Page 109 of His Turn

Chapter Twenty-Seven - Bric

“Abrem,” I say into the phone. “Call me back, asshole. I’m trying to apologize, OK? I’m sorry. I fucked up. Just…”

Fuck it. I end the call and slide my phone across my desk. I’ve been trying to call him all week. He won’t pick up. I even tried blocking my number before I call, but I guess he’s not as stupid as I make him out to be. He never picks those up either.

I’ve also tried calling Benjamin, Jason, Candace, and Gaius. None of them picked up. I know Hannah won’t take my call. I vaguely remember her spitting insults at me after the funeral. And I’m not that close with Felix, Delilah, and Keren so I don’t even bother with them… yet. I might have to resort to Delilah if Abrem or Benjamin don’t call me back soon.

I feel like shit. And not because I’ve been drinking since I got home from Montana. I feel like shit for taking Nadia up there. Bringing my problems up there. Using her, and them, and Luc’s death.

Especially Luc’s death. I’m such an asshole. They are never going to forgive me. Ever. I can still see the hurt look on Sylvia’s face. Charity’s disapproving frown. Either of them could be my real mother, which is why it bothers me. I know neither Megan nor Donna is my mother. They came after I was born.

It was a rule all growing up that we had to call them all Mother. We were David Bricman’s children, they were all David Bricman’s wives—though not legally, of course. But in that house, they were equals. And they were all Mother.

I am, and have always been, their biggest disappointment. Not even Gaius or Felix can come close to the disappointment I’ve caused. When I told Chella they didn’t know what I do, I probably lied. Or… pretended, maybe. Either way, they have to know what I do. What I am.

“Knock, knock.”

I look up at the open door of my office and, speak of the devil, find Chella leaning against the wall.

“Can I come in?” she asks.

“Of course,” I say, waving a hand at one of the two chairs in front of my desk. “What’s on your mind?”

Chella takes a seat, crosses those long legs of hers, and smiles at me. “I’d like to invite you to dinner.”

“Yeah?” I say, smiling for the first time today. “When?”

Chella holds up a hand. “But there’s conditions.”

I scowl at her. “What kind of conditions?”

“You have to bring a date.”

“What?”

“Specifically, Nadia Wolfe. She’s the new player, right?”

“How the fuck do you know about Nadia?”

“I met her, remember? At the Club last weekend? And she came into the Tea Room this afternoon.”

“What?” Jesus Christ, this is all I need.

“Looking for me and Rochelle.”

“What the fuck?” I say, more to myself than Chella.

“I guess you guys had a fight?” Chella says. “And she came looking for insight. You know, to try to patch things up between the two of you.”

“No,” I say, standing up. I’m ready to go over to Nadia’s work and tear her up for this. “I’m sorry about that, Chella. I really am. Our game is over and I’m done. She should know better than to come back after the game ends. I guess I just need to make things crystal clear.”

“Bric,” Chella says, still calm in her chair. “Sit back down. I’m not finished yet.”

I sit. Because it’s Chella. I miss her. And Rochelle. And Smith and Quin, of course. But especially Adley. God, I miss that little pumpkin. I’m trying not to think about it too much. And this fight with Nadia and Luc’s death have pretty much taken over my world right now, so it’s been easier to put it behind me.

But holy fuck, I miss that little pumpkin. I don’t want to think about those little chubby cheeks and those fat little hands. I can’t even picture her gummy smile without that empty hole in my chest aching. I wonder if she got a tooth yet?

Please, no. I will die if I miss the sprouting of her first tooth.