Young and Revolting: The Continental Journals of Nick Twisp Read Online Free PDF

to the neighbors our most intimate secrets. Well, perhaps she shouldn’t eavesdrop on private conversations, even if Babette and I were screaming at the tops of our lungs.
    Since relations were already rocky, I decided I had nothing to lose by broaching yet again certain delicate financial matters.
    “ Darling, what are we going to do when our cash runs out? Don’t you think we should take my Wart Watch funds that you are holding and open a joint account here?”
    “ That, Nickie, would be foolish in the extreme. French banks are not nearly as circumspect as your fugitive status requires. Do you want to have all your money confiscated?”
    I wasn’t entirely sure that wasn’t an apt description of my present situation. But I realized tact was called for here.
    “ Then how will we pay our bills, darling? Do you have any idea what we spent last week on cheese alone?”
    “ Don’t worry, Nickie. We’ll manage. Perhaps you should think about getting a job.”
    Doing what? Teaching English to Parisian pigeons?
    “ You know, darling,” I reminded her, “since we’re now married all that money in your clandestine accounts is community property.”
    “ Not exactly, darling. I believe common law defines as community property those goods and chattels which the couple acquires after their marriage.”
    Great. I would have to marry the daughter of a sleazy lawyer.
    No sun again today, but the rain had stopped. Tourism has resumed. First we toured the old Opera House, a grand wedding cake of a building ornamented with a voluptuousness bordering on the obscene. I mean those guys had time on their hands for gilding cherubs. Of course, Paris also has a modern new opera house, which nobody bothers to visit as it is boring in the extreme. Next we wandered through the historic Marais district to the Place Vendôme, a classy part of town geared toward the deep-pockets crowd. Sheeni paused to admire a yellow diamond necklace in the window of Cartier that even Donald Trump would have to think about putting on layaway. No question Paris is a fun place, but having a billion or so in the bank would really open the doors to a good time.
    Had kebabs for lunch from a takeout stand. Financially panicked Rick S. Hunter is now insisting on strict economies. Leaving sunglasses at home may have backfired. Stopped three times on the street by Frogs-on-the-make who had long conversations in French with Sheeni about my appearance. One guy made some suspicious notations in his Palm Pilot for which I later received no credible explanation. No E.T. in sight as usual. I’m beginning to think the whole thing is a myth.
     
    THURSDAY, May 20 — I’ve got a job. Madame Ruzicka has offered to hire me as a part-time concierge slave in exchange for halving our ruinous rent. I’m to haul out the trash, sweep the endless stairs, mop the lobby, and generally tidy up the joint. Since no actual cash will be changing hands, we both avoid burdensome government red tape. She conserves euros and adds some cachet to her building by employing a janitor who looks like Jean-Paul Belmondo.
    We had a nice chat in her apartment while My Love was off with Babette getting a stylish Parisian coiffure. Madame Ruzicka likes to practice her English, and I’m always ready for a gabfest with the person who stands between me and homelessness. Hard to believe, but she was once a famous Czech circus star. She had to leap off the trapeze and leave in a hurry when the Russians invaded in 1968. She used to tour with French circuses, but eventually got too old and fat for flying through the air in a tutu. Lots of her relatives are still in the business as the Ruzickas have had sawdust in their veins for generations. She showed me an old publicity still of herself in her prime. Pretty damn foxy, with nary a slack muscle on her curvaceous bod. No moustache either at that time.
    Later, as I was hauling out the garbage cans in my dirty gray apron, two tenants stopped me to make earnest