Page 17 of Taking Turns

I was in shock, I think. That Rochelle would do this to me. To them, sure. Yeah, I can see it. But to me?

I just don’t buy it. I will never buy into the fact that Rochelle just walked out because… what? She was bored? I have to suck down the incredulous laugh that threatens to escape. Because she and I were not bored. She loved me. I know she loved me. She told me just a few months ago.

It was hot that night even though it was already September. We were at one of Bric’s rooftop garden parties here at Turning Point Club. She was wearing this long, strapless white dress. Tight at the top, but fluttery and flowing from her waist down. Rochelle is tall and she was wearing heels, so we were almost the same height. She looked me straight in the eyes as we slow-danced under the many strings of white lights that Bric has strung up every summer.

Her face was tanned from months in the sun. We went boating a lot last summer. Up in Granby and Grand Lake. Spent our two days a week up there just hanging out like normal people. So the lights—God, she looked so fucking beautiful as we danced under those lights.

“I love you,” she said. Almost absently. Like the words just came out. She got embarrassed then. Hid her face by laying a cheek on my chest.

I didn’t know what to say.

I liked her then. Hell, I’ve liked her this whole damn time. But love… love wasn’t part of the game. We can’t play the game if we fall in love, and I like the game. I was picturing Bric and Smith hearing about her confession. Picturing what they’d say. Picturing them throwing her out. Dissolving the contract. And maybe that’s what she wanted? Why she said it.

But it wasn’t what I wanted.

I love her, I do. I realize it now. But I love her with them, too. It’s a weird arrangement but it works for us. It was working for us.

Wasn’t it?

I had no idea Smith wasn’t even coming to see her on his nights. If he wasn’t with her, then what the fuck did she do every weekend?

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Bric says.

“I don’t fucking care,” I say back. We’re sitting in the White Room having breakfast. There are a ton of people here, like always. All the Club members who work downtown make it a habit to have breakfast here. But we have a table in the far corner, up on a riser so we have a good view of everyone. “I want to know how they made that arrangement. I think, at the very least, we can all agree that there was an arrangement.”

“Yeah.” Smith sighs. He’s looking out at all the people in the restaurant, absently holding his cup of coffee in both hands, like he’s trying to warm them up. “It was definitely arranged.”

“Did she say anything?” I ask him, leaning forward over the table. I need information. I am desperate for more information.

“No,” Smith says. “But…”

Both Bric and I wait him out for several seconds, but I can’t control myself. “But what?” I snap. Smith looks at me and smiles. It’s a small smile. A sad smile. Like he feels sorry for me. “What?” I demand again.

“I went to her work this morning.”

“You what?” Bric growls. “Why the fuck did you do that?”

“I just wanted to help.” Smith is looking at me now. “I was trying to get you answers.”

“Did you?” I prod.

He shakes his head. “It didn’t go well. Was Rochelle angry with you, Quin? Did you guys… fight?”

“Fight?” I ask, almost bewildered. “No. We don’t fucking fight. Do you fight with her?”

“No,” Smith says. “You know how I am.”

Yeah, I know exactly how he is. Doesn’t give enough fucks about anyone to bother fighting with them. “Did you?” I ask Bric.

“No,” Bric says. “We went out a few weeks ago. To a party. She was fine, I guess. Didn’t talk much, that was about the only thing I noticed. Didn’t eat much either. Just picked at her food. Which is a little strange.”

We all smile at that. Rochelle is willowy thin, but she will out-eat any of us when it comes to food. Sometimes she’s vegan. She’s gone through a few of those phases. But she can scarf a cheeseburger like a champ when she’s not shunning meat. She doesn’t take anything too seriously. She goes with the flow. That’s why we all liked her so much.

Or we did. Like her so much. At one time.

“Why weren’t you going to see her?” I ask Smith.

He shrugs and takes a sip of his coffee. “I was done, I guess.”