Missing In Paris

Chapter 9

When Neela and her pals weren't lounging on balconies sipping bubbly and catching a breeze, it was more than likely they were busy trying to earn living.

It was hard to imagine the 'workaday life' in a city as romanticized as Paris, but outside of guidebooks, stationary and throw pillows, it was all about earnin' those euros.

For Tiff, she had worked her way up from thinking about euros to thinking about her next big designer footwear purchase, or that next weekend trip to a sunny destination.

For the moment, she was leading a horde of business chic minions from the stately boardroom of the company where she worked; she was also spouting off instructions in rapid-fire French, her American accent neatly camouflaged.

The minions gobbled up her cold instructions, and without any room for clarifying questions, she left them in the dust of her patent-leather Louboutins.

She turned a corner of offices that got progressively smaller, each step leading her further away from natural light. She wound up in an open concept bullpen, where design and development geeks made a living.

One of these minions was no minion at all, with his volumized hair and fashionable scarf adding glitz and glamour to an otherwise humdrum setting. It was, and could only be, Dante.

Tiff approached him and watched as he put the finishing touches on the design for a women's hair dye package.

"Nice," Tiff said nodding.

"Bottle blonde has never been classier," he replied, his eyes still focused and in full concentration.

"Ready for lunch?" she said casually.

He abandoned his focus and jumped out of his chair. "God yes!"

***

Sunlight poured into the Jardin Du Palais Royal, a small rectangular park enclosed by the walls of the palace. The tree-lined perimeter surrounded a weathered fountain, where Natalie Portman had once splashed around for a lucrative fragrance campaign.

There were no fountain-divers today, just groups of co-workers who'd arranged their chairs in exclusive circles of gossip.

Tiff and Dante sat among them, shaded by a leafy tree.

"Just try to be supportive when she comes," Dante said, as he prepared to dig into his baguette sandwich.

Tiff plastered on a smile. "When am I not supportive?"

Dante snorted and was about to say more but he stopped himself when he noticed Neela jogging up to them.

"You didn't save me seat?" she said frowning.

"You're late," Tiff stated.

"Seven minutes!"

Dante took a moment to size her up; worn T-shirt and jeans, a dusty pair of Keds. "Why are you even late at all? You even don't have a real boss, your job isn't even real...should I go on?"

Neela gasped. "The gig economy is very real!"

"Good thing you're marrying rich," he muttered before taking a big bite of his sandwich.

"Ha ha," Neela said quietly as she unwrapped her chocolate croissant.

"You're having a croissant for lunch?" Tiff said, as she pulled out a salad featuring dark leafy greens.

Neela shrugged. "My day started late." She inhaled the first bite and sighed happily. "Any promising updates on the search?"

Dante shook his head. "It didn't go viral."