Page 2 of The Paris Roommates: Dean
“Don’t piss off the bird, Dean,” Sawyer pleaded, gesturing with a stern look as the parrot started rocking on his perch in a way Dean interpreted as sheer delight. “There’s no way this is your ‘It’ idea. Your background is in tech, not animal husbandry.”
Animal husbandry? Where did Doc get these things from? The parrot lifted his neck and said, “Encore.”
That meant again. His mouth parted in shock. Still, he reached another hand out carefully and petted the parrot’s neck, prompting another squawk. “Did you see that? He likes me.”
“Everyone does,” Sawyer answered with a laugh. “Which is why I haven’t left your crazy ass in this pet store.”
“Word,” he responded, deciding to try his hand at being philosophical. “I learned young that you got more flies with honey than vinegar.” That particular lesson was one he’d picked up from his old man, who was pure battery acid. No kid realizes he’s adopted humor and an easygoing nature as a life management strategy. That came later when Dean was studying successful personality types in business school.
Like was easy—it was love he had trouble with. He was the same way with people as he was with ideas. He liked too many of them and felt attached to too few. With the two women he’d deeply cared about, he’d bombed. At twenty-five, he’d decided it was time to change his pattern and have a serious relationship—with an all-business Stanford grad working in venture capital. Her shared excitement for tech and investment ideas had hooked him as much as her focus, drive, and endless pair of the best legs he’d ever come across. After six months, she’d dumped him, saying he was too immature and flighty—him!—for always having ideas and not following them. She clearly hadn’t gotten him, or so Brooke had told him when he’d flown out to see her in New York City for some bolstering.
His only dip into the long-term pond after that had been with another gorgeous female tech entrepreneur who’d wanted to take her big idea to the top. She’d been a dreamer, like him, but driven. After he’d helped her, she’d broken up with him, leaving the bitter taste of having been used in his mouth.
He’d tried to be cynical, saying love just wasn’t for him. But the dreamer in him wouldn’t let the possibility of true love go. He wanted to be the knight with the lady fair, something Sawyer would appreciate. Being back in Paris, he’d seen plenty of lovers who subscribed to a different philosophy than what was common in the States. They embraced thereally connected, meet your eyes, hold your hand, and kiss like it was your last kisskind of love, and he found he wanted that for himself. But it was seeing Thea dancing on moonbeams from her relationship with Jean Luc that really inspired him to throw off his cynic cape.
A hypothesis had started to form in his mind: people in love were more creative because they were happy. And he wanted both. His “It” idea and the right girl.
He hadn’t told anyone, but he was wandering Paris’ streets on the lookout for her too.
“Doc, you might even say that liking me is an eternal truth of the universe.” He was counting on his appeal to bring him all that he wanted in life. “That Voltaire guy would agree if he were still alive.”
“That Voltaire guy?”Another finch flew toward Sawyer, causing him to duck and hold his head protectively. “I’m dying on the inside after that comment. Can we get out of here now? You know, at some point in the evolutionary cycle, most pets were wild animals, and that totally freaks me out.”
The parrot gave an eerie rendition of a human laugh as if it understood Sawyer, prompting Dean to peer closer. Who was this bird anyway? He was clearly part of Dean’s quest. Perhaps his new companion on his hero’s journey? Maybe like Donkey inShrek?
“Doc, you said you wanted to tag along after you ran into me coming out of Sennelier with your weekly run for art supplies.” He laid his hand on Sawyer’s arm. “Because, dude, aren’t you on your own quest for reinvention as a painter?”
His friend flinched. “No quest to speak of. I’m an art history professor on sabbatical for a year who likes to paint and is helping his friends.”
Tortured is more like it, Dean thought, remembering the constant grimace on Sawyer’s face as he’d painted the décor for Nanine’s restaurant as part of the ongoing renovation. “Soon Thea will come to you with her ideas for her bakery—”
“I don’t want to talk about this,” he said through a clenched jaw, flapping at the finches circling overhead.
No, Doc detested anyone telling him he was an incredible artist, but Dean understood. People could talk until they were blue in the face about how great someone was without it making a dent. You had to believe in yourself and your talents first, last, and always. Dean knew. His mentoring clients had put him through those paces in San Francisco’s tech sector before he’d returned to Paris over a month ago, giving him the final push to close down his consulting business. “Fine. I’m not pushing.”Yet, he added silently.
“Let’s keep it that way,” Sawyer added with a pointed look.
He returned his attention to the parrot. “Maybe he should be the new mascot for PRG.”
“You’re kidding, right? Not a single one of our roommates is going to go for a pet given how there are three adults sharing each floor at the house. And then there’s Nanine…”
“Right.” She’d expressly forbidden animals in the rules she’d laid out when they’d first come to Paris ten years ago to work in her restaurant. “Maybe she’s mellowed after her heart attack.”
Sawyer only cocked a brow. “And maybe she’ll ask Madison for her cleaver if you show up with a live animal.”
The possibility didn’t ruffle him. “Nanine and Madison are strong women, but they wouldn’t kill a live animal.”
“They’rechefs,Dean,” Sawyer exclaimed before muttering something under his breath, causing the parrot to mimic him in French.
“Chefs, did you say?” the silver-haired proprietor asked grandly in English, practically dancing over to them with open arms. “But this is incredible! This parrot worked in a restaurant for decades!”
CueThe Twilight Zonemusic again, along with more tingles.
“In fact,” the man continued, sweeping his hand grandiosely toward the parrot, “this parrot arrived only moments before you entered my store.”
Dean shuddered with crazy energy at that news.
“You may even have passed the former owner on the streets.”
