When she wasn’t in class or completing assignments, she was working at Café des Amis: that meant most Saturdays and Sundays, as well as weekday evening shifts. She often stayed until well after midnight to lock up, then she would be back in by seven the next morning, to serve breakfasts of croissants and coffee, before heading into the Chambre Syndicale for another grueling day. It was a tiring routine, but Caitlin was happy. She was doing what she had set out to do when she’d first come to Paris—living on her own terms. This time she wasn’t compromising on anything. The first Friday, after classes, some of the students in her course decided to head out for the evening. They invited Caitlin to come with them. “We’re going to Hotel Costes,” Brooke told her. “It’s supposed to be really cool.” Situated right in the heart of the rue St. Honoré fashion district, the five-star hotel was renowned for its opulent bar frequented by wealthy jetsetters. As soon as they got there, Caitlin knew the dark, somewhat seedy hangout wasn’t for her.
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