She was a dreamer. Naive and gullible. Arriving in this country with her hopes and her dreams. A beautiful despair. I admired her for her courage but felt sorry for the vulnerability that kept her warm at night. I took two deep inhales from my cigarette firmly tucked between my fingers, noticing the chipped red paint. I licked my lips and tucked my platinum blonde wig behind my ear. This wig has seen better days I thought. Mon Dieu! With my legs crossed, I watched as she returned from the loo, little bohemian black american, plopping onto her seat in front of me. "What a beautiful restaurant! I can't believe it." She revealed, smiling. "Yes," exhaling the smoke. " You have to live your life with the best of everything. Take what you want. Deserving nothing but the best." Our waiter returned, a curious looking frenchman. I could feel his judgment piercing my skin. He poured two cups of the best Merlot into our glasses with a look of stench curled in his lips. I smirked, taking another deep inhale of my Gauloise. "Merci, beau cou!" Alice thanked the vile waiter. Exactly what I mean. Can't she see this man only sees us as a black infestation on his country that he doesn't even want us to eat at this french establishment that doesn't even belong to him. So I mimic her. "Merci beau coup!" I want to show this man he is nothing. "Cleo! " "What?! We owe nothing to this man. If you want to survive in this place, You must trust no one." The Pathetic man scurries away after I crush his weak spirit. He is completely offended. She looks at me with her sad eyes. I think I may have hurt her feelings. Which is not my intention. Her big brown eyes refuse to meet mine and her hands fiddle with the cutlery set on the edge of the table. I put my cigarette out and grab her hand. I can sense her uncomfortability and nervousness. I am sure she thinks I am beautiful, but has never felt this way for a woman before. I cannot lie, I have never been so pulled to an innocent and american girl before. In Jamaica, I would be condemned for the life I live. But, I am here. In Paris. Making my way, my way. "What is it?" Alice Bashfully looks up at me and questions, "What do you mean?" Taking a sip of the bitter red wine, I swirl the liquid in my cup and shrug, "There is an energy emerging. And well, it's got me captivated." Slowly intertwining my fingers into hers. She is hesitant. She cuts her eyes away and gazes into the distance. She thinks perhaps she wants to run away. That I am crazy, as I have been told many many times before. Her hand is slowly jerking to be free but she fights the temptation. "Cleo, I've never met anyone like you." "Perfect!" A smile dances across my face and pretty soon we are tangoing together. I want to show this girl the world. This time, I squeeze her hand and pull her face a little closer to mine. Her breathing becomes rapid and I feel the coils on the nape of my neck rise with excitement. I whisper, “When that idiot of a waiter goes to the back with the dirty dishes, we will run to our freedom!” Alice looks as if she has seen a ghost and I cannot help but laugh. I tell her that in 5 seconds, I will walk out of this establishment. If she wants to stay, she is more than welcome to. But if she wants to explore the Paris that is lavish, full of delicious meals, and expensive champagnes, then she will be right behind me as we ditch this restaurant as the queens we are. “Trust me.”