It was raining. Pouring, in fact.

Thank Christ.

Heath looked out the window of the car and heaved a secret sigh of relief. The Champs-Elysées stretched off in both directions, wide and gray, and the Arc de Triomphe stood in the distance, rain-washed and sorrowful.

He was just not up to another photo-op with Meredith today. It had been all set up, from the carriage ride, to lunch along the Seine, to the romantic walk, to the dinner at the Eiffel Tower at the Michelin Star Restaurant Jules Verne overlooking the city of Paris.

Social media was loving their love affair, in love with how the two of them had re-kindled their youthful passion. All they had to do was let themselves be photographed, and not say a word. Heath had no problem doing this, as he had nothing to say; Meredith enjoyed dropping coy hints with nothing substantive in them, while her cousins and friends let their tongues wag and "accidentally" posted pics on their Insta with Heath and Mer in the background "together," doing innocuous things like sitting next to each other on the bus, or laughing at something on Meredith's phone.

He looked at Meredith, who was sitting next to him in the large, black SUV, disappointment and petulance on her sulky face at being cheated out of her "date" with Heath.

He took her in as she talked to Sally, from her perfect hair, to her perfectly made up face, to her carefully chosen outfit, which showed off her figure, pert and perky breasts, flat stomach, slim hips and long legs, and realized that, generally speaking, she looked a bit too pointy to him.

Pointy?

He considered.

Yes, pointy. She looked vaguely ferret-like in her face, from her narrow, pointy eyes, to her pointy nose, to her pointy, predatory lips, to her pointy, witch-like chin.

Her shoulders were bony, definitely pointy, and there was no denying her breasts were so, so pointy. Then her hips, well, when the bones stuck out like that, was there any other word but pointy?

No.

Moving down to her knees, they were knobby to the point of being, yes, pointy. 

That about covered it, right?

The bitch was pointy.

"Like what you see?"

Meredith's voice, shrill and annoying, broke into Heath's thoughts, and he realized he'd been staring.

God, even her voice was pointy.

"Oh, sorry," he said politely, and looked at Sally, ignoring her question completely.

"So," he continued briskly. "What are we going to do? The show's not until tomorrow, we've got a day to kill--?" He was hoping they'd just get a free day, and that Meredith would choose to spend it in her room with her latest bunch of friends, so he and MJ could spend it in his room and play some music, or maybe just watch a movie. The past couple of weeks had been brutal, with eight cities, covering most of Europe, and everyone was exhausted. They had a two week break coming up, and all were looking forward to it, but a day off now would be very welcome indeed.

Sally looked at her schedule, then at her phone. "Well, unfortunately, I don't think we can schedule anything for the two of you on such short notice. Monet's garden is about an hour away, and it's supposed to be beautiful, but only the house is indoors, the garden and pond and all that is outside, of course."

She looked between the two of them.

"So I guess it's back to the hotel, then?" Meredith said. "There's an absolutely gorgeous day spa downstairs that I can go to with my girls this afternoon, and then there's a club we heard about." She looked at Heath. "You in?" She looked at Sally. "Actually, there will probably be a lot of reporters and photographers there, it's supposed to be really exclusive."

"Oh, the Arc En Ciel, or whatever it's called?" Sally hazarded a guess. "New place?"

"Sounds right," Meredith agreed, shrugging her shoulders. She looked again at Heath. "So? You want to go with us? After the spa? Probably around nine?"

Heath shook his head. "I have some stuff in my head, actually, I'd like to hole up and try to write, just order up some food, you know?"

Meredith shuddered, smiling and shaking her head.

"Sounds like torture, but whatever." She lowered the screen. "Driver? Can you take us back to the hotel, please?"

"What about MJ?" Sally asked.

"What about her?" Meredith answered, typing into her phone.

"Didn't you send her out into the city to run errands for you?" Sally reminded her. "Before all this downpour started?"

"Yeah," Meredith murmured, still typing.

Sally continued to look at her.

Meredith finally finished typing and looked up, giving Sally her full attention.

"What's your point?" Meredith asked, not bothering to hide her irritation.

"We're not doing what we planned," Sally enunciated. "We're going back to the hotel. Shouldn't you check and see if she's finished, so maybe we can pick her up and take her with us? Save her a lot of trouble and inconvenience being out in this mess in a city where she doesn't speak the language?"

"Really?" Meredith looked at Sally for long seconds. "Okay," she acquiesced, typing into her phone again. "I'll find out where she is, I guess." She looked up. "I don't really think it matters, though, you know? I think she said she was going to spend the break kicking around here and Spain and Portugal on a train pass or something, so she must like wandering around, right?" She included Heath in her question.

