Claude Bouchard had been on the phone for more than an hour in the Maple Leaf VIP lounge, to the dismay of customers who were sighing with frustration. No one dared ask him to lower his voice, hoping that one of the lounge employees would come to their rescue. The imposing, middle-aged man with a receding hairline and harsh eyes was yelling at someone on the other end of the line.
A man with a sympathetic face was reading a paper on the other end and absentmindedly watching him with a smile. He understood the aggravation of people around Bouchard, many of whom had picked up their things and moved further away. It was shocking how Claude Bouchard had no regard for others. No matter who he disturbed, he would do what he pleased and screw community living.
The man with the newspaper went ov
