Perfect Strangers

“Just because my latest collection features portraits of people grieving doesn’t mean—”

“What did you see when you first spotted me at the café?”

His breathing rough and his nostrils flared, he stares down at me in silence.

“I know exactly what you saw,” I say quietly, looking him in the eye. “And it wasn’t all butterflies and rainbows.”

“I saw a beautiful woman I wanted to get to know.”

“Bullshit. You saw a woman walking around in her own personal graveyard. The same way, I suspect, you’re walking around yours.”

The expression on his face is indescribable. It’s part anger, part frustration, and part horrified surprise.

Because I nailed it. I nailed that damn nail right on the head.

Just as fast as he rolled on top of me, he rolls off. Staring at the floor, he sits on the edge of the mattress and drags a hand through his hair. Unsettled, I sit up, draw my knees to my chest, and pull the sheets over my breasts, watching him.

After a while, he says, “Do you want me to go?”

“I want you to be honest with me.”

His tone is flat. “You really don’t.”

Heat creeps up my neck. I stay quiet for a moment to get my anger under control, then say, “That was condescending and not appreciated.”

He turns his head and stares at me over his shoulder. His eyes are as flat as his voice. “Did you ever see the movie The Matrix?”

“What the hell does that have to do with this conversation?”

“Just answer the question.”

The heat in my neck spreads up to my ears, where it settles, throbbing. “Fine. Yes, I saw it. And?”

“When Morpheus approaches Neo and offers him two pills—a red one that will reveal the truth that the world he knows is an illusion, or a blue one that will allow him to stay blissfully ignorant and return to his old life—which pill would you choose, knowing what comes after?”

I glance at the tattoo on his shoulder, the strange Latin phrase and the rows of thin black lines, and a cold wind slices through me. My mouth goes dry.

James says with hard finality, “You’d choose the blue pill.”

“Is that supposed to be some kind of allegory for you being a red pill?”

“No. It’s supposed to reveal how much reality you’re willing to deal with. Because the truth is that sometimes ignorance is a far wiser choice. Wiser and safer for everyone concerned.”

He stands and starts to get dressed.

Filled with ambivalence and a sharp, unnamed fear, I watch him pull on his briefs and trousers, socks and shirt. He buckles his belt with quick efficiency, slips his feet into his expensive black loafers, and retrieves his rumpled suit jacket from where he discarded it to the floor.

Then he stands gazing down at me in bed, his eyes dark.

“Those rules you made for us were smart. No questions, no strings…it really is better that way. Better for you, mostly, but also for me, because if I didn’t have that framework to operate within, I would’ve already decided that I was going to give you a red pill, consequences be damned.”

He turns and makes his way across the room. At the doorway, he pauses and glances back at me. “If you want to see me again, Olivia, you know how to reach me. And if you don’t, I understand. If I don’t hear from you within two days, I’ll take that as my answer.”

He turns and walks out.

* * *

“Shut the front door!What on God’s green acre was the man talking about?”

“I don’t know, Kelly, but it freaked me the fuck out.”

I pace back the other way in front of the large desk in Estelle’s library, the phone’s receiver clenched in a death grip in my hand. My cell is still in pieces on the kitchen floor, so I had to use a landline.

Though it’s almost midnight in New York, I’m so discombobulated by what happened with James that I couldn’t wait to call Kelly until it was morning there.

“So what’re you gonna do, babe?”

I blow out a hard breath. “Do you think Mike might be able to look into him? Just to find out if I’m dealing with a psychopath or not?”

There’s a shrug in her voice. “Don’t see why not. I’ll ask him right now.” She covers the phone with her hand. I hear muffled shouting, a brief silence, then more muffled shouting. Then she comes back on the line. “He’ll take care of it. Just email me your stud’s name and whatever other info you’ve got.”

“Oh shit.”

“What?”

“I don’t know his last name.”

Kelly snorts. “Slut.”

“I can get it from the building manager.”

“He lives in the same apartment building?”

“Yeah.”