“Look, you may not know this, but I left a message for Mrs. Sexton… about this. She must not have gotten it. For now, there is no question of … moving until I talk to her.”
The giant finally blinks, and his expression changes imperceptibly. He moves away from the porch and shows me the vehicle from which he got out.
“Follow me.”
“Huh?”
“You want to talk before telling me where your luggage is, is that it?”
“Yes… yes, but—”
“Come,” he insists.
I take my courage in both hands and resolve to move forward.
“Who’s in the car?”
Mr. Muscles becomes mute. Is he on a word ration or what? I give him an annoyed grimace. He continues to walk to the Bentley. He knocks on the window, and I can’t think straight when he opens the door and steps aside to make room for me. I don’t want to admit it, but my heart is beating faster, and my legs wobble a little as I lean in.
“Hello, Océane.”
I inhale sharply. It’s her. Just her. Damn, what was I thinking? I relax more or less to reply, “Hello, Mrs. Sexton.”
“Sophia. Get in; we’re not going to drive.”
“Okay, but I… was expecting a phone call, not a young version of Jean-Claude Van Damme in my house.”
The nickname is easy to find because this guy is muscular everywhere but in the brain. The only notable difference is that he is taciturn.
Sophia starts laughing, and my nerves relax. Not completely, because the not-talkative Van Damme slams the door on us and stands outside. We are locked in the car, and the heady fragrance of Sophia infiltrates my nostrils. My attention crystallizes on her, who tries to regain her seriousness after my joke. Her eyes still sparkle with amusement when she says, “You change me so much from social or business discussions, Océane. This freshness… I hope my driver didn’t scare you. I preferred to come in person.”
Well, you’re a nice change from my temporary roommates, too, believe me.
“To be honest, he doesn’t look very friendly. Anyway, it’s probably better to be able to discuss face-to-face.”
“Indeed. So, what’s the problem?”
I moisten my lips and say, “Who are Annie and Byrne mentioned in the contract?”
Sophia’s face freezes; she bats her eyelashes and chases a je-ne-sais-quoi from her pupils.
“As the asterisk indicates, we will eventually see if your contract extends to this subject or not… At the moment, this is not up to date. So, no problem there.”
So my second guess also falls apart. They are not Chihuahuas. Nor real baby tigers, koalas, kangaroos, or other exotic animals that I imagined when I discovered the absence of kids to keep.
Confused, I bounce back, “Conclusion: something not to bring up at this time?”
“Let’s just say that this subject could be a bit touchy. Especially in the presence of Tiger… thought it was important to mention them in case it would come up in time… Just know that in the current state, you have no commitment contractual vis-à-vis Byrne and Annie.”
“Alright… let’s move on to the next one. So, you don’t have kids, right?”
“Right,” she replies under her breath.
“Then why did you let me believe otherwise? What exactly will my role be? I thought I was taking care of your children, helping them with their homework, keeping them company when you’re busy. I mean, you know what I’m talking about?”
She closes her eyelids, then whispers, “That’s a lot of questions in one go, Océane.”
“Lots of gray areas too. I’m sorry, but you cut the interview short, and in the end, I didn’t know what was important. I was convinced that your babies were real ones.”
“Indeed, we have no children. I didn’t clear up this misunderstanding during our interview. I’m sorry.”
No kidding! That’s all?
“Well, I could also be sorry to give up on your proposal… a little too opaque now.”
I’m about to go out, but Sophia Sexton holds me by the arm.
“No, wait for Océane. Apart from this mistake on my part, our interview went well, right? You were excited… motivated, and this would solve both your housing and work problem. Am I wrong?”
“It’s true. However, I am no longer sure I understand why you are offering me this position and what you actually want from an au pair.”
“Okay, let me clarify that. How about seeing it from a different angle? Consider yourself as ‘my guest,’ of course, with a salary to match.”
I stare into her hazel eyes, wondering why she would pay someone to pretend to be a guest at her house. What is this, a kind of charity or fad, a distraction from the bored rich?
“Sophia, I still don’t get it.”
“Instead of a child to keep company, you will keep me company. Sometimes I… Let’s just say the loneliness can be a little heavy some nights when I come home.”
“Oh…”
Is that the thing? Does she feel isolated in her extraordinary life?
“I’m used to hiring personal assistants, but it’s not the same. Tiger is often absent, and it would be nice to be able to share small moments of everyday life with someone real, sincere. And that’s what I perceived from you during our discussion yesterday; you stayed natural, you didn’t even seem to know who we were.”
Busted! I hadn’t prepared for my interview.
“Theaters, trips, etc. Together… A person with whom to open a bottle of wine in front of a movie at home. Does that make it clearer to you?”
Some sort of female companion? In other words, she pays for a friend on fixed-term contracts, at least a banal presence at her side?
Damn! Suddenly, she seems embarrassed to show herself in this light. A beloved personality who seems to have it all, yet plagued by loneliness at the top. It’s crazy. Moved, I moisten my lips and find myself nodding slowly.
“Yes, it’s clearer. But can I ask you a question?”
“Of course, Océane,” she replies, a soft smile on her red lips.
“Why don’t you just invite friends?”
“Friendships are rarely disinterested in my surroundings. I maintain a few, but it remains superficial. And then, Ty… Tiger has his way of working; I have mine…”
Where is the connection? Does he have a say in his wife’s friends?