On Fire by Thomas Anderson
“Achoo!” Kim sneezes in to her cotton mitten.
In the mist that is fast turning into very cold rain, Zak and Kim are rushing to get into the front of their hotel on the left bank. It looms just ahead of them on their left, Christmas lights dangling from the awning, two Christmas trees lined up on either side of the entrance. They have just come out of the subway.
“It’s a long way from California,” she offers.
“Let’s hope that’s all it is.”
They run up the steps to the gold entry doors, hundreds of Christmas lights reflected in their glass, and push their way through to the lobby, stopping at the maple concierge desk for their key. Zak shifts all his bags to one hand in order to take the key from the young woman behind the desk.
“Have a good evening,” the woman says.
“Bonsoir.”
They step away to the elevator.
“I like your French,” Kim says, poking fun at him.
“It would be a whole lot better if I had anticipated this romantic detour,” Zak replies.
“Oh, I don’t know. You seem to be winging it just fine.”
The elevator ride is a short one. Their room is not far off the street. They traipse down the narrow corridor and Zak opens the door to their room.
“Welcome to the Presidential. After you.”
She steps in, clicking the lights on, and looks around. Their opened packs are on the white bedspread, where they were left hours ago.
“I don’t think it’s quite Presidential,” she says.
“Oh yeah? What gave it away? The Micro Bathroom?”
She dumps her things on a side table next to the closed bathroom door, moving a bowl of fresh flowers out of the way.
“Well. It’s Paris, after all.”
He helps her off with her coat and puts his free arm around her.
“Nothing is too good,” he says, kissing her, noticing how her nose is still cold from the outside.
He breaks away, taking her coat to the mirrored amoire and hangs it up before taking off his own doing the same with it.
“I think we should just call Bog,” he finally says flatly.
“I’m going to use the head. Go ahead.”
He looks around the room. All the furnishings, including the headboard, are in a simple maple wood finish. An old fashioned rose flower print covers the walls and is matched by heavy rose patterned drapes allowed to hang on a set of pull backs. The curtains partly cover two white trim period windows with iron grates on the outside. There is the double bed by the first window, a side table and a chair with a caned back beside it. At the end of the room is the armoire and between it and the second window is a tiny desk squeezed between the armoire and the second window. On the desk is a small screen which serves as the television.
Zak picks up the remote control next to the monitor, pushes the chair back, and grabs his e-pad. After a few adjustments he has the phone feeding the foot wide screen and he calls Prague.
“Kemosabe!” fills the room. Bog’s face fills the screen.
“Hey. Is this secure enough?”
Bog looks surprised.
“Oh, like you’re not already blown? I guess I don’t really see the point.”
“Fine. Any new developments?” Zak asks, looking back at the screen, which has a camera mount to sling his image back to Bog.
“Dude! Do you know what time it is here?”
With this, Zak begins to notice that the room is totally dark behind Bog.
“Geez, I’m sorry about that. I guess I didn’t realize. We just got back.”
He sees Bog clicking a remote as well as his phone. The view of Bog suddenly opens up to include the entire room. Zak figures his face is now plastered on a huge screen in Bog’s living room. Apparently, Bog’s been sleeping on the big vinyl sofa there, which makes sense since he said he was staying temporarily at a friend’s place in the old town section of the City.
Bog turns on some subdued lighting, and Zak can make out a glass coffee table and the large screen against the opposite wall standing on a cabinet of various electronics. Down the hall running along the opposite wall is a set of doors to a balcony.
“Taking in the City of Lights?”
“Trying to.”
“Wish I had different news. Nothing has really changed. You can’t go to Dubai,”
“We know.”
Kim comes out of the bathroom in a bathrobe and sits down on the end of the bed, drying her hair with a towel.
“Hi friend!” she says, looking at his image on the small screen in the corner.
“Back at ya! What’s it like there?”
“Cold and wet. Lots of tourists.”
“Yeah, I bet there are a lot of them. Not really my scene,” says Bog.
“Look,” says Zak, “We’re going to need some help here. Can you put the word out?”
Bog gets up, dressed only in his shorts, his tall frame muscular, and walks down the hall, using only his phone.
“I can manage.”
He steps up to a wall of glass and the doors to the outside, unlatching one, and pulling the slider door open. A breeze hits him. He notices that the balcony is lit. There is a table and some chairs, so he takes one. The air is bracing, and it chills him fully awake.
“What do you want me to tell them?” he asks.
Kim doesn’t hesitate.
“Tell them to get over here ASAP,” she says.
“Really? Am I nuts or is this crazy?”
“It’s nuts and crazy, but see what you can do,” replies Zak.
“I’ve got this feeling that Sophie and Gilly will totally freak,” says Bog.
“Of course,” says Kim, “but they’ll freak out in completely different ways. She’ll say no. He’ll say yes.”
“And he’ll win. And she won’t let him go without her,” says Zak.
“Well, we’ll see,” says Bog. The breeze is picking up. He’s starting to feel cold. He looks out at the Prague skyline, half lit even in the dead of night, orange tile roofs running in every direction.
“I’ll see what I can find on your Dubai connect. You really need to start making alternate plans. And guys--”
“What?”
