Page 78 of His Turn

“I was telling you this last night but you weren’t listening. Humans are violent. You’re violent,” he says.

“I said I was sorry.”

“But you like it, Nadia. That’s my point. You like the violence if you’re the one dishing it out. Which is why I asked if you were abused when you were younger.”

“And then you made fun of me. ‘Did your daddy beat you, Nadia?’” I spit the words out.

“Did he?” Bric asks.

“I told you no.”

“Then why do you like it?”

“It’s a game, Bric.”

“Elias,” he growls.

“That’s all. And Jordan liked it. If you don’t like it, I won’t do it. How’s that?”

“That’s a good start. Because you will not slap me again.”

“And you won’t slap me either.”

“Fair enough. But you’ll miss out on some good sex if you give me that rule.”

I huff out some air. Frustrated.

“Where do you draw the line, Nadia? With the violence?”

“I don’t want to be hit.”

“But you want to do the hitting?”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to. You told me through your actions.”

“What are you? Some kind of psychiatrist? Stop reading into things, Elias. It’s just a game. You said so yourself.”

He doesn’t answer because we pull into a driveway, pass through an open iron gate, and come to a stop behind a black Mercedes.

The Spanish house.

A man in a suit gets out of the Mercedes, younger than Bric but definitely older than me.

“Can you see yourself living here for the rest of your life, Nadia?”

I stare up at the house. Ugly orange, Spanish tile roof. Curved exterior walls covered in white stucco. Neighbors so close you can see into their windows.

“No,” I say, being truthful for once. “I can’t.”

Bric presses a button on his door and his window rolls down as the man in the suit walks up to our car. “We’re gonna pass on this one, Law. Let’s see the next one, OK?”

“Fine with me, Bric. Meet you over there.”

Bric tabs the window back up and we back out of the driveway. The next house is only a few blocks away. The contemporary one. We don’t even bother to pull into the driveway this time, just idle in the street. “How about this one, Nadia?” Bric sighs.

“No,” I say.