On Sunday morning, Alex poured coffee for his lover and his roommate, and watched in amusement as Damian tried to relax around Sheryl, who was in her bathrobe and trying to make small talk with Damian. Their conversation was just beginning to melt into the comfort zone—she brought up artists she liked, a subject Damian of course latched onto—when Alex’s phone rang.
It didn’t show the caller’s name, and he didn’t recognize the string of numbers that came up on the screen. Suspecting telemarketing, he answered with hesitation. “Hello?”
“Hello, this is Alex?” A woman’s voice, a friendly foreign accent. Mostly French, a touch German. Swiss.
His heart thumping, Alex moved into the living room. “Yes. This is Alex.”
“Alex, hello, it is Gerta and Bernard from Lausacom.”
“Hello!” chimed in a m
