The Perfect Stranger

by Marin Montgomery

  There’s a moment of silence, then a strangled voice that doesn’t sound like Lucy echoes through the Bluetooth. “Panties?” and then, “Valet ticket?”

  “Yeah, and both have me seeing red.”

  “He just left both in his vehicle and asked you to take his car in?”

  “Not on purpose. He forgot his appointment, and I’m sure he forgot he had it in the glovebox, and the panties shoved in the backseat.”

  “Why were you searching his vehicle?”

  Exasperated, Stella grips the wheel. “I wasn’t … what’s going on with you? I needed to give his insurance card to the dealership to borrow a car.”

  “Oh.” Lucy sniffs through the line. “I think you’re overreacting.”

  “Me overreact?” Stella whistles through her teeth, “okay, Ms. Overdramatic.”

  “I don’t understand what the problem is or how a valet ticket is a big deal.”

  “You don’t know why I’m mad my husband never mentioned being at The Shock Room a week ago?”

  “He probably had to pay a deposit, Stel,” Lucy offers. “Stop acting like a lunatic.” Hedging, she adds, “Plus, why would that make you mad even if he did go to the club?”

  “It wouldn’t. it’s the lying part that doesn’t make sense.”

  Pointedly, Lucy says, “I think you’re reading too much into it. He has lots of clients that probably like more of a party scene, or maybe he used the valet there and walked across the street for a drink.”

  “Maybe…” Stella concurs, “but he usually doesn’t lie about what he’s doing.”

  “Yeah, I guess. I don’t know Stel, but I’m sure he has a good reason.”

  “You’re right. He isn’t the untruthful type.”

  “Do you have any reason to doubt him?”

  “No.”

  “Has he ever given you any reason to think he’s unfaithful?”

  “Whoa, I never said that,” Stella argues, “I said he’s acting strange.”

  “You mentioned hidden panties, Stel,” Lucy reminds her. “That’s a red flag if I ever saw one. Adam’s whore left a pair as a lovely reminder for him. It was disgusting.”

  Stella sighs, “You’re right, he’s probably cheating. I just want to bury my head in the sand and pretend it can’t happen to us.”

  “What can’t?”

  “An affair.”

  “It can,” Lucy says, “it certainly can.”

  Stella heads to the DMV for a new license, which takes the rest of her morning. She stews over the valet ticket but decides to put it in her new wallet and forget about it for a minute.

  Since she’s a guest speaker at the convention in Palm Springs, the hotel room's being booked, but she reserves a rental van so they can cart some of her boxes. She decides to go to her climate-controlled storage unit to pick up some of the lipstick shades she wants to bring with her.

  Grant buzzes her in the afternoon. “Hi babe, how're you?”

  “Good, just getting ready for our weekend trip.”

  “Crap,” he murmurs through the phone, “that’s already this coming weekend?”

  “Yeah, is everything all right?” Concern etches across Stella’s face as she holds the phone between her shoulder and ear.

  “All good. I just need to fly to New York soon,” Grant apologizes. “Sorry, with all my work commitments, I spaced out Palm Springs.”

  “Oh,” Stella inhales. “Can you still make it or would you prefer I just fly?” She tries to keep her voice level, the ire rising as she grips her phone.

  “Of course I’ll make it, babe. I’ll postpone New York for another week or so. It’ll be nice to have a romantic weekend with you.”

  “Yes, absolutely. What are you going to do when I’m at the convention?”

  “I’ll catch up on some emails. I’ve also got some reading to do.”

  “Perfect.”

  “By the way, the dealership called and my vehicle’s done. I figured they called you too, but if they didn’t, I wanted to let you know.”

  “Thanks. I’ll go pick it up. I went ahead and threw out the trash in it.” She wants to hear him respond, see if this bothers him.

  “Oh, thanks babe. Sorry it was kind of a mess.”

  “Was there anything I should’ve kept?”

