Page 8 of The Perfect Stranger

“Fuck this shit. I’m heading to Pete’s. You coming?” He should have been going home to pack his bags and leave town.

“Go home to your wife and get out of here.”

“Plenty of time for that. You coming or what?” I could hear the disdain already.

I wanted to get out of NYC as fast as possible. I didn’t like the feeling in my gut that shit was about to go down. But looking at Jase, and seeing his need for a drink after almost dying today, who was I to say no.

“Why you drink at the shit-hole mystifies me.”

“There’s worse ways to spend your night.”

“We’ll see.”

“How you doin’, sugar?” the bar waitress asked, yelling above the noise of the music and rowdy patrons. She wasn’t talking to me. She only had eyes for Jase, and he seemingly despite a decent age gap, was lapping it up.

“Not bad, darlin’. Loving the top.” He gestured to the low cut number.

Chuffed by the attention, she gave him a wicked smile and quickly shot up her brows in question before moving to get our drinks.

“What did that mean?” I was torn between confusion and wanting to knock some sense into my friend.

Jase looked up at me while he rifled through his wallet. “What do you mean?”

“The eyebrow thing. You got a thing going on with the bar chick?”

“Her name is Sonia. And so what if I do?”

“Un-fucking-believable.”

“You never know what someone’s life is like unless you’ve been in their shoes.” I knew he was passing the buck. There was absolutely nothing wrong with his wife.

“Thank you Aristotle, but you’re still a dick.”

“Here you go, sweetheart.” Sonia, the waitress, returned with our drinks, beer slopping over the rims. My attention, however, was drawn to a man I could see beyond Sonia. He sat with slumped shoulders and no drink in front of him. His eyes had flicked around the room unsure of his surroundings before they settled back on me. He held my gaze and wasn’t deterred. He looked familiar. South American. But I couldn’t place him. As Sonia took a step back, she blocked the man from my vision.

“Anything else for you, sugar?”

“I’m good.” Jase blew her a kiss in way of thanks and held his glass up to meet mine. We cheered in silence, and I watched over the lip of my glass as Jase drained almost all of his in one eager go. Swallowing hard, he wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and then leaned against the bar top lost in thought. It had been one fucked up day with an even more fucked up few weeks ahead.

After a few moments had passed, he said the last thing I expected.

“Nessa cheated on me.”

“Bullshit!” My response was one of shock, yet Jase’s unusual quiet demeanor had me questioning the revelation.

“Not bullshit. It’s my fault, though.”

“What do you mean?”

Jase stood straight, nerves taking hold. This was unlike his typical cocky behavior.

“We had a boring sex life, you know?”

“Okay?”

“Years of being together, and our careers taking priority, led to sex becoming virtually non-existent. One night after discussing it we made a deal.” He looked to me and I raised my eyebrows in question waiting for him to continue.

“We tell each other our biggest fantasy and we try to make it come true.”

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