Page 2 of The Stranger

“Here, I think.” She looks up at the ornate wooden door set into a high stucco wall. “Yes, here.”

“Isn’t this, like, a residential area?” My gaze slides to the row of swanky Hausman buildings flanking the other side of the street. We’ve passed by designer boutiques, foreign embassies, and by-appointment-only jewelry stores. And houses. Big, fancy ones behind high walls.

“Oui. It is the 7th Arrondissement.”

“I thought we were going to a club.” I frown at the heavy, unfriendly-looking door. I can’t hear any music, just the noise of cars whizzing by.

“It is more, how you say, a private event.” Sabine raises her fist.

“What makes you think they’re going to let us in?” My stomach twists uncomfortably. “Do we even have invitations?”

“It is not that kind of party.” She slides a sultry glance my way.

“Really?” Because this address seems to be the heavy cardstock, velvet ribbon, wax-sealed, and hand-delivered invitation kind of place. “It’s not an illegal rave, is it?” I demand as the thought hits. You read about this kind of stuff, people returning from vacation to find their homes ruined. I can’t be involved in that kind of thing!

“Non! This is a very exclusive event and we ’ave invitations from Jay.”

Jay is Sabine’s current crush, judging by the way she’s gone on and on and on about him and his music all night. Which is, apparently, a whole vibe.

This time when she lifts her fist, she thumps the wooden door hard. The echo of her knock seems to vibrate inside me. Or maybe that’s just my anxiety.

“The party’s obviously not here,” I say. Hope.

“I will check Google Maps again.” She sighs and, head down, inputs… whatever. Her thumbs barely lift from the screen when the app’s android voice fills the air between us.

“You are at your destination, Ardeo Lifestyle Club, Paris.”

My heart skips an actual beat. “Sabine? Why did it say lifestyle club—what kind of lifestyle are we talking here? Sabine?”

“Comment dit-on…” she mutters, barely glancing up. “My English is not so good.”

“I understand French,” I remind her.

Her mouth flattens. “Alternative, I think you would say.”

“Lifestyle—a lifestyle club. As in a sex club?” I’m not a complete hermit. I have Netflix. “I can’t go to a sex club,” I hiss. “Are you listening to me?”

“Primrose.” She pivots to face me, “Your sister, she would not have a problem with this. Lavender would say this is a great lark.”

That’s probably true, and for a second, I consider that Lavender might’ve set me up. But she wouldn’t believe I’d still be standing here. In fact, none of my family would. Not our Little Miss Goody Two Shoes. They probably think I’m asexual. That my previous relationships were platonic. But I just haven’t been interested in putting myself out there.

Boys, men. Relationships. It’s all too difficult.

And the truth is, I really hate doing things I’m no good at. Ergo, I don’t do men.

“It’s not remotely funny that you failed to mention you were inviting me to an orgy!”

“It is just a party.” As though I’m a small child on the verge of tears, she pats my arm.

“A party where people have sex.”

“Some people. But an orgy…” She shakes her head.

“If more than four people going at it, it’s definitely an orgy. Google it if you don’t believe me.”

“There is also a pool.”

“Why didn’t you say so!” I throw my hands up in the air. “I would’ve worn my swimsuit!”