Page 26 of The Pleasure of Panic

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“The game,” I say. “I’m so fucking sleepy right now. Can we just enjoy this and finish the game tomorrow night instead?”

“What?”

I open my eyes, sit up a little so I can look at his face. “Are you gonna make me spell it out?”

“Spell what out?”

“The game,” I say, getting very irritated. “You know, the one we’re fucking playing right now!”

He cocks his head at me. “What. The fuck. Are you talking about?”

“Oh, I get it.” I laugh. “You’re not gonna break character. OK, whatever. So you got a place in mind for tonight? I mean, if this is my one chance, I gotta take it, right? So I really hope you’ve got this all figured out and I don’t have to make decisions because that was kinda the whole point in playing.”

He pushes me away from him, leans back in the cushions even further, and stares at me. Hard. “You mean… the safe house? How the fuck—”

“What? Safe house? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“The safe house. I’m supposed to take you to the safe house in Silver Springs.”

“Why the fuck would I need to go to a safe house?”

“Uh…” He laughs. “Because you were involved in a drug bust tonight that resulted in you being questioned down at the Federal Building. Not to mention the terrorist connection that came in afterward.”

“This is…” I’m so confused. “This is part of the game?”

“What fucking game? I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“The game!” I yell. “The fucking game! The one I asked to play—well, I didn’t ask to play. Chella made the arrangements. Jordan’s Game.”

“Jordan, your lawyer?”

“Yes!”

“Why are you playing a game with your lawyer?”

“I’m not! He’s…” But I realize I signed a confidentiality agreement. With a lawyer. Who probably takes shit like that very seriously.

“He’s what?” Finn asks. And he sounds kinda pissed.

“I can’t say any more.”

“Why not?” he bellows.

“Because I told you, I signed an NDA earlier tonight so we could talk about it.”

“Who could talk about what?” His tone is angry now, like I’m really starting to piss him off.

“Is this part of the game or not?” I say, suddenly feeling lied to.

“I don’t know what fucking game you’re talking about, Issy. None of what you’re saying right now makes a bit of sense. Are you trying to tell me you just fucked me based on… a misunderstanding?”

“Is that what you’re telling me?” I yell.

He inhales. Deeply. Exhales. Loudly. “OK, we’re talking in circles.”

“All I need to know is if you’re playing or not. And I get it, you have to like… maintain the illusion, right? To make it feel real, or whatever. But seriously, dude. I need to know what the fuck is happening. Because I just let you fuck me!”