“Last night,” I said, “you told me to pack my bags and get out of your house.

Do you remember?

You were very clear about it.” He would not look at me.

“So I gave it some thought, Julian.

And I decided to pack yours instead.”

Twenty minutes later, I stood on the balcony of my own home, a glass of chilled champagne in my hand, and I looked down at the sidewalk five floors below.