Page 10 of Taking Turns

I hold out my arm and she places her hand on it.

We walk out together.

Chapter Three - Bric

Quin is already getting inside the elevator when I follow him out the door. “Hey. Wait up,” I say. I walk in behind him, he stabs at the buttons, and the doors close. “Just calm down, OK?”

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know, Quin. I haven’t seen her in two weeks. Same as you.”

“She planned this,” he says.

And even though I want to say something like, Don’t be ridiculous, or, Don’t get paranoid on me, I can’t. Because there is no other explanation for it. “Yeah.” I sigh. “I think she did. Have you ever seen that other girl before?”

“I didn’t even really see her. I fucked her in the dark and then tied her up and put her in the closet. I have no clue who she is.” He looks at me, defeated and sad. And Jesus Christ, I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. He’s in love with Rochelle. Has been for a while, I think.

“She’ll call,” I say. “Or…” But I trail off. She won’t call. We have rules. We all signed a contract three years ago when Rochelle joined the game. And the rules state she can leave whenever she wants, but once that happens, she will never come back. She will never enter Turning Point Club again. If she ever sees us on the street, she will not engage. And we will not look for her.

“What if something happened to her?” Quin asks.

“Like what? She wasn’t into anything I know of that might put her in danger. She’s just one of those free-spirit girls, Quin. The flighty ones, you know? Not the type to stick around long.”

“Three years?” Quin says, his voice loud and filled with disbelief. “I’d call a three-year relationship sticking the fuck around, Bric.”

“I’m just trying to be nice,” I say.

“Well, don’t bother. It’s not helping.”

The doors open and Quin can’t exit fast enough. He hooks left and the sentry standing guard to Smith’s private bar on the second floor is quick to detach the black velvet rope to let him enter.

I follow and take a seat next to him at Smith’s usual table overlooking the Black Room down below. I snap my fingers for the bartender and say, “Something good, please. Quickly.”

He brings a bottle of Hors d'Age Dupeyron and two snifters, no ice. I pour the drinks myself and then push a glass towards Quin with one finger.

He’s not even paying attention to me. He’s looking down at the party, lost in thought. Questions. He has to have so many questions.

I have questions too, but I’m not very interested in the answers.

So she left? Who cares. I think Smith had a point. It was getting boring. It was getting old. We’ve never had a game going for three years before. It was probably just time to call it quits. It’s not like we even played by the rules anymore. We kept our days sacred, but nothing else. I’m with Smith, I decide. I’m glad she’s gone.

But I can’t say any of this to Quin.

“We talked about it the last time we met.”

“Talked about what?” I ask, then take a sip of my drink.

“Leaving.”

“Her?” I ask. “Or you? Or the both of you?”

“Both of us.”

“What the fuck, Quin?” It pisses me off. “You were gonna skip out on us? And you didn’t think to mention it?”

He looks at me and frowns. “It was just talk, you know? I like her. I like her a lot, actually.” Love her is more like it. I’ve known him long enough to tell. “But it’s a big decision to walk out on what we have.”

“It is,” I say, setting my glass down and letting out a long breath. I look down at the party too. Lucinda is flanked by her husband on one side and Jordan Wells on the other. He’s new and eager. And young. Not even thirty yet.