“Ouuuuh! Mister Sex gives slaps, Sophia?!” she comments in a mocking tone.
My dearest does not speak another word, and this one collapses almost at the same time. My lips are sealed, and my eyes glare at Blondie. I hoist my wife on my shoulder while piercing the gaze of the alcoholic lady who vacillates.
“The big boss is not happy, she jokes… You want to pose for me? It will relax you! Where is my Instax, by the way?”
I signal Mary, an employee, to confiscate the flashy turquoise camera lying in the grass before this walking disaster finds and uses it.
“Arg, I may have lost it at the showroom… Too bad, beautiful scarred tiger… Uh… You speak French, by the way?”
I walk slowly towards her, my load on my shoulder. She blushes but can’t help but giggle again.
“I’ll take care of Sophia,” I reply in my language, which I’ve been using since the beginning of this disastrous conversation.
“Oh, he only speaks English,” she concludes in hers. “Good… You won’t know what I’m talking about… You should put something on this chest… Mr. Not Funny. Because, right now, if I had your number, I would have sent you a good big eggplant,” she says before bursting out laughing. “You don’t know, do you? I’m sure Louane would have validated what I see through your joggers too. Little lucky Sophia!” she congratulates my wife.
Damn, that was all I needed! I move closer, lean into her ear, and whisper, “I forbid you to swim in this state. Someone will show you your room, and you will stay there long enough to sober up.”
“You… you are not my… boss, first of all.”
“Obviously, my wife hired you. Unless you issue my veto, you will live under my roof. So go ahead and do it! I want you to have clear ideas when we talk again about your behavior, who this Louane is, about everything you won’t tell her, and sexual emojis.”
She shudders as I step back. Her green eyes widen as I tell her all this in her language.
“Shit, you…? French?”
She is drunk, and her pink lips open dangerously. I prefer to take a deep breath and turn on my heels without comment.
“Hmmm, your backside is even more…” she chops behind my back. “These twisted designs make you want to touch them too much… How far do they go?”
I walk away carrying Sophia and order the butler to make sure she obeys. Damn, she’s still raving about my butt as I walk away!
“Oh, yes, yum! Worth a fucking eggplant.”
9
Tiger
Fourth coffee, my mind in turmoil. I smoke the last cigarette in my pack and open a second one, dissecting the financial press. This mental diversion works for a while. I focus on markets, numbers, and strategies to erase from my head everything I have witnessed in the past few hours.
Sophia, blouse open. The lace on her breasts… Blondie, loose mane… Micro shorts, a kid’s bra… Damn, that pearly skin under the cotton fabric… Both of them were drunk… Their undulations… This languorous cadence… The little one unconsciously making advances to me… Her button undone on her lower abdomen… A damn button and a torrent of debauchery promises are trying to get into my skull.
My mechanism must not jam. Not now, not ever.
The ringing of my phone puts my thoughts back in place. Irascibly, I pick up, growling, “Sexton.”
“Hello, Mr. Sexton, this is John.”
I blow out my nicotine puff and run my fingers through my hair, listening to my CFO. Shanna had to give him my message to get back to work. Mourning is fine for a while, but whining about the corpse of your dad for more than twenty-four hours doesn’t sit well with me. I didn’t need to when I lost mine, even as a kid…
I’m going straight to the point, “Shanna briefed you?”
“She briefed me, yes… I’m also calling you to thank you for your gesture. My mother was very touched.”
I would have to ask my assistant, “what did I do” to express my condolences to the family of my employee. She’s the one who takes care of these kinds of details and who determines who deserves how much attention.
“Glad she liked it,” I say.
“And, I was thinking of staying in London a little longer to help my mother, if possible. She can’t handle it. I will be working remotely and will be in Melbourne for the annual Sexton reception… for sure.”
Basically, he doesn’t want to return to the front before next weekend? To see Sexton Sr. parading around, scorning my methods, and being condescending to me to my face despite the dividends he gets from me? I stump out my cigarette and inhale calmly.
“Tell me, John, when did you say to yourself that it was more important for me to have you as a guest of that old fart James Sexton instead of fully assuming your responsibilities as administrative and financial director of my company?”
I feel his breathing suddenly become uneven on the phone.
“Sorry, Mr. Sexton, I thought that—”
“Yes, what did you think? Why did I ask Shanna to tell you what we were up to, John?”
I hear him inhale; I can almost make out the look of disappointment on his face. Does he finally understand?
“Because on the list of targeted suppliers is my ex-girlfriend’s family business. I will be more effective than Shanna in convincing her to give us the majority shares in time to counter Carter,” he summarizes.
“You do what you want. That being said, you are free, John. You can hang around as long as you think necessary in London. You will bear the consequences. Make the choice that suits you.”
I hang up without giving him time to argue. It’s a waste of time. I dig into my hair again and let out a moan. It’s three o’clock, my wife and “her guest” are still sleeping their hangovers off, and I feel like I’m going around in circles in a barbed wire cage.
I abruptly get up from my chair and leave the office to head for the wing opposite mine. I left enough time for Sophia; we need an immediate tune-up! I knock on her door, turn the handle and find her in the same state as when I put her to bed.
“…”
When I try to extricate her from her alcoholic mists, she mumbles something almost unintelligible to me. Words I can’t stand to hear come out of her mouth in a mushy litany. In response, I raise my voice, “SOPHIA!”
“I… need… to sleep,” she grumbles.
“No kidding? Out of the question. Open your eyes and stand up straight. You did what you wanted to do. You wanted my attention? It’s your turn to listen to me carefully.”