Paris In the Rain

Chapter 2: Sunny Day Blues

"To love to read is to exchange hours of ennui for hours of delight."   Charles De Montesquieu

Chapter 2: Sunny Day Blues

I had been in Paris a week. The weather was brilliant thus far, sparing the first day that is. My morning schedule comprised of walking ten minutes to the artistic district Place du Tertre where I viewed all the new pieces. Then around 8h00 I would stop into Le Quartier Latin, which was about 20 minutes away.  Later on towards noon I’d wonder the streets of Paris. Usually hitting at least one famous tourist attractions a day.

There I would make my way to a café I found hidden by an alley. It was said Le Noir Chat could only be found by those who knew where it is. So when I stumbled upon it I felt special. The walls were red brick, the floors dark oak. Heavy Persian rugs were strewn about in a disjointed fashion.  The furniture consisted of chocolaty leather uprights and varies colored couches. The spiral staircse in the back left corner lead to a library. Patrons were free to check books out, or buy them at modest prices.

I walked up to the spunky barista, “Bonjour!”

“Good morning mate! What will you be having?” Tiffani Collingwood was the reason for my visits to Le Noir Chat.  The twenty-something owner of the shop was London bred and raised . It was nice to speak English with someone. Her diction was short and fiery, just like her natural sangria pixie cut. Her eyes were observant, cat-like. I liked the way they flickered from ice-blue to flat grey depending on the light.

“Surprise me,” She never let me down.

“Why Miss Nadia Elliot aren’t you spontaneous,” I laughed knowing I’m just the opposite. Tiffani on the other hand was. She opted to move to France, on a whim, at eighteen, and then choose to buy the Le Noir Chat after the previous owner retired. She flipped her hair allowing me a peek of her onyx gages.

She went on to prepare me a caffeinated concoction, “So, Tiffani, I’ve been thinking about getting a hotel room closer to Le Noir Chat. What do you think?”

“Why not just stay with me?” Tiffani had stilled to look at me with plainness.

“I couldn’t,” I protested, she paced around the counter. Coming to stand in front of me, at five-nine, she loomed above me.

“Didn’t you say your parents were worried about you? Are we not mates? Come stay with me,” I nodded.

She embraced me, “I can’t wait!”

A moment later she swung a large red mug in front of me filled with a tan substance. I marched up the iron steps to the loft before sitting in a big leather chair. I look a sip of my coffee; it tasted of vanilla and caramel.

I dazed off into space for an unidentified amount of time.

Thud! With a violent leap I was out of my chair and glaring at my aggressor. Tiffani was smirking still holding the black volume against the side table where she struck.

 “Why the hell did you do that?” Was she on some new medication?

“Oh, I just wanted to give you this,” Her creamy hand held out a pristine hardcover with an outline of a feline, “It’s called Le Noir Chat. The bloke who wrote it is a regular and decided to use the shop as the setting.

“What is it about?” The author’s name appeared in silver etching: Peirce Bannoy. 

“Thought you’d be interested: it’s about two Americans, who fall madly in love after meeting here.” With that she resumed her post and I pondered the mysterious hardback.