Page 1 of The Paris Roommates: Dean
CHAPTERONE
The parrot probably wasn’t his “It” idea, but when the little guy shouted “bœuf bourguignon” in a throaty growl, the hairs on the back of Dean’s neck stood up. He crossed the pet store to give the bird a closer look, because hello, talk about a sign.
That was Paris for you—surprising, captivating, and heart melting—which was exactly why he loved to wander its magical streets looking for inspiration. The food and hospitality company he’d recently formed with his five best friends and roommates, The Paris Roommates Group, was also not his “It” idea, but it was still a pretty damn fine cause, since he got to help his best friends achieve their dreams while also aiding Nanine.
Still…
He needed to find his new hot idea to contribute to the company and keep him occupied, because supplying tech solutions to his friends wasn’t going to be enough for him for the long haul.
“Did you hear what that parrot said?” he asked Sawyer, who was along for the walk. “I knew there was a reason I felt compelled to come into this pet store. I’m not sure what it means, but it’s a sign.”
Sawyer gave a gusty sigh as he came up behind him.“A parrot?”
“This bird clearly knows his French food.” Carefully, he drew closer to the bird, because the parrot wasn’t in his cage—like many of the other birds in the shop. Another discovery: Parisian pet stores weren’t like the ones he’d seen in San Francisco, where the animals were firmly caged. Surely the parrot wouldn’t bite?
Man, this bird was striking. He was no boldly colorful Toucan Sam with a rainbow beak, but his mottled gray-feathered body, black beak, and white-tipped face were elegant. Much like Paris itself. He commanded attention, sure, but how in the hell could he be linked to Dean’s plan to discover his next big idea?
The parrot looked at him and declared, “Orellion abricot,” with a shrill whistle, nodding his sloped head vigorously.
“Holy shit.” The horripilation extended to the skin of his arms as he slid his hand into his jacket pocket,The Twilight Zonetheme playing in his ears. He pulled out the little sack with the half-eaten pastry from his pocket and held it up. “I grabbed a snack from Thea before leaving home. How did he know?”
“Sure, he can detect a hidden pastry, but does the parrot know the important things in life such as the French philosophers like Voltaire and Rousseau?” Sawyer asked dryly, his PhD brain always hoping to deliver up some philosophy.
“Non,” the parrot declared decisively.
Dean laughed in surprised delight. “Me either, buddy.”
“Did he just answer my question?” Sawyer asked in disbelief before shooing a yellow parakeet that tried to land on his wild array of black curls. “Hey! My ’fro isnota nest.”
“But it smells so nice with that coconut and lime shampoo you use. Whenever I shower after you, I want a cocktail.”
“It’s Kyle’s bodywash that slays me,” Sawyer continued with a murmur while Dean studied the parrot, who eerily stared right back. “The bergamot makes me think of teatime and Wordsworth. Old-world deliciousness in a bottle.”
“Wordsworth was the poet, right?” he asked absently, his mind spinning. Had the bird smelled the food on him when he’d come into the store? Could birds smell? And how had it correctly identified the pastry? Then another thought hit him. He’d hadbœuf bourguignonfor dinner last night. Had his lack of showering this morning kept the smell on him? Holy—
“Dude, you need an intervention if you think you’re going to find the key to your ‘It’ idea in a pet store,” Sawyer said, rearranging his gold-rimmed spectacles on his nose. “Don’t make me text Brooke and have her come down here.”
Even the threat of facing their go-getter roommate, who probably wouldn’t want a parrot flying around the house, didn’t stop his mental tumblers from doing their thing. Parrots. Pets. Paris. He could work on a fashion-oriented pet clothing line with Brooke’s help and her Parisian and New York fashion contacts. Pet companions for single travelers…
“Dean.”
Sighing, he said, “Brooke knows I haven’t been as personally or professionally fulfilled since I created that gourmet food app. I want to feel like that again—excited to wake up and see what I built make people’s lives easier and better. Besides, I always listen to my instincts, and right now they’re screaming.”
“Put a muzzle on them,” Sawyer said dryly. “Wait! We can buy one here.”
“Har-de-har-har.” He stopped Sawyer from heading to the pet bondage section. “Do you have any idea how much those entitled tech babies took from my soul after I started doing the whole angel investor and tech mentor thing? When tech first got big, it was an incredible scene. Filled with guys you’d say were like Voltaire and shit. Except their names were less fancy, like Steve Jobs—”
“Creativity is just connecting things,” Sawyer interrupted with a smirk. “Hey, I read Jobs’ book.”
Dean fist-bumped his friend at the mention of his idol. “I didn’t think you read anyone past 1760. But I’m getting off-topic. The point is that greed and entitlement took over tech. There was little fun or creativity in my life. Dammit, my life needs a Paris makeover like Thea’s did.”
“You’ll find it.” Sawyer’s brows knit with concern then. “Look, I’m all for following your gut, Dean, and you know I want you to be fulfilled, but we’ve got our hands full with remodeling Nanine’s restaurant and opening Thea’s bakery. It’s not a good time to start a pet daycare or whatever else is dancing in your head. Besides, great ideas take time. Like great masterpieces. Let’s keep walking…”
“A food-talking parrot might be a draw for the business, Doc.” Since the animal had been tame so far, Dean reached out and tickled the gray feathers under the bird’s neck.
The parrot gave a booming squawk, making Dean jump and Sawyer back into a glass display of freaky reptiles, letting out a girly cry as a python slithered within the tank.
Dean grabbed him and they both exhaled sharply. “Don’t disturb the snakes, man.”
