Page 72 of Turning Back

I give Bric a month before he gets tired of Rochelle’s objections with the Club. She won’t put up with it. Not this time. Not with the baby involved.

Bric might not want rules, but Rochelle will.

She’ll get tired of his half-assed commitment. He’ll get tired of her expectations and questions. And then Rochelle and I will have a real talk about what’s going to happen going forward.

Chapter Fourteen - Rochelle

We’re in this forever. Not, We’re in this together. Which is how that saying usually goes.

I sit quietly in the small sitting area in front of the elevator, just staring out the window. Wynkoop Street is busy at night. And during the day as well, I guess. But not in the same way. I can’t see the street unless I stand right up next to the window and look down. So from my chair I can just see the mountains peeking over the not-so-tall buildings.

Adley is sitting on the floor playing with some brightly-colored plastic blocks that she likes to taste instead of stack, perfectly content to explore her new world on her own terms. She’s very easy-going as far as babies go. Easily satisfied, easily entertained, and a champion sleeper. This probably means she’ll be a wild teenager and I will be forced to reflect back on my own wild teenage days, consoling myself with stupid mom-isms like, Just wait until you’re a mother. Or, Paybacks are a bitch, sister.

The buzz of the elevator startles me out of my introspective thoughts and I look quickly over at the security panel. Someone is in the elevator coming up. I don’t stand to greet him, not even when the doors open and he steps into the loft.

“Well,” Smith says, wearing his trademark dark suit. “This place is quite nice.”

“What do you want?” I ask, annoyed. Why does he bother with me? I never understood it.

“It’s my day, right? Fridays? They still belong to me?”

I stare at him, open-mouthed. “Are you joking?”

“I am the one who kept paying. I still have a stake.”

“You want me to fuck you—”

“No,” he says, a disgusted look on his face. “Hell, no.”

“Then what are you talking about?”

“It is still my day, Rochelle.”

“The game is over, Smith.”

“You came back, Rochelle. I might need a refund.”

We stare at each other for several long moments. His eyes narrowed in… I don’t know. Hate, probably. He has always hated me. I could feel his hate even before he started ignoring me. He was never interested in anything. Bric is also like that with me. At least he was. But Bric’s indifference is based on selfishness and ego. Smith’s indifference is based on… dislike. I’m a bad taste in his mouth. A foul smell or that grossed-out feeling you get when you’re walking barefoot in the dark and step on something… squishy.

Disgust.

“How did you get up here with no code?”

“I have the code. I just told you, it’s my fucking day.”

“So Bric gave you the code? He knows you’re here?”

“Quin gave me the code.”

I turn away and find the mountains on the other side of the window again. What the hell is going on? “Well,” I ask, “what do you want to do?”

I catch a shrug from the corner of my eye. “Talk, I guess.”

Whatever.

“Adley,” Smith says, getting down on his hands and knees and crawling over to my daughter. “What are you doing?”

She smiles at him. Like he’s a nice person. And then she waves a red plastic block in the air before putting it back in her mouth.