  “Well, it would be too late now, wouldn’t it?”

  Laughing, “Yeah, I guess so," she remarks.

  18

  Stella

  Taking the I-10 towards Palm Springs, Grant drives the rental van as Stella acts as the DJ, using their Spotify playlists to pass the time. It’s refreshing to watch the scenery from the passenger seat, the lush greenery and distant mountains always a favorite on this drive.

  Stella can’t remember when her and Grant had a couple hours to just chat and catch up on life. He talks to her about upcoming changes within his company, and Stella fills him in on the meeting with Saks.

  She forgot how easy he was to talk to, and how he was the best listener around. That was her pet peeve with past boyfriends, they always wanted to fix her problems instead of just letting her vent. Grant’s the type to listen intently, internalizing what you say before he asks questions in the end. He doesn’t assume she needs his advice, which is what her other boyfriends tended to do.

  When they reach Palm Springs, it’s early afternoon, and they drive the rental to the convention center, unloading everything in the booth space Stella has.

  She had asked Tess, a twenty-something girl who helps with SMK, to come and man the booth since she will be busy speaking tomorrow afternoon. She’d purchased a plane ticket so Tess didn’t have to drive and paid her for the full day. With it being such a short flight, Tess can be back in LA before anyone knows she’s gone.

  They enjoy the resort and spa they’re stationed at, going for a swim, having a cocktail, and walking around downtown Palm Springs. They act like newlyweds, kissing and holding hands. Stella feels invincible with him by her side, and she can tell the feeling’s mutual.

  After dinner when they retire to their room, they decide to use the spa since it’s cooled down immensely outside.

  “I’m going to be a minute,” Stella hollers from the bathroom. “Go on ahead.”

  Her stomach’s upset, and she wonders if the vodka soda’s the culprit, a change from her usual glass of wine.

  “You okay?” Grant yells from the bedroom.

  “Yep, I’m just putting my suit on.”

  “K, hurry up.” She hears the door slam and she scours through her cosmetics bag for some Pepto-Bismol tablets.

  Nothing.

  She wonders if Grant has any.

  His shaving kit isn’t out on the vanity like it normally is, which now seems unusual to her. He’s always the first to unpack when they stay somewhere, even if it’s only for a weekend like this trip.

  Unzipping his Tumi luggage, she pulls out his gray bag and sliding it open, she rifles through the contents. She finds a pack of antacids and decides this might be her only hope. Unrolling a couple from the pack, she slides one on her tongue.

  Shoving them back in the small tote, she sees a glint of gold. At first, she thinks it’s Grant’s wedding ring, and she’s confused as to why it’s in here. Maybe he didn’t want to get it wet in the water?

  Her mouth drops in horror when she pulls the offending item out. It’s not a piece of jewelry at all, it’s a tube of gold lipstick.

  Twisting the cap off, she stares at a color and brand that’s foreign to her collection. This certainly isn’t part of hers, and it’s not one she’s ever owned, the color all wrong for her complexion.

  Sometimes men carry concealer for their under eye circles. At first she tries to justify it, maybe he wears it as cover-up, but it’s a useless excuse, considering it’s not even a nude color.

  Sitting back on her heels in the closet, Stella’s speechless. She holds the tube in her hand, staring at it, as if it’s a magic lamp that will eventually speak to her and provide some insight into this
odd discovery.

  She feels like she’s going to be sick, and before she knows it, she slams the tube on the ground and manages to reach the toilet before heaving up tonight’s dinner.

  Resting her back against the door frame, she’s uncertain what to do next. Her hands reach back out for the lipstick case, and she squeezes it in her palm.

  A few minutes later Grant appears, his key card beeping as he enters the room.

  Stella’s seated on the floor in a robe, her swimsuit bottoms perched next to her.

  “Is everything okay?” Grant eyes her with concern. “It’s taking you a long time to get to the hot tub.”

  “No.”

  “Sour tummy?” He leans down to touch her cheek.

