Page 27 of The Last Good Man

“Your phone conversation,” he elaborates.

“Oh, that… It was a wrong number.”

My silly answer makes his eyebrows go up.

“How come?”

“They thought I was someone else,” I say, gesturing dismissively. “I need to freshen up,” I add to end our conversation, and he shows me to the bathroom.

It’s a his-and-her bathroom, which only fuels my suspicion the smooth man in front of me is well-versed in hookups.

From a practical point of view, I can’t be happier for this moment of solitude.

Other than that, I have mixed feelings about this evening.

The one thing I’m sure of is that I want to have sex.

Even robotic, a bit dry, fake sex.

I don’t expect much, so anything will do, but I’m sure Mr. Banker in the other room is experienced when it comes to finding a woman’s sensitive spots.

Other than that,nothing is clear to me.

Am I in danger with the other man?

Somehow, fearwasn’t what I feltwith him.There was an element of fear, but it wasn’t apocalyptic or paralyzing.

It was mostly a fear of the unknown.

I’m irritated with him because he’s territorial, and I’m not used to this type of man.

I also find the situation darkly amusing, which concerns me because I’m usually more cautious than that.

For sure,I don’t want to be the reason this man creates havoc in Thomas’ otherwise quiet neighborhood.

And then, I don’t want to owe an explanation to the man in the other room.

How can I explain the young, crazy, tattooed man who served time for trying to kill his father?

If that is true.

He is a new friend I made at my shrink’s––sorry, psychotherapist’s––office?

And he is acting out because…?

Yeah.

Why is he acting out?

My heart stops for a moment.

Oh, my.

I’ve gotten myself an insane stalker.

I know how these people react.

I’ve seen it on the news and read it in the tabloids. They imagine things and are obsessed with certain people.

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