are only representatives of six or seven agencies and their guests.” Naomi made air quotes when she said guests. “It won’t take long to memorize everyone’s name. And by the end of the first day, we’ll have figured out who we want to hang out with at meals, and—even more important—who to avoid. There are always a few fellow travelers too chatty or nosy for their own good.”
“Says the one who’s talking to every stranger,” Stella laughed.
“True, but I prefer to be the one asking questions instead of being interrogated by some snoop.”
“At least you don’t deny it.”
“Nope, you know me too well,” Naomi admitted.
The waiter arrived with two glasses of champagne on his tray and set them in front of them. They looked at each other, confused and surprised.
“Thank you, but we didn’t order those,” Naomi told him.
“The two gentlemen at the bar are sending their regards,” he pointed to two men in their thirties. Both were wearing dark business suits with ties hanging around their necks. The men winked and raised their own drinks in the international gesture to say “Cheers.” Naomi and Stella tried to suppress giggles and raised their glasses, mouthing “Merci.”
“Do you think they expect an invitation to our table?” Stella whispered.
“I hope not…since they’ll be disappointed.”
“Maybe they’ll get the message if we don’t pay them much attention. Stop looking over there.” She pulled out her cell phone. “Oh, I have an idea. Let’s take a selfie and send it home. Luca asked me to let him know when we landed in Paris, but I forgot. He can forward it to my parents. And then I don’t wanna hear anything from anybody until we’re back in Philly.”
“Sounds good. Mom asked me to send a short note, too. Seeing your phone reminds me of something. Did you add an International Pass to your cell phone plan? Otherwise the roaming fees will kill you.”
“I never cancelled the plan after we went to Niagara Falls.”
“Good.” Naomi got up. “Now move over, I’ll sit next to you. Then we have the guys in the background, and we can tell Luca and Rev how we made friends on our first night in Paris.”
“Why would they care, and why send a photo to Rev?” Stella held up her phone. “Ugh, I hate selfies, maybe the waiter can take it.”
“Why send a photo to Revan? Easy. I’d like to see his reaction to the guy on the right.” Naomi stopped the waiter and asked him for the favor.
“Why?” Stella smiled for the photo, then sipped the champagne. “Mm, this is delicious. I could get used to having a glass every day before dinner.”
Naomi went back to her own chair. “Have you never noticed how Revan is always trying to show off his chest hair? He’d be envious of the guy behind us. Rev is such a down-to-earth guy, but sometimes he can be pretty vain.”
She leaned over the table and whispered, “Take a look next time he takes off his shirt.”
Stella scanned through the photos and sent one to Luca. “Listen, I’ve known Rev since he and Luca were in middle school, and I have no desire to eyeball him the way you do.”
Naomi fluttered with her hand and shook her head, “Speaking of Luca…”
“Not another discussion about chest hair, please. He’s my brother.”
“Did he say anything about Jo?” Naomi went on.
“What’s Luca got to do with Jo? She’s your cousin.” She made it a point to look at the menu. Her friend was like a bloodhound when she thought she was hot on the trail of something. “I’ll have the linguine with salmon. And you?”
“Sounds good, I’ll have the same.”
After they ordered, Naomi continued, “Jo mentioned she and Luca went out for drinks a few times. She used to text me almost daily, but she’s been quiet. It makes me suspicious.”
“Maybe she’s busy with her job. Isn’t she trying to build up her client base as a personal trainer? And she’s teaching yoga a few times a week. It’s a lot. New York City’s a tough place to establish a clientele.”
“Mark my words. I can smell it! Something’s going on. She’s ‘I’m in love’ quiet.” Naomi tapped the side of her nose. “Ask Luca.”
“I’m not about to ask Luca. If they had drinks, great. Having a beer with a friend doesn’t mean anything. We accepted the champagne from those two Casanovas, and we’re not doing anything with them. By the way, look over. They found someone else to hang out with. Good, we’re off the hook.”
“I think I’ll ask Revan. I’m sure men talk about their latest conquests with their best friends,” Naomi went on.
“Now Jo is Luca’s conquest? You’re terrible,” Stella choked out. “Nam, they’ve known each other as long as you and I have been friends. They happen to live in the same city. Leave ’em alone.”
“I can’t. Because she’s my cousin, and since I’m five days older than she is, it’s my responsibility to look out for her.”
Naomi could come across as