Heath, who knew MJ was doing nothing of the sort during the two week break, once again ignored her question and looked out the window.

They were still on the miles long Champs-Elysées, stuck in the bumper to bumper traffic, exacerbated by the rain.

Meredith's phone pinged with a text. She read it, and said, "MJ's at the Dolce & Gabbana on the Avenue Montaigne," she said. "She'll be finished in a couple minutes. So should we pick her up? I mean, she can just grab a cab, right?"

"We can at least ask the driver how close we are," Heath said, trying really, really hard to keep the disgust from his voice.

"Phillippe," he asked, not waiting for Meredith's reply, "how close are we to the Dolce & Gabbana on Avenue Montaigne? How long would it take to get there, and how convenient or inconvenient would it be?"

"Well, monsieur, Avenue Montaigne is a, how do you say, a one direction street? So I would have to drive a bit, and come from the other way? So maybe ten minutes? Not so bad, actually, because the rain has made this street terrible, and it would be a good thing to get off it, if you understand?" Phillippe made eye contact with Heath in the rear view mirror and nodded.

"Please, then Phillippe, would you do this? We need to pick someone up," Heath asked, nodding back.

Meredith shrugged, and Heath thought again of a pointy ferret.

MJ was not pointy.

Heath sat back and thought of all the ways MJ was unlike a pointy ferret.

Her hair was so soft and curly, and smelled like soap and flowers. Her forehead was shiny and round, and her eyes were round also, the most beautiful brown eyes, with the longest, curliest eyelashes. Her lips were curved and luscious and round, with that perfect dimple.

Her shoulders were round, curved, gentle, like her arms, and her breasts were like the most beautiful, perfect, soft circles, that moved up and down when she breathed. Her hips were rich and strong and beautiful and full, and moved to her bottom, which was the most perfect and not pointy thing about her, as far as Heath was concerned.

He sat in the car and daydreamed about how unpointy and wonderful MJ was until suddenly he was looking right at her. They were at a red light, and MJ didn't see them yet. She was wearing a red raincoat, and had the hood up, to keep the water off her hair and face. She also was holding a yellow umbrella as extra protection.

In her other hand she had numerous bags, from D&G, Chanel, and Burberry, along with a paper bag that looked like it had some pastries in it. It had a couple of oil spots on it.

She looked like she had her hands full, standing in the rain. It made Heath smile.

Next to her was a bus stop, and there were two old women sitting on the bench, but they didn't look like they were waiting for the bus. They had numerous bags around them, and a shopping cart. Their hair was disheveled, and they looked like they'd been there awhile.

Homelessness existed everywhere, unfortunately, even in glittering Paris.

As Meredith, Sally, and Heath watched, MJ saw the women sitting on the bench, and said something to them. She then handed her umbrella to one of the women, set her packages down, took off her raincoat and helped the other woman put it on.

The light changed and the car moved forward and pulled up to the curb.

"Is your she?" Phillippe asked, gesturing toward MJ, who was now standing, coatless and umbrella-less, soaked.

"Yes, is," Heath answered, laughing as he opened the door.

MJ picked up her bags again, and handed the bag of food to the closest woman just as she got in the car.

"Merci, Ma'amoiselle," the women called, smiling, nodding and waving.

"Oh lord, MJ, you're soaked," Heath announced, removing his sweater and trying to pat her hair dry.

"Oh my god Moose Jugs, my stuff is sopping wet," Meredith said. "Are you out of your mind? Do you know how much it cost? Why would you do something like that? Jesus!" She began taking everything out, checking to make sure nothing was damaged or ruined.

"That Avenue Montaigne is like the most famous shopping street in Paris," she continued, looking back. "I can't believe they just let homeless bums hang out there like that. It's terrible!"

MJ looked at her. "They weren't 'bums'," she repeated. "They're just old people who might have had a run of bad luck. I mean, can you imagine how terrible to have nowhere to go in such terrible weather?"

"MJ, everyone knows it's their own fault they ended up that way," Meredith chided her. "Why in the world did you give them your raincoat and umbrella? It just encourages them to be lazy."

Heath looked at her in disbelief as he continued to dry MJ off.

"Lazy? Did you see them? They had to be eighty years old! What exactly do you expect them to do, lay bricks?" His voice was scathing.

He turned and spoke to Phillippe before Meredith could say anything else. "Please take us back to the hotel, and thank you," he said. "My friend needs a hot bath," he added, smiling at MJ.