Page 26 of Closer

CHAPTER TWELVE

DAFUQ?

LEVI

When I wake, the roomis too bright and a woman mills around fluffing cushions on a chaise lounge and straightening furniture as she dusts. I groan and pull the blanket over my head. It’s yanked back. “Rise and shine, monsieur.”

I open my eyes a crack and glare up at her. “Who the fuck are you?”

Her shoulders sag in defeat. “You hit your head pretty hard. Been asleep for too many days. The agent will be by with your paperwork soon, best to shower and shave. I’ve pressed and laid out your clothes.”

My brows knit together, and it hurts. I have the world’s worst hangover. “What?”

“You do not remember? You crashed your car, bought this house, asked me to work for you. I take care of your dog.”

“Dog? I don’t have a dog.” Just then a mangy mutt jumps up on the bed and licks my face. He smells like shit. I shove him away, and he sits back on his haunches at the base of the bed staring at the strange woman as if awaiting his next command. Oh fuck! The car. I sit bolt upright. “Where’s the car?”

“It has been towed.”

“What the fuck?” That’s a three-hundred-thousand-dollar car. “Where has it been towed to? Where am I? Who are you, and what the fuck is this about me buying a house?”

“Not just any house, monsieur. This house,” she says proudly.

I shake my head. “I don’t need a house in the middle of ...” I pause and glance at the furniture around me. “Where are we?”

“La Colle-sur-Loup.”

“And where is my car?”

“In the village, Monsieur.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “The village?”

Fuck me.

“Oui.”

“I need that car back.”

She nods. “Car will be fixed, monsieur. Good as new.”

“No, no, no. Not good as new. It’s a rental.”

“But they have already begun the work—”

“No! Get it back. No work. Tell them to stop work. No work.”

“Pas de travail?”

“Oui, pas de travail.” I exhale loudly. I am so fucking screwed.

“Maismonsieur, you said I work for you.Si je ne travaille pas pour vous, I don't know what I do if you leave. I will be homeless.La banque y veillera.” She rings her hands and rushes towards the bed. “I'm hard worker. I get you anything you need.S'il vous plaît, monsieur?Je vous en prie!”

The dog backs up her pleas with a whine of his own.

“Look, lady. I’d love to be able to help you, but I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing here.”

She begins muttering in French again. The dog and I watch her pace. I have no fucking clue what I’m doing. I have no idea what to say to this woman, so I ask the only thing that makes sense right now. “Is there coffee?”

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