Page 113 of Turning Back

Either way, I’m fucking turned on. She’s slapped him twice already. If she ever did that to me, I’d chain her ass to a fucking wall and make her think twice about her domination idea.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Smith says.

“Nothing.” Not my problem. I face the bar again and smile at Smith. “You showed.”

“It’s Chella’s dream. I can’t not show.”

“Well, I’m giving you points anyway. Even if you never make it over there.” We laugh.

“You’re not over there either,” he jokes.

“Fucking women. I have prepared myself for major drama. If these women think the rules don’t apply over there”—I shake my head—“I’m gonna have to set them straight. I’ll pop my head in eventually. Expectations and all. But tea parties are not my thing.”

“Where’s Quin?” Smith asks, looking around the bar.

“Not sure. Don’t think he’s here yet. Kitty’s here though. She’s probably sitting with Rochelle right now.”

“What?” Smith asks, looking over towards the White Room, like he can see through walls or something. “What are they doing?”

“Talking?” I say. “I dunno. Whatever a grandma talks about with her granddaughter’s mother, I guess. I have no clue.”

“And you’re not worried about this?” Smith is giving me an incredulous look.

“Why would I worry?”

“He didn’t tell Kitty that the baby was his, did he?”

I shrug. “Who cares?”

“Because it’s not his kid, Bric. He can’t go telling Kitty that’s his kid.”

“Why not? It’s his mother. I don’t see the big deal.”

“She’s like… everyone’s mother. That’s not the point. The point is, Kitty knows she’s not my real mom, but she likes to mother me, right? And she knows you’re not her real son either. But what’s one more man to take care of in Kitty’s book? She knows Quin is her biological son. She treats him like a son. She doesn’t stay up nights wondering how I’m doing. She doesn’t want to have lunch with you every month. That’s stuff reserved for Quin. And I don’t want Kitty thinking that Adley, adorable as she is, is her blood. Because she’s not.”

“You don’t know that,” I say. He’s starting to get on my nerves.

“I do know that.”

“Look, the allergy doesn’t mean anything concrete. Lots of people have allergies and aren’t—”

“I’m not talking about the fucking allergy test, you idiot.” Smith is actually seething.

“Dude, what is your problem?”

“Rochelle, that’s my problem. I don’t want Kitty thinking that’s her granddaughter because I figured her out a long time ago. I know something about her you guys don’t.”

“About who? I’m so fucking confused.”

“Rochelle, you idiot. Did we ever ask her about her past?”

I think about it for a second because I’m almost positive we did. “I don’t know,” I decide. Because I can’t quite remember. “It was a long time ago. I’m sure we did.”

“We didn’t. And did you ever ask yourself why I really stopped associating with her?”

“You don’t like her. I think you’ve made that pretty clear.”

“Why don’t I like her, Bric?”