“Emily Zola.That's only the second woman I've seen down here. What's up with that?"But before St. Clair can answer, the grating voice says, "It's Emile." We turn around to find a smug guy in a Euro Disney sweatshirt. "Emile Zola is a man."My face burns. I reach for St. Clair's arm to pull us away again,but St. Clair is already in his face. "Emile Zola was a man," he corrects. "And you're an arse. Why don't you mind your own bloody business and leave her alone!”

“Victor Noir. He was a journalist shot by Pierre Bonaparte," St. Clair says, as if that explains anything. He pulls The Hat up off his eyes. "The statue on his grave is supposed to help...fertility.""His wang us rubbed shiny," Josh elaborates. "For luck.""Why are we talking about parts again?" Mer asks. "Can't we ever talk about anything else?""Really?" I ask. "Shiny wang?""Very," St. Clair says. "Now that's something I've gotta see." I gulp my coffee dregs, wipe the bread crumbs from my mouth, and hop up. "Where's Victor?""Allow me." St. Clair springs up to his feet and takes off. I chase after him. He cuts through a stand of bare trees, and I crash through the twigs behind him. We're both laughing when we hit the pathway and run smack into a guard. He frowns at us from underneath his military-style cap. St. Clair gives an angelic smile and a small shrug. The guard shakes his head but allows us to pass.St. Clair gets away with everything.We stroll with exaggerated calm, and he points out an area occupied with people snapping pictures.We hang back and wait our turn. A scrawny black cat darts out from behind an altar strewn with roses and wine bottles,and rushes into the bushes."Well.That was sufficiently creepy. Happy Halloween.""Did you know this place is home to three thousand cats?" St. Clair asks."Sure.It's filed away in my brain under 'Felines,Paris.”

“Anna prods St. Clair's shoulder. "Come on. Weren't you gonna show me that thing?" "What thing?" She stares at him. He stares back. She cocks her head toward Cricket and me. "Ah, yes." St. Clair stands. "That thing." They rush out. The door shuts, and St. Clair shouts, "Lola, Cricket wants to show you his thing, too-oo!”

“St. Clair: So did you enjoy the book?Anna: I did. Did you?St. Clair: I like the author's name the best. Ba-nah-na.”

“Suddenly I register that St. Clair is shorter than Josh. Much shorter. It’s odd I didn’t notice earlier, but he doesn’t carry himself like a short guy. Most are shy or defensive, or some messed-up combination of the two, but St. Clair is confident and friendly and—”

“Da.-Cole st. Clair”