In Over Her Head by Elsie Russell - Parnasse.com

made an exaggerated embouchure moue, rammed her knee into his
balls, then smashed her foot down on his arches for good measure,
doubling him over in pain, while Ula bugged out at her seat.
Sandro was nowhere in sight. She ran to the bridge and looked
downstream, but no, he wouldn't. He wasn't above on the Pont Royale
either, or the Pont des Arts, she would recognize him even from that
far. Penny ran up the rue Bonaparte to the little café in the Rue des
Beaux Arts: La Charette. A couple students were eating a pile of
pommes frites at a table. The blue jump-suited truck drivers downed
glasses of gros rouge before heading back out on the road. No Sandro.
She ran up the Rue de Seine towards Buci, then tripped on the curb at
the corner and flew smack into a speeding Smart Car. The driver
sputtered profanities at her from his little window but she was up and
running before he could even get out.
Sandro wasn't at L'Abbaye, but Pete was getting ready to leave
with a glamorous date.
"What's wrong, Boca Della Verita?" Pete asked.
"Sandro! Have you seen Sandro?"
"Jane darling, remember the little princes and their pasta-shoota
mama, back in the days? This is his lucky Penny, a.k.a. the Mouth of
Truth. Well, no, dear, I haven't seen him." Pete scratched his stubbled
jaw.
"I gotta find him!"
"Give him a ring." Jane fluffed her mane, impatient to leave.
"I forgot my phone, everything."
Penny had just grabbed her wallet and passport and shoved
them into the pocket of her slick new coat. The knapsack was "dirty
and the wrong color," so it was back at the hotel. Now she didn't even
have a pack of Kleenex, and her hands were bleeding from the
pavement, or the car.
"Here, use mine." The screen icon handed her the tiny
clamshell.
Penny's grabbed the phone with her bloody fingers. "What
happened to you?" They gasped in unison.
"Smart Car." Her fingers were like rubber bananas, numb either
from Dick or from the scrape with the car, so it took a few tries before
she got it right and then it was unavailable.
Pete offered her a wad of crumpled café napkins to wipe the
blood off. That done, she said, "Gotta go, bye," and dashed out around
the corner and down the little street behind the St. Germain cathedral,
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