“Wake me when this is over.”
He clicks off.
Chapter 46
In the mist that is fast turning into very cold rain, Zak and Kim are rushing to get into the front of their hotel on the left bank. It looms just ahead of them on their left, Christmas lights dangling from the awning, two Christmas trees lined up on either side of the entrance. They have just come out of the subway.
“It’s a long way from California,” she offers.
“Let’s hope that’s all it is.”
They run up the steps to the gold entry doors, hundreds of Christmas lights reflected in their glass, and push their way through to the lobby, stopping at the maple concierge desk for their key. Zak shifts all his bags to one hand in order to take the key from the young woman behind the desk.
“Have a good evening,” the woman says.
“Bonsoir.”
They step away to the elevator.
“I like your French,” Kim says, poking fun at him.
“It would be a whole lot better if I had anticipated this romantic detour,” Zak replies.
“Oh, I don’t know. You seem to be winging it just fine.”
The elevator ride is a short one. Their room is not far off the street. They traipse down the narrow corridor and Zak opens the door to their room.
“Welcome to the Presidential. After you.”
She steps in, clicking the lights on, and looks around. Their opened packs are on the white bedspread, where they were left hours ago.
“I don’t think it’s quite Presidential,” she says.
“Oh yeah? What gave it away? The Micro Bathroom?”
She dumps her things on a side table next to the closed bathroom door, moving a bowl of fresh flowers out of the way.
“Well. It’s Paris, after all.”
He helps her off with her coat and puts his free arm around her.
“Nothing is too good,” he says, kissing her, noticing how her nose is still cold from the outside.
He breaks away, taking her coat to the mirrored amoire and hangs it up before taking off his own doing the same with it.
“I think we should just call Bog,” he finally says flatly.
“I’m going to use the head. Go ahead.”
He looks around the room. All the furnishings, including the headboard, are in a simple maple wood finish. An old fashioned rose flower print covers the walls and is matched by heavy rose patterned drapes allowed to hang on a set of pull backs. The curtains partly cover two white trim period windows with iron grates on the outside. There is the double bed by the first window, a side table and a chair with a caned back beside it. At the end of the room is the armoire and between it and the second window is a tiny desk squeezed between the armoire and the second window. On the desk is a small screen which serves as the television.
Zak picks up the remote control next to the monitor, pushes the chair back, and grabs his e-pad. After a few adjustments he has the phone feeding the foot wide screen and he calls Prague.
“Kemosabe!” fills the room. Bog’s face fills the screen.
“Hey. Is this secure enough?”
Bog looks surprised.
“Oh, like you’re not already blown? I guess I don’t really see the point.”
“Fine. Any new developments?” Zak asks, looking back at the screen, which has a camera mount to sling his image back to Bog.
“Dude! Do you know what time it is here?”
With this, Zak begins to notice that the room is totally dark behind Bog.
“Geez, I’m sorry about that. I guess I didn’t realize. We just got back.”
He sees Bog clicking a remote as well as his phone. The view of Bog suddenly opens up to include the entire room. Zak figures his face is now plastered on a huge screen in Bog’s living room. Apparently, Bog’s been sleeping on the big vinyl sofa there, which makes sense since he said he was staying temporarily at a friend’s place in the old town section of the City.
Bog turns on some subdued lighting, and Zak can make out a glass coffee table and the large screen against the opposite wall standing on a cabinet of various electronics. Down the hall running along the opposite wall is a set of doors to a balcony.
“Taking in the City of Lights?”
“Trying to.”
“Wish I had different news. Nothing has really changed. You can’t go to Dubai,”
“We know.”
Kim comes out of the bathroom in a bathrobe and sits down on the end of the bed, drying her hair with a towel.
“Hi friend!” she says, looking at his image on the small screen in the corner.
“Back at ya! What’s it like there?”
“Cold and wet. Lots of tourists.”
“Yeah, I bet there are a lot of them. Not really my scene,” says Bog.
“Look,” says Zak, “We’re going to need some help here. Can you put the word out?”
Bog gets up, dressed only in his shorts, his tall frame muscular, and walks down the hall, using only his phone.
“I can manage.”
He steps up to a wall of glass and the doors to the outside, unlatching one, and pulling the slider door open. A breeze hits him. He notices that the balcony is lit. There is a table and some chairs, so he takes one. The air is bracing, and it chills him fully awake.
“What do you want me to tell them?” he asks.
Kim doesn’t hesitate.
“Tell them to get over here ASAP,” she says.
“Really? Am I nuts or is this crazy?”
“It’s nuts and crazy, but see what you can do,” replies Zak.
“I’ve got this feeling that Sophie and Gilly will totally freak,” says Bog.
“Of course,” says Kim, “but they’ll freak out in completely different ways. She’ll say no. He’ll say yes.”
“And he’ll win. And she won’t let him go without her,” says Zak.
“Well, we’ll see,” says Bog. The breeze is picking up. He’s starting to feel cold. He looks out at the Prague skyline, half lit even in the dead of night, orange tile roofs running in every direction.
“I’ll see what I can find on your Dubai connect. You really need to start making alternate plans. And guys--”
“What?”
“Wake me when this is over.”
He clicks off.
Chapter 46