Chapter 7

The pounding on the door woke him. The faint light of early morning was filtering in through the half-drawn curtains. A quick glance at the clock was difficult with the lady laying on his arm and his watch. He managed to extract his arm without waking her as the pounding continued. It was not even eight o’clock yet.

“Alex, open the door.” Pound. Pound. Pound. He was wondering what he had done to invoke this particular level of pain and suffering. Nothing came immediately to his mind as he made his way to the bedroom door. The pounding on the door only served to highlight his current fatigue.

“Alexander! Open this God damn door,” she screamed, loud enough to wake Samantha.

“Who?” she said groggily.

“Shh, just the boogie man, although I was really hoping for Bonhomme(1) this morning,” he said as he pulled his pants on, buttoning them up as he walked into the great room, closing the door to the bedroom behind him. He was amazed at the pounding the door was taking as he undid the locks and opened it.

“Josephine, what a thoroughly unpleasant surprise. Could you be a little louder, I don’t think Claude heard you and the poor man doesn’t have to get up for work for at least another four hours,” Alex said as she stormed into his apartment. He was about to close the door when he saw Claude stick his head out.

“J’ai pensé que vous avez vidé cette chienne(2),” he said before slamming his door. Poor Claude, Alex thought, knowing it would cost him at least a bottle of wine to mollify his neighbour.

“What were you doing at the house last night?” Josephine asked, spitting venom, as Alex walked over to the refrigerator.

“Visiting, fixing your mother’s manufacturing system. Well mostly. It needs some parts. Someone seems to have broken one of the relays. You wouldn’t know anything about that would you? Wine?” he asked, pulling an open bottle from the refrigerator and a glass from the shelf beside it.

“It is only eight o’clock you drunkard,” Josephine spit back.

“In France, but in California it is barely midnight and conversations with you go so much better with a Burgundy than they do sober,” he said, taking a sip and walking over to the couches.

“Who’s the slut you had with you?”

Alex was annoyed, annoyed at being rudely awoken after only four hours of sleep, annoyed that Josephine was here and annoyed that she was annoying him. Calling Samantha a slut was the last straw and not one he was prepared to take lightly he found to his surprise, regardless of his promises to Monique.

“Did you want something Josephine or do you take pleasure in continuing to make my life miserable?” There was frost in his voice as he settled back on the couch and closed his eyes, briefly hoping she would just go away and take the headache she had created between his eyes with her.

“Why is Mother changing her will?”