Page 73 of Taking Turns

“Do not turn that TV off, Chella. Do you understand me? Only I’m allowed to turn it off.”

“Are you here?” My eyes dart around as my heart begins to race at the thought of him being inside the house, watching me like a sick freak.

“No.” Smith laughs. “No. I can’t trust myself to be there with you this weekend. So let’s get this out of the way right the fuck now. Next week when Bric calls you at midnight to have his little how-are-you-doing conversation, you’re going to tell him you want me in the room from now on. Do you understand?”

“What?”

“You heard me. In the room, Chella. Fuck these cameras. I want front-row seats with an all-access pass from this day forward.”

“No,” I say. “That’s not your decision. I’m the one in charge—”

“Is that so?” Smith laughs. “You wanted to suck Bric’s cock in the car and film it for me to watch later? That was your idea? Or was it his idea and you just went along?”

I let out a long breath of air.

“It wasn’t your idea, Chella. You just went along like a good… little… slut. You sucked his cock and swallowed his come and then you painted your red lipstick back on like it’s just another night out. And do you know why it was so damn easy to just go along?”

“Why?” I ask in a soft, soft whisper.

“Because when you go dark, you don’t take a light.”

“Just what the fuck—”

But the call has been ended.

God, he’s sick.

But as soon as I think that thought, I think it about myself as well.

I’m sick too.

We’re all sick here.

Chapter Nineteen - Chella

“You look tired today,” my assistant Michell says as I make a cup of coffee in the employee break room at the gallery.

“I was out late for a Christmas party last night.” And getting fucked sideways. Not to mention the mind games, courtesy of Smith, which kept me up all night long with the video.

“Oh?” she says, sipping her coffee and peering over the rim of her mug, eyebrows waggling. “You were on a date? Why, Marcella Walcott, I do believe you’re keeping secrets from me.” And then she lowers her mug and gives me a stern look. “Tell. Me. Everything. Right now. I can’t believe—”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” I say. And I can’t talk about it, especially not to Michell. Our fathers are friends. I’ve known her for twenty years, ever since she was four years old. And good God, now isn’t the time to bring that complication into the mix. No, I cannot say too much. I need to downplay everything. “Just a date,” I say. “That’s all. Nothing happened. Nothing will. Let’s talk about work. You know, because we’re working right now?”

“Hmmph,” Michell says. “No second date on the calendar?”

I need to be very careful about my lies. How long will this all last? It could be over tomorrow. It could last for weeks. Or months. Or what if—what if it lasts for years, like it did with Rochelle? I wonder what she told people. Did she have friends? I don’t really have friends, I have acquaintances. Like Michell. And Kathryn, the dock manager. But we don’t go out together like girlfriends. Kathryn is mostly just a co-worker. And I only see Michell socially when she invites me to her family cabin every now and then.

Still, if Bric comes around—or God fucking forbid, Smith—I will have to tell her something. They are important men. Men with power and money. Men who make you want to gossip. I don’t really have to worry about Quin much. We’re together on my days off.

“I’m actually dating a couple of people,” I say, trying to make this believable and yet wholly untrue at the same time.

“What? Girlfriend, how dare you keep this from me?”

“It’s no big deal. Just… looking around, you know? Exploring my options. I’m thirty. My chances of finding true love are dwindling day by day.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Michell snorts. “You’re Marcella Walcott. You’re a catch and every guy who comes in here wants to ask you out. But you have this air about you, ya know?” She makes a wide arc with her arms and says, “Keep away. No touching. Unavailable. I’ve watched you turn down dozens of men over the past few years.” She stops talking to catch her breath. “So,” she continues in a low, sultry voice. “These guys you’re dating must be something pretty special.”

“It’s just dating, Michell. In fact, one guy is only about Christmas parties.”