Page 19 of Taking Turns

“Quin,” Bric says, his voice stern. “Go fuck a whore if you—”

“Fuck you,” I say.

“You know what I mean. Get this out of your system. Then come back here on Friday and we’ll figure out a way to fill your two nights. OK?”

I don’t answer.

“Go upstairs. Take what you want. And then I’ll make it all go away. It will be fine. Do you need something to do tonight? For real. Because I have an event and I’ll bring you along.”

“No,” I say, smiling. “I’m not tagging along to one of your stupid events.”

He’s quiet for a few seconds and when I look up at him, he’s staring at me.

“What?”

“Don’t let her fuck with your head, OK? And don't take anything Smith says seriously. She didn’t leave you. She left us.”

“I know,” I say. But it doesn’t feel that way at all. Maybe if I didn’t know that Smith left her a long time ago, and that Bric was indifferent, then maybe I could talk myself into that. He’s right. We’ve had other girls leave. Girls I wasn’t too attached to, but Bric was. Smith doesn’t get attached to anyone. And I never thought the others left because of Bric. They left us. Just like Rochelle.

God. I wish I could believe that.

I just know it’s not true. She left because of me. She left because she said she loved me and I shrugged it off. Ignored it. Pretended it never happened. And I know if I explained that to Bric, he’d get it. He’d understand. But what’s the point? Why bother?

Rochelle is gone.

“OK,” I say, standing up. “I am gonna go upstairs. Check it out. See if she left anything behind.”

“Quin—”

“But then,” I say, interrupting him. “But then, either way, I’ll let her go. By Friday I’ll have let her go.” I’m looking at the card as I say all this. “It would help if I could just talk to her though.” I’m nodding at the woman’s business card.

“No,” Bric says. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. But if you want, I’ll go talk to her. I’m sure Smith was just his usual asshole self. No one wants to talk to him, right?”

“OK,” I say, giving in. “Fine. See what you can find out and then call me later.”

“Will do, brother.”

I walk out of the restaurant and head toward the stairs at the back of the lobby. There’s no black rope today. Club members have private rooms upstairs and they are free to use them during the week. But there are guards, all dressed up in thousand-dollar suits, standing sentry. They nod at me as I pass. “Mr. Foster,” they both say.

I nod back, but keep silent as I make my way up to the elevator. When the doors open, I step in, insert my cardkey and unlock the floor to our forbidden world.

When I get up there it doesn’t feel any different. I sit in Smith’s chair, the one in front of the window, and then get up and turn it around so I can take in the only view I’m interested in. The couches. The art on the walls. The rugs, and throw pillows, and the heavy drapes.

When Rochelle moved in, it was empty. Just like it will be again when the new girl moves in. All these things, all these memories, all these feelings will be put away with the rest of her stuff. Into storage, or taken to the Goodwill store. Wherever Bric puts their stuff when they leave.

I’ve had a lot of fun here. But Bric is right. I had a lot of fun with many girls here. Most of them don’t last very long. Six months. A year. And then they have what they came for and they leave.

But I cannot recall a single time that I felt this… sad about it.

“Rochelle,” I say. “God, I miss you. Two weeks was way too long. What were you doing? Were you planning your escape? Why did I ever agree to the sabbaticals?”

Even though I hate to admit it, Smith was right. That time off, it was a symptom of something else. A disease eating away at her, or me, or us. Whichever. Does it matter?

No, I don’t think it does.

I get up and walk around the apartment. Picking things up. Touching them. The whole place smells like her. That earthy scent that reminded me of the river or the lake. The time we spent together last summer.

Outside the day is gray and dim. The snow is still coming down, but just a light dusting of flakes. A threat, I realize. Or something else. Something bigger coming over the mountains.