Cameramen and producers were already on the scene, gathering all around her. Even the French people on the street looked interested in the spectacle. “Medic! Medic! Someone call an ambulance!” yelled my spa chaperone Irene to the crowd of café-goers and pedestrians.
“Irene’s back,” I said. “I love her new haircut. I wonder if she got it here in Paris.”
“No,” said Alanna, shaking her head with a disgusted look on her face. “There is no way that’s a genuine Paris haircut. Trust me.”
“Someone help us,” yelled cameraman Bob.
“God, can’t any of them speak French?” said Alanna. “Look at our crew down there, panicking. Wearing their stupid fanny packs and ironic t-shirts. They all look like they’re from Portland. I’m so embarrassed to even be associated with this clan of morons. I thought maybe Luca was smart, but no. Of course not. Seriously, you Americans are imbeciles.” She drew in a deep breath and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Appelez une ambulance,” she yelled down to the crowd, jumping up and down. She waved her hands. Next she whistled and did some Sasquatch whoops. “Up here! Look at me! Listen! Listen you idiots: Excusez-moi! Excusez-moi! Appelez une ambulance! Appelez une ambulance,” she yelled again. Everyone looked up at her. “Not for me! For her,” she said, pointing at Klassie.
“What’s that funny noise? ‘Rear-rear, rear-rear, rear-rear.’ What could it be?” asked Deb.
“It’s an ambulance, you ninny,” said Alanna. “It’s coming because I yelled for it. I can’t believe everyone else just stood there.”
“It’s coming because I told the guy at the front desk to call for help,” said Vanessa, reappearing in the doorway. “I’ve already been downstairs, saved Klassie’s life, and even picked up these.” She showed off a few postcards that were all black and said Paris by Night.
“I’m not a ninny. And that doesn’t sound like any ambulance I ever heard,” said Deb. “Oh. Oops. Yep, there it is. You’re right. I’m wrong. It’s an ambulance. I guess French ambulances sound different from American ambulances. Live and learn.”
Klassie waved at us. “I guess I have to go away for a little while,” she called. “See you soon. Have a good date, Deb. I think you should wear the sundress. Bye!” She gave us a shaky but heroic thumbs-up as they took her away on a stretcher.
“Was she serious?” asked Deb. “Doesn’t this robe look cool?”
“Very cool,” said Alanna.
“Well then, good. I’m wearing it and that’s that. Enough overthinking things, right?”
“Right,” said Alanna.
There was a knock at our door.
“I’ll
bet it’s him,” said Deb.
“I’ve got it,” said Vanessa. She flung it open and acted surprised to see Bellamy standing there. “Bellamy! What a wonderful treat! Are you here to see me?”
“Hi,” he said, nodding to Alanna and me. “Hi, Vanessa.” He gave her a hug. “I’m here for my date with Deb.”
“That’s still happening?”
“Sure.”
“Oh. I thought maybe since Klassie almost died you’d rather spend your date with me. I’m a doctor. I saved her life.”
“Huh. I didn’t hear about that. You’re kidding, right? So, anyhow, I’m here for my date with Deb.”
“Oh, yeah. That. Have a good time,” said Vanessa. She plunked back down on the sofa, picked up her postcards, and started filling them out.
“Are you ready?” Bellamy asked Deb, eyeing her robe.
“Yes sir! Am I ever! Shall we?” she asked.
“If you’re sure you’re ready,” he said. “I can wait if you need more time.”
“No sir. I’m all set,” she said, holding out her arm like a country gentleman. She tipped an imaginary five gallon hat with her fingertips and winked. “I guess the question is, are you ready?”
“Uh, sure I’m ready,” he said, taking her arm. “Bye,” he said to the rest of us. I waved. Alanna and Vanessa ignored him.
“You smell so good. What kind of aftershave are you wearing? Is it Old Leather like my grandpa wears?” we heard Deb whisper to him on their way out the door. Alanna made a quiet retching sound without looking up from The Paris Museum Lover’s Guidebook. As soon as they were gone, Vanessa threw her pen and postcards to the floor and Alanna tossed her book over the balcony.