Page 41 of Turning Back

“Me either,” Rochelle says, placing a noodle on the tray in front of Adley.

I watch to see what she does. God, I can’t stand the anticipation as her little fingers fumble for it. She fists it, breaks it in half, then makes another grab. A few jerky movements later she’s got it up to her mouth.

“Ha!” I say. “I knew she’d like noodles.”

“No rules,” Quin says. “I can come here any time I want.”

I shrug. “What do you think about that, Rochelle? No rules? Not much of a game, is it?”

She shrugs, unsure how to play this out. If she says she’s into the game, Quin might take that to mean he’s allowed to play along forever. Happily refusing to admit he’s got a fear of commitment. Or… whatever the fuck his problem is. Honestly, Quin is a catch. He’s a good boyfriend. He’s always been a good Number Two. And he was Number Three a few times, and he was good at that too. It’s being Number One that freaks him out.

He’s absolutely Number One in this game. He just doesn’t realize it yet.

But if Rochelle says she’s not into the game, then why am I here?

Hmmm. What a dilemma. Poor Rochelle.

“How about we all just live here?” Rochelle finally offers.

“Here?” I say, trying to hide my amusement. “Like… just live together like a family? OK,” I say. “I’m fine with that. If you guys don’t mind that I’m at the Club every night doing Club things.”

Rochelle squints her eyes at me. “Fucking other girls? Down in the basement?”

“See, this is why we might need rules, Rochelle. I own a sex club. I have to be down there most weekends. And if I’m down there, I’m gonna be down there, if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t care if you go down there,” Quin says.

“Are you going down there?” Rochelle asks him.

Quin shrugs. “I might. I’m not really a member anymore, though.”

“Ah, shut the fuck up, Quin,” I say. “You’re still a member.”

Rochelle is well on her way to pissed off right now, but I don’t care.

“Well, maybe I’ll have a few extracurricular activities going on too,” she says. “How about this for rules? Quin gets Monday and Tuesday, like always. You get Wednesday and Thursday, like always. And I get Friday through Sunday to myself.”

“Sounds good to me,” I say.

Quin isn’t so sure. “What will you do on the weekends?”

She shrugs. “Whatever I want.”

“Do you want to get paid?” I ask her.

“No.” She scowls at me. “I don’t need your money.”

“Then why are you here?” Quin asks.

Ah ha! I almost don’t stop the laugh.

“I was invited to play a game,” she says.

“Then you have to get paid,” Quin counters. “That’s rule number one. We pay you to do what we want.”

“Fine,” Rochelle says, twirling pasta onto her fork. “Pay me then. Ten thousand a month, each.”

“OK,” I say. “I guess we’ve got all that settled. It’s Wednesday, so it’s my night. But look, Rochelle, I wasn’t expecting this to be the rule. I really thought you’d go for the every other day thing. So I made plans for tonight.”