From Fling to Ring: A Hockey Romance (The San Francisco Aftershocks)

Chapter 44

LUCY

I kickoff my sneakers and flop back on the shitty little twin mattress in the shitty little Airbnb I found that costs next to nothing.

An incredible find for Paris, but I’m paying for it with a five-floor walkup in what I’m pretty sure was at one time a dingy little maid’s room.

It’s no longer a maid’s room, but it is still dingy.

And yet I’m in Paris. Fucking Paris.

I should be thrilled. The most amazing city I’ve ever been to, not that I’ve been to that many. At least I got to practice my French today, asking for the bathroom at three different bars before someone let me pee for free.

I think about soaking my sore feet in the bathroom’s bidet, because what else is something like that good for when I know I’m not about to hang my butt in it? I fill the little basin with warm water, and, propping myself on the edge of the toilet seat, drop my feet in.

While I do this, I check the fitness app on my phone and damn if I didn’t walk twenty thousand steps today. I don’t know how many miles that is, but I earned these sore feet.

A number of those steps were the hike to the second floor of the Eiffel Tower, as far as you’re allowed to walk up.

I’ve been keeping busy, trying to forget the shitshow I left at home.

First, things just completely imploded with Tyler. I might have almost fucked him over with my book, but he fucked me right back with his stupid bet with the guys. I can’t say which of us is worse, since we both are guilty of shitty things, but talk about a way to kill a relationship.

The second thing that imploded in my life was the SF Freekly. We were all at work one day, in fact, coincidentally the day my story on dirty bathrooms hit the newsstands, when some thugs from our parent company stormed in and ordered us to stop working and get the hell out.

Guess that’s one way to shut down a paper.

Michaela, as she packed her potted plants, looked sad but not surprised. I wonder if she knew this was coming all along and just didn’t tell us. I haven’t talked to her since. I couldn’t bring myself to.

Last but not least, I called my enthusiastic agent, Iris Diamond, and told her I wasn’t writing the book we’d discussed. I told her I’d love to work with her on something else in the future, but how could I continue something where my research told me I was so off-base.

What a creep I was, to put Tyler, and really any guy, into the category of men to avoid. Not that there aren’t men out there who we women need to stay away from, it’s just that I was going about it all the wrong way.

And now I have nothing. Well, I have Paris.

I guess.

Petal’s been WhatsApping me regularly. Actually, she’s driving me a little crazy. I don’t know if she thinks she’s being helpful or is purposely tormenting me, but she told me Tyler’s completely off his rocker and even got into two fights at the last Aftershocks game.

Not my problem, I told her.

I wish I believed that myself.

I also wish I could find a way to watch his games from here. I keep trying to find them online, but no luck so far.

When I’m done soaking my feet, I dry them and pull on the furry socks I brought to wear as slippers. I pad over to my one window, which is actually huge, and watch the street scene below. I don’t have much of a view, but I do look right down on several cafes and restaurants that are full of the energy of people going about their lives and having a good time.

Myself, not so much.

It’s funny. I thought by coming to Paris, I’d be leaving all the crumminess in my life behind. But no. That shit followed me all the way here and in fact might even be magnified, now that I have time to myself and can really ponder it.

It’s so not fair.

I’ve been wandering around Paris in a funk so bad even dogs are moving out of my way. But tomorrow’s a new day. I will meet with a friend from home, really Petal’s friend, who married a French guy and needs a nanny. I’m not a big fan of children, but I’m hoping I land the gig so I can keep busy. Maybe make a little cash.

The good news is, the job comes with a place to stay, most likely a room connected to the children’s, but still, it’s free.

The downside to free room and board, though, as I’ve learned from all the nanny blogs on Reddit, is that you get paid that much less. But what the hell. I was underpaid in San Francisco. Might as well be underpaid in Paris.

The misery just keeps piling on.