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were his days of going to bars trying to pick up women.
    Although he hadn’t met anyone in the last year, he was happy with himself, Jason and work. Even Janine had become a little less uptight about him. She had agreed to have Jason come over the next day for three nights, so she could go on a business trip.
    John had been working hard, keeping fit. His neighbor, Patrick, had found a nice café about five minutes’ walk from their apartment.
    He was ready at six o’clock and went down to the foyer. Patrick was already there reading a magazine. He smiled when he saw John. “Well, Buddy. There’s some ladies gonna be in trouble tonight!”
    John blushed. “Shut up, you idiot.”
    Patrick was a photographer. They met at a party at one of the other apartments, a month or so after moving in. Patrick kept to himself most of the time, which was to John’s liking, but asked him for drinks a couple of times a month. Always out though, or in John’s apartment. They never socialized in Patrick’s apartment, but John didn’t mind. He just figured Patrick liked his privacy.
    As far as he knew, Patrick was single and looking as well, but was always alone. Maybe that’s why they got on so well. He wasn’t the type to force himself on you. They met for drinks, talked and laughed, ate some food, then went their own way.
    John always thought it was odd Patrick didn’t have a girlfriend. He was good looking, had a good job and probably earned a good salary, John guessed. He figured it was his business, and was glad Patrick never asked him about his personal life either.
    They had conversations about work, but Patrick found John’s sales job very boring. He absolutely loved photography and went on and on about it. He talked about how he had been a photographer in the Caribbean and shot models for calendars and fashion magazines. After a few drinks, he would often tell John about the girls he’d got back to his room after a day of shooting. John could never tell if he was telling the truth, but it was fun conversation.
    They arrived at the café shortly after leaving their building. It was small and well hidden; John wondered how they did any business, but Patrick had found it. He guessed others had as well. Inside was small, or “intimate”, as the owner would describe it. The walls were cream and were covered in artwork, mostly with an ocean theme. There was a bar on the back wall, and about fifteen tables spaced around the room. It was quite plain, but cozy and modern. A door beside the bar led to a small kitchen, which could be seen through a serving window.
    Two tables on either side of the room already had occupants. One, a group of young men were likely meeting there as a warm-up before heading in to town. The other was an older couple enjoying a meal and bottle of red wine.
    Just as they sat, John’s cell phone rang.
    “Is that ring tone Barbie Girl?” Patrick asked
    “No, shut up.”
    A waitress came over and handed Patrick two menus and a wine list. He ordered wine for them both and sat back, gazing appreciatively as she walked away. He looked at John, wiggled his eyebrows.
    He ignored both Patrick and the waitress, and spoke to Janine. He could tell she was worried about something. He knew she never called for idle chat. She finally turned to the subject of Jason.
    “It’s gotten really bad, John,” she said. She was whispering, but John was unsure for whose benefit. “I don’t think it’s natural, talking to himself constantly. He says it’s this friend of his, Christo.”
    “We’ve known for a while he has an imaginary friend,” John replied. “Is it really that bad—I mean how much more is he talking to him?”
    “A lot!” Janine replied. “He talks to him whenever he thinks I can’t hear. Last night, I stood outside his bedroom door and listened while he had a twenty-minute conversation. He was talking about school, games and a whole bunch of other silly things. He spoke about that kid at