  “Yeah, I took some of your Tums.”

  “Good, that should help.” He stares at her wan face. “Would you rather chill in the room for a bit to let it settle?”

  “Yeah, I think so.” She waves at the bed. “I’m just going to settle in.”

  “Ok, you want to watch something or should I let you read?”

  “I’ll see what’s on television.” She gets the courage to ask, “What's this?”

  “What’s what?” He looks in the direction of the sliding glass door, not understanding the object in her hand holds the question.

  “This.” She thrusts the gold tube of lipstick at him.

  “Is this a trick question?” he jokes. “It looks like lip color to me.”

  Her brow furrows. “Yes, but it’s not mine.”

  “Okay...”

  “I found it in your stuff.”

  “In my suitcase?”

  “No, your travel bag.”

  “It’s not your lipstick?” he asks it as a question. “It has to be.”

  “This isn’t my brand, Grant. You know my case is silver.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “And this is not a color I’ve ever used or a shade that even comes close.”

  “Okay.”

  “So whose is it?”

  His eyes plead with hers. “I don’t know.”

  “It’s in your bag.”

  “I heard that.”

  “What is it doing in your stuff if you don’t know where it came from?” Her voice is shrouded in anger, “How do you not know? Stop playing dumb.”

  “It looks like a tube my mother used to wear.”

  “She’s been dead for over a year.”

  “Thanks for the reminder.”

  “What am I supposed to do with this information?” Stella frowns. “It’s definitely not your mom’s.”

  “I’m just saying it looks like her old lipstick.”

  “It’s not even half gone.” She opens the cap to show him.

  He holds up his hands in disgust. “Geez, Stel, I believe you, but what do you want me to say?”

  “I want to know why I found a tube of lipstick in your travel bag when it wasn’t there on our last overnight destination and a valet ticket to a club you supposedly didn’t go to.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “When I dropped your wagon off for service, I grabbed what I thought was the insurance information, instead it was a valet ticket to The Shock Room.”

  “Yeah?”

  “It was from a week ago.”

  “I’m not understanding the issue.” Grant runs a hand through his hair. “I had to go get everything set up for your party.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you went there?”

  “Ah, because then it would’ve ruined your surprise, which was the VIP booth.” Grant’s staring at her, first in apprehension, then in distrust. Eyes narrowed, he backs up until he reaches the chair in the corner of the room.

  “What’s this all about, Stella?”

  Point-blank, she asks, “Are you cheating?

  “Of course not.”

  “Then why do I keep getting the feeling you are?”

  “I'm not.”

  “My intuition keeps going off with alarm bells.”

  “Come have a seat.” He pats the edge of the bed. “Come sit across from me. Let’s talk.”

  Stella’s eyes fill with tears as she haltingly makes her way to the bed, her bare feet cold on the terracotta floor. Sinking down onto the mattress, she stares at Grant, at his bright-red complexion and his flared nostrils.

  “Why do you look nervous?” she whispers.

  “I’m not nervous, I’m angry.”

  “About?”

  “Where is this coming from?”

  “I told you, my gut. But more than that, the lies that you’re telling me.”

  “I’m not lying to you. I have no reason to.”

  “Then who does the lipstick belong to?” she murmurs.

  “I don’t know, Stella.” He chews his bottom lip. “Maybe our maid left it?”

  “She hasn’t been to the house in months. I canceled maid service long before I canceled our cameras.”

  “Then I’m as baffled as you are.” Grant opens his palms. “I have nothing to hide.”

  Stella stares down at her new engagement band, the way it illuminates off of just about any polished surface.

  “Look at me,” Grant commands.

  Stella meets his eyes, her blue ones shiny with tears, his chocolate brown ones a tad darker, filled with worry.

  “I have never cheated on you, Stella.” Grant reaches out to hold her hands in his. She stares at her bracelet of choice today, a leather cuff that hides her scars. “And I never would. I love you, and this is hurtful to me.”

