Missing In Paris

Chapter 5

A cobblestoned side street wound its way along the side of a 16th century church, the wrought-iron fencing separating Saturday strollers from the sunlit garden.

The sound of chatter began to build from around the corner, where terraces faced off for two kinds of brunch—baguette inspired, and wannabe Brooklyn.

On the street side that was offering up the hipster-approved fare, Neela's friends were busy ogling the dazzling diamond that now adorned her finger. As their eyes glazed over in admiration the waiter arrived with the food.

"Okay guys focus!" Neela instructed, pointing at the food. "We'll get back to the other thing later."

With Neela's direction, the congratulatory theme was immediately replaced with hungry eyes and foaming at the mouth, as the waiter set down plates of eggs and bacon, pancakes, home fries, avocado toast...the works.

Neela's best friend Dante was the first to dive into his meal. He was a flashy Mexican who doubled as a deity for volumized hair. Even though he wasn't a shampoo model, he was the perfect fit for the cosmetics and haircare firm that paid him for his graphic design talents.

"Mmm..." he moaned after taking his first bite.

Neela had first met Dante at Paris's only sports and apparel store, a run-in that had happened during the previous summer when jogging in parks had suddenly become the 'see and be seen' activity. While some of the joggers had been serious runners, Neela and Dante were anything but, and when they'd realized this mutual in the mesh-forward athletic apparel section, they'd never looked back.

On this particular Sunday afternoon, Dante was busy re-committing himself to not being a runner, this time by inhaling a two-thousand-calorie brunch.

"Thank goddd Paris got the eggs benny memo," he said sighing. He elbowed their friend Chloe who was sitting next to him. "Aren't you glad Paris brunch is has gotten better?"

Chloe was short and slight in frame, with blonde hair and expressive eyes that broke through the stereotype of French women being aloof. She still refused to talk above a whisper in a metro—a common French trait of treating public places like libraries—and still considered classical French cuisine to be the height of the culinary arts, but the stereotypical tendencies ended there.

Chloe was also one of the first people Neela had met in Paris, during an English and French quiz night at a bar. It was a place where expats and French nationals would come together to improve their language skills. For Neela and Chloe, it had been a place to come together to get buzzed and make fun of the way-too-serious quiz nerds.

Despite her lack of stereotypical traits, Chloe could definitely get annoyed when someone elbowed her unexpectedly. She frowned. "Dante do you mind? I'm eating."

"Oh believe me," Dante said, shaking his head, "we've noticed."

Chloe immediately blushed.

"By the way," Dante added, "Interpol's gonna lock you up for eating pancakes instead of crêpes."

He wasn't wrong about Chloe breaking her classical French code, but Neela had always assumed it only applied to dinners.

"Maybe she's just worldly when it comes to brunch," offered Neela. "So maybe we should applaud her for venturing out of her comfort zone to try these cakey discs from a foreign land." Neela squeezed Chloe's arm in solidarity. "Next time I visit home I'm gonna bring you back some Fluff." Chloe frowned in confusion. "It's marshmallow cream," Neela added. "I mean not really a cream per se, it's actually more of a spread type product."