Once safely on the ground, we waited at baggage claim because the wait for our next flight is so long. We had purposely been the last ones off the plane to insure that Gunther was off and gone before we even stepped foot in Paris. We managed to avoid him. By the time we had finished getting our bags and grabbing something to eat it was seven AM our time, and four PM Paris time.
Mark decided it would be best if we dropped our bags at the hotel before going off to sight see. I happily obliged. We caught a cab and drove the little ways it was to our hotel. We rounded a corner and Amy gasped. In front of us was the 986 foot tall Eiffel Tower, basically towering (pun unintended) over us. It was absolutely breathtaking.
"Get used to that sight, because we are going to be able to see it from our hotel room." Mark said, grinning at Amy and me. I hate to admit it, but I giggled like a school girl. It is beautiful.
The taxi rolled to a stop in front of a white tiered building. The sign above the doorway said "Shangri-La: Paris" Now it was my turn to gasp.
"Mark, how much did this cost?"
"That's none of your business Madame. Trust me, I can afford it."
We were met at the edge of the street by a bellhop, who took our bags and helped me out of the car and on to my crutches. Then we were led through beautiful wrought iron gates and into the main hall, where a gorgeous marble staircase with a delicate black handrail curved up to the second floor. My jaw was at my feet. But then it went even lower, because Mark walked up to check in and began speaking fluent French. After retrieving our keys he walked back over to us grinning.
"So what'dya think?"
"I think you're insane, and where the hell did you learn to speak French." I responded, still dumbfounded.
"I had a lot of free time. Just wait 'till you hear my Italian." He said, smirking at me.
We were pointed in the direction of our room, and stumbled over to an elevator.
"Okay, our room is 263, keep an eye out for it." Mark said when we got to the second floor. We walked slowly down the hallway so I could keep up, but after a while Amy said, "I found it," and pulled Mark over to a door on the left side of the hallway. He slid the key into the slot, and pushed the door open.
I gasped again.
YOU ARE READING
Script
ActionWilliam Shakespeare has been credited with writing 37 plays and 154 sonnets. What would happen if one more was found 400 years later? This novel follows two orphaned sisters and a boy who seems to know just a little bit too much, as they are thrown...
