Sienna DiMarco
I was bummed when I heard that Scarlett and Frederick barged in on our lunch date. I had been eager to see the Tower, take some pictures, and walk around Champs Eliseés. Sal had his jaw locked, and he was not angry, but furious.
I diffused the situation the only way I knew how to, the way I had been programmed my entire life -by conceding. We made our way back to the car, and our driver looked at the rearview mirror. “Monsieur?” I bet he was confused.
Sal spoke in perfect French. “Do you know about a five-star restaurant for us?” he asked. Our driver pulled out his phone, dialed a number, spoke in rapid fluid French, and then nodded.
“Oui, they are waiting for you,” he said, and with that, we left the Eiffel Tower behind.
I could see Sal´s tense demeanor. I slowly
