Read Online Lost December by Richard Paul Evans - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Richard Paul Evans
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stop doling out money for him,” Candace said.
“I’m not doling it, I’m loaning it,” I said.
“You sure?”
I looked at her gravely. “He’s good for it, isn’t he?”
“You wouldn’t know if he wasn’t, would you?”
She had a point. “I guess we’ll find out,” I said.
CHAPTER
Eighteen
I’ve heard it said that if you want to know someone,
travel with them—you’ll either end up loving or leaving them.
It might be true
.
Luke Crisp’s Diary
We had only been in Monte Carlo for a week when Sean insisted that Paris was calling. As beautiful as Monte Carlo was, I went along with his plans. In part because I was tired of Sean asking for gambling money. But, more importantly, Paris seemed like the ideal place to propose to Candace. Candace and I had grown even closer over the past few weeks, and I was now more certain than ever that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.
Sean suggested we stay at the Four Seasons George V, located in one of the most fashionable quarters of Paris and within walking distance of the Arc de Triomphe, the Place de la Concorde and the Eiffel Tower. Candace gasped as we entered the hotel’s lobby, which was what I was hoping for. The hotel was decorated with bright tapestries, marble columns and fresh flowers and smelled of geraniums.
“Luke, this is incredible,” she said.
“Nothing’s too good for my girl,” I said.
She leaned into me. “Except you,” she replied.
Walking into our room elicited even more excitement from Candace. Our room was decorated with royal blue cloth-covered walls, crystal chandeliers and, like the lobby, fresh flowers.
The room was about $2,500 a night. Looking back, I can see the change that had come over me. In my previous life I would never have considered spending more than a few hundred dollars a day for a hotel room, but the $4,000 suites in Cannes had corrupted my perspective. I actually considered the price of the rooms a bargain. At least I would have if I was paying for just one of them. I had booked two rooms next to each other. I was anxious about still putting Sean’s room on my bill. His tab was skyrocketing, and I still hadn’t seen any evidence of him fixing his credit card problem or paying me back.
As usual, Sean had prepared our agenda. We ate dinner at
Le Bristol
, a fashionable restaurant that changes its décor with the seasons. It was there that I tasted white truffles for the first time—an aromatic fungus that sometimes costs more per ounce than gold. I could no more describe its taste than describe salt.
The next few days Candace and I separated from the group and visited all the popular attractions that Americans come to Paris for. We took a river cruise on the Seine and spent nearly an entire day at both the Louvre and the Musée d’Orsay.
Our first Friday night in Paris, Sean insisted we visit a popular nightclub in the Champs-Élysées district called LesBains Douches, one of the hottest spots in Paris. It ended up just being the three guys, since Candace was tired from the day’s walking and Lucy wasn’t feeling well again.
“Les Bains Douches means ‘The Baths,’” Sean said on the cab ride to the club. “It was built on the site of a Turkish bath.”
When we got to the club door, Sean said to me, “Give the man a fifty.”
I looked at him. “What for?”
“The bouncers are notorious for turning people away for no reason. If you’re not a model or Mick Jagger, you gotta pay to play.”
I reluctantly passed the bouncer 50 euros, but we still had to wait nearly forty minutes to get in. That wasn’t the worst thing to happen. Not by a long shot. We ate dinner in the club’s Thai restaurant, but when the waitress brought us our check, I almost choked. She had put a $1,000 bottle of champagne on our bill.
When I protested the charge, I was immediately surrounded by three bouncers, who strong-armed me to a back room and made me swipe my debit card for the entire amount. My
“I’m not doling it, I’m loaning it,” I said.
“You sure?”
I looked at her gravely. “He’s good for it, isn’t he?”
“You wouldn’t know if he wasn’t, would you?”
She had a point. “I guess we’ll find out,” I said.
CHAPTER
Eighteen
I’ve heard it said that if you want to know someone,
travel with them—you’ll either end up loving or leaving them.
It might be true
.
Luke Crisp’s Diary
We had only been in Monte Carlo for a week when Sean insisted that Paris was calling. As beautiful as Monte Carlo was, I went along with his plans. In part because I was tired of Sean asking for gambling money. But, more importantly, Paris seemed like the ideal place to propose to Candace. Candace and I had grown even closer over the past few weeks, and I was now more certain than ever that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.
Sean suggested we stay at the Four Seasons George V, located in one of the most fashionable quarters of Paris and within walking distance of the Arc de Triomphe, the Place de la Concorde and the Eiffel Tower. Candace gasped as we entered the hotel’s lobby, which was what I was hoping for. The hotel was decorated with bright tapestries, marble columns and fresh flowers and smelled of geraniums.
“Luke, this is incredible,” she said.
“Nothing’s too good for my girl,” I said.
She leaned into me. “Except you,” she replied.
Walking into our room elicited even more excitement from Candace. Our room was decorated with royal blue cloth-covered walls, crystal chandeliers and, like the lobby, fresh flowers.
The room was about $2,500 a night. Looking back, I can see the change that had come over me. In my previous life I would never have considered spending more than a few hundred dollars a day for a hotel room, but the $4,000 suites in Cannes had corrupted my perspective. I actually considered the price of the rooms a bargain. At least I would have if I was paying for just one of them. I had booked two rooms next to each other. I was anxious about still putting Sean’s room on my bill. His tab was skyrocketing, and I still hadn’t seen any evidence of him fixing his credit card problem or paying me back.
As usual, Sean had prepared our agenda. We ate dinner at
Le Bristol
, a fashionable restaurant that changes its décor with the seasons. It was there that I tasted white truffles for the first time—an aromatic fungus that sometimes costs more per ounce than gold. I could no more describe its taste than describe salt.
The next few days Candace and I separated from the group and visited all the popular attractions that Americans come to Paris for. We took a river cruise on the Seine and spent nearly an entire day at both the Louvre and the Musée d’Orsay.
Our first Friday night in Paris, Sean insisted we visit a popular nightclub in the Champs-Élysées district called LesBains Douches, one of the hottest spots in Paris. It ended up just being the three guys, since Candace was tired from the day’s walking and Lucy wasn’t feeling well again.
“Les Bains Douches means ‘The Baths,’” Sean said on the cab ride to the club. “It was built on the site of a Turkish bath.”
When we got to the club door, Sean said to me, “Give the man a fifty.”
I looked at him. “What for?”
“The bouncers are notorious for turning people away for no reason. If you’re not a model or Mick Jagger, you gotta pay to play.”
I reluctantly passed the bouncer 50 euros, but we still had to wait nearly forty minutes to get in. That wasn’t the worst thing to happen. Not by a long shot. We ate dinner in the club’s Thai restaurant, but when the waitress brought us our check, I almost choked. She had put a $1,000 bottle of champagne on our bill.
When I protested the charge, I was immediately surrounded by three bouncers, who strong-armed me to a back room and made me swipe my debit card for the entire amount. My
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