Perfect

HARRY
It’s like I’m chasing fireflies.
Every time I think I’m getting close to her, I’m dragged back into some hole. When I’m with her she acts like I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to her but the minute she’s out of sight and with him, I become a stranger. Even now, I’m watching Natalie, sitting on one of the booths with her friends and that guy is there sitting right next to her. From where I sit on the bar counter, I can see him running a hand up her dress and she makes no move to stop him. She’s wearing a really tiny dress that leaves nothing to the imagination, but there’s no doubt that she can pull it off. She’s hot—and her husband, Pierre, he’s pretty regular looks-wise and unless he’s packing more inches than he shows, I can’t think of a reason why he’s so popular with Natalie. What a guy like that is doing with a woman like Natalie, I will never know. Well, he’s got to be loaded, that’s the only explanation. From what I know of Natalie, she has expensive tastes. No way, could she be married to some trash unless that trash had an enormous bank account.
I down my bourbon in huge swallows but no amount of alcohol is enough to kill the pain I’m feeling inside.
“She’s a looker,” a man says, and it’s the first time I notice him sitting next to me at the counter. “You have good taste in women, I’ll give you that.”
I silently swallow more of the bourbon.
“Next round’s on me,” the man says, and turns to the bartender. “I’ll have what he’s having.”
“Dude,” I say, a little angry. “I can buy my own booze.”
“I know that,” the man says. “But I insist.”
He’s got a smile on his face. Upon close inspection, he looks like he’s in his forties and loaded, not unlike Natalie’s husband. And not unlike Natalie’s husband, he also looks like he’s wearing a suit for the first time. Regardless, he’s wearing a designer suit and he’s alone. “Are you sleeping with her?” I ask and realize it was highly inappropriate and none of my business. In my defense, I might be a bit too drunk.
The man laughs as our drinks arrive. “No son,” he says. “I’m just here to meet some friends. Besides, she looks like she has a full plate and I’m not talking about the sushi.”
So he’s seen it too.
Pierre’s hand under the table.
I want to break the glass in my hand into a million tiny pieces but I don’t want to get kicked out of this place.
“Is that the boyfriend?” the man asks.
I down almost half of the new drink before I can respond. “That’s the husband,” I say. “His name is Pierre.”
“Pierre?”
“Yeah. Some kind of old French lineage but his family’s been living in Pasadena for at least two generations. He doesn’t even speak French, not even a little. His name is pretty much the only French thing about him.”
The man is still smiling. “I take it you’re not fond of Pierre.”
“No, I am not.”
“How long have you two been screwing around?”
“Dude. Now you’re really being intrusive.”
“I apologize for my forwardness,” the man says. “It’s just that I happen to know a little about heartbreakers like her.”
“You don’t know her like I do. No one does.”
“My name’s Harlow,” the man introduces himself, clearly to change the subject. “I’ve recently joined a company in Springvale, Indiana and they sent me here to deal with some pissed off clients. Needless to say I’m not looking forward to it.”
“Harry.”
“Excuse me?”
“My name,” I say, finishing the drink in one go. “It’s Harry.”
“Nice to meet you, Harry.”
“Sure,” I say, and suddenly I feel warm. The alcohol seems to have hit me faster than I realized and it scares me a little because I feel dizzy. I lift my hands, and see about six of them which I know is wrong. A feeling of panic is slowly beginning to get a hold of me, and all I want is to get away from this place. But before I can get up, I see the bottom of my empty glass. In it I see the remains of what must have been a white pill, or several white pills. Suddenly, I realize my mistake. “You drugged me.”
I’m trying to say more but no words will come out.
It’s like they’re stuck in my throat.
I get up but I’ve barely moved a few inches away from the counter when my knees give up and I fall to the floor. Harlow, if that’s even his real name, is there and he helps me up, almost carries me away from the bar.
“You drugged me!” I keep saying but I don’t even know if I’m speaking aloud or it’s just in my head because the world is just a big blur and I’m trying to find something to focus on but I can’t. I can feel Harlow’s still around, and he must be fucking strong to be dragging me around this way because I know I’m no longer able to stand on my own two feet.
“Is this your room?” Harlow’s voice comes from out of some tunnel and I can’t tell if he’s actually there or if it’s all just a dream. That warm feeling hasn’t gone away, in fact my heart is racing, and my whole body feels like it’s burning up.
I feel something soft, under my back and under my head. It’s a bed, a pillow maybe. I can only guess. And then I feel a female’s presence in the room. Chanel. Natalie.
“Nat…”
“Baby,” she says, and I feel her long nails going over my face. “I’m right here.”
“That man,” I say. “He tried to drug me…Nat…”
Natalie unzips me and I can feel her yanking my pants off. When I glance to one side, there’s a silhouette; a male, for all I know it could be Harlow; I have no idea because all I can see is the vague shape of someone watching from the shadows. The room is dark and when Natalie unbuttons my shirt, she digs her nails into my chest, a bit too harsh and I groan. But then she’s trying to get me off and I can’t help but feel the insane pleasure that she’s giving me and I know I’m going right over the edge…

Notes