A Rainy Night in Paris Ch. 07

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 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 ," 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?"

"I have no idea. Why don't you ask her? Did she cut you out again? Not that it is any of my business of course. Is that what this is about? You should know better than to come to me for sympathy and support on that front. I would not lobby for your entry into hell before the Devil himself, Josie, although I doubt I would have to mount a strong case."

"Don't call me that."

She hated Josie. It was what her mother called her and it made her feel like an impotent little girl. Alex had long ago learned to stay out of the power games between Monique and her daughter, but occasionally, even his patience was tested. Samantha chose that moment to come out of the bedroom. She was a little sleep tousled and wearing his Sorbonne sweatshirt which she had pulled down to her mid-thigh.

"So, is this her?" Josephine asked, her tone catty.

"Lay off," he said, already up and walking around the couch. "Orange juice?" he asked Samantha softly, "Or coffee?"

"Both, please," she said looking at Josephine as a mouse might look at a cat.

"Go and have a seat. Samantha, I would like you to meet our most annoying alarm clock, Josephine, Monique's daughter. Josephine, this is Samantha." He was rummaging around in the refrigerator, pulling out juice and coffee, pouring her a healthy glass and taking it to her before starting to work on the coffee, all the while keeping himself between Josephine, who had not moved from the kitchen area, and Samantha who was now seated on a couch where she could see the windows and the kitchen with a slight turn of her head.

"Nothing for me, thank you," Josephine said snidely. "So, did he tell you about his wife?"

"You are not staying," he retorted, "and you know damn well I have never been married," he said slopping water over the coffee machine as he tried to pour it in. Josephine was rattling him and he was not enjoying it.

"I am staying as long as I need too. You have not answered my question."

"Josephine, have you stopped taking your meds? Because this is pretty irrational even for you. If Monique is changing her will, she did not feel it necessary to tell me, either that she was doing it or what the changes might consist of. Therefore, I cannot answer your question and if that is all that is holding you here, then we are done and you know were the door is. If you think you are going to stay and play your games with Samantha, then I may take the option of the door away from you and escort you out the window. Perhaps, if I am lucky, you will hit the garbage truck before you hit the ground. Now get out." He was looking right at her as he said this and there was no question he was angry. His blood was flowing white hot and Josephine was first in line to feel the fury.