The Model Spy

Chapter 5 - The City of Hate

When the countryside gave way to paved roads, tightly packed buildings, and bright lights, I knew we were nearing the city. Haussmann's architecture wove and curved with the narrow streets and grand boulevards. From a distance, every building looked similar in height and color, but as the car drove past and I pressed my face against the window's glass, I could see the extraordinary details making each building beautifully different and unique: the slate roofs, ornate carvings, and pavilions lined with glowing windows that gave those who passed by a glimpse into sweet bakeries and extravagant boutiques. The car drove along the Seine and passed landmarks I had only ever seen in travel guides: the Opera House, the Lourve, and towering in the distance above the coherent sea of buildings, glittering against the black sky, the Eiffel Tower.

"It's stunning," I breathed. I pressed my hands to the window and stared at the tower's sparkling lights, until the car turned away and it was no longer in sight.

My hands still pressed to the glass, I practically shouted in excitement. "Did you see that?" I asked Zach. When I turned away from the window, this time it was him staring back at me through the rear-view mirror. Like I had done earlier, he hurriedly looked away. "Did you see the Eiffel Tower?" I asked again, much more slowly and quietly this time.

His eyes back on the road, he enunciated every word. "Don't. Talk. To. Me."

Exasperated, I leaned back against the seat and watched the lights pass by outside my window. The rest of the car ride was silent, until Zach effortlessly swerved the car into an empty spot Fred had pulled a few strings to reserve for us. It was a spot right outside of the hotel, an old, rounded building on a corner where several roads converged.

I let myself out of the car and looked up at the hotel's illuminated marquee. I scoffed at the hotel's name. The Hotel L'Amour. I stole a glance back at Zach, who was still sitting in the driver's seat and scanning through his phone. The screen's white light illuminated his sullen face. Suddenly he closed his eyes and leaned his head back, letting out what I could only imagine was an irritated sigh. There definitely wouldn't be any amour in this hotel.

I looked back up at the dazzling marquee, somewhat convinced that the choice in lodging was Fred's idea of some ironic joke. The hotel stood only about five stories, but it took up nearly the entire block. Hundreds of windows, with little flower boxes beneath every single one, lined every side of the white building. A woman sat at her window high above me, a long cigarette resting in her fingertips. Another couple sat on their balcony, their hands tightly entwined as they watched Paris bustle below them. The entire scene was right out of a movie.

Behind me, the car door slammed. Zach brushed past me without a word.

"Where are you going?" I called after him.

Silence.

Two women walking side-by-side, who had previously been engaged in a deep conversation, froze in their tracks as Zach strolled by. Their eyes lingered on his backside before they both looked at each other with expressions I had seen numerous times in the halls of high school. I nearly threw up. The smiling doorman standing beneath the marquee took a step towards the door, but Zach ignored him and pulled the glass door open himself.

I stood on the street corner, my awe slowly replaced by an uncomfortable feeling as complete strangers shuffled past me. I didn't know where to stand. I was in everyone's way. Someone nudged me and I stumbled into our parked car. The hotel stood at the crossroads of several roads, and in every direction the streets were bustling. Though it was the middle of the night, it seemed like no one was in bed. I opened the car's door and unloaded my bags, piling them on the sidewalk one by one.