  “What is?”

  “These baseless accusations.”

  “I’d hardly call them baseless.”

  “What happened with Dr. Sabin the other day?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I feel like your session unleashed a tirade of emotions.”

  “It did, but not about you.”

  “Then what is all this?” He sweeps an arm around the room. “We’re enjoying a romantic weekend together, and a tube of lipstick and a valet ticket are coming between us. It seems ridiculous to me.”

  “I just have a feeling, that’s all.”

  “Stella.” His voice is thick with torment. “Are you about to have...”

  She interrupts him. “No, I’m not about to have an episode.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “This seems to be the kind of thing that would unleash some negative behavior. Maybe we shouldn't drink the rest of the weekend. Are you taking your meds?”

  “I’m not on anything yet.”

  “What?” Grant drops his mouth in shock. “I thought we agreed that it would be best for you to continue your meds.”

  “Correction, you thought it would be best.”

  “Stella, I want you to be safe, out of harm’s way.”

  “Grant,” she uses his name in the snide tone he hates, “I’m not about to spiral.”

  He nods his head furiously, as if trying to convince himself she’ll be okay. “I just worry when we have conversations like this. If it’s manifesting in your mind and you’re going along with it.”

  “How can I manifest this when I have the evidence?”

  “A valet ticket and lipstick?”

  “And don’t forget the panties…”

  “That belong to you.” Grant stands up from his chair. “Let’s call it an evening. I’m beat.”

  Drained, Stella climbs underneath the covers, grabbing the remote. “I’ll find us something to watch.”

  “Okay, I’m going to take a quick shower.” He heads to the bathroom. Before he enters, he swivels his head back around. “And another thing, I know you haven't been entirely honest with me about your actions, Stella. But we can talk about that when I’m done.”

  Her hands go limp as she locks eyes with him across the room.

  “Uh, okay. Whatever that means.”

  Settling back against the pillows, she tries to focus on the channels as she flips through them, but ice is tr
aveling through her veins.

  How did he find out?

  19

  Stella

  Stella sits in the bed, numb, waiting for Grant to reappear. He didn’t seem angry, but it could be a front. He rarely raises his voice, and even in the few times he has, it’s calculated.

  Towel drying his hair, he comes back into the room, his eyes narrowed. "I’m sure by the guilty look on your face, you know what I’m referring to.”

  She tries not to cross her arms, appear defensive, or break his eye contact. “No, I’m not.”

  “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

  Stella’s at an impasse. Should she just apologize and beg for forgiveness or deny, deny, deny? She wonders what kind of proof he has. That will determine how much she gives up.

  “Not anytime soon.”

  “Don’t you think it’s getting harder and harder for me to trust you?”

  “Probably.”

  Grant pulls on a pair of boxers and crawls into bed, facing her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I knew it wouldn’t go over well.”

  “Exactly. Which is shady as fuck, Stella.” He exhales. “You’re probably going to lie so I might as well save my breath, but how many times before?”

  Stella stares at him, her blue eyes filling with tears. “You really want the details?”

  “If you’re taking money out of the joint account, then yes.”

  Pinching her arm underneath the covers, Stella’s eyes widen in surprise. He’s not referencing an affair; he’s speaking of the ten-thousand-dollar withdrawal she made a couple weeks ago. She just did it in small increments, hoping he wouldn't check. Grant usually pays no mind to the bank account except to pay bills.

  “What did you buy with that money?” Grant shoves a pillow behind his head. “Do I even want to know?”

  “It was an impulse purchase.”

  “They always are.”

  “I wanted to surprise....”

  Grant interrupts, “Did you go to the casino and gamble?”

  Stella vigorously shakes her head. “No, I didn't take the money for that.”

  “Is this another one of your episodes?”

  Stella’s hands clench at the comforter. “No. Can you stop always thinking the worst about me? It’s so frustrating to have you always attack what I can't help.”