Page 45 of His Turn

Chapter Thirteen - Bric

“Hey,” I say when Jordan calls. “What’s up?”

“What the fuck did you do?”

I gather the papers on my desk that I’m working on and shove them in a folder, attempting to straighten up my desk before I take two days off for New Year’s. “What are you talking about?”

“Nadia,” he seethes, like this explains everything.

“What about her?” I ask.

“She’s changed her fucking phone number.”

“Huh. Why’d she do that?”

“You tell me. What the fuck did you say to her yesterday?”

“I didn’t say shit.” That’s not entirely true. I said a lot. But I was only trying to protect him. And she gave it right back. “She ate, we talked, I took her home. We were barely there thirty minutes after you left.”

“What do you mean after I left? That was Thursday night. It’s Saturday, you dumbass. I left you a message Thursday night and told you to show up for lunch on Friday. Play with her a little. She was expecting one of us to show up, for fuck’s sake.”

“Oh, yeah.” I laugh. “Ooops.”

“Ooops?” Jordan is pissed. “I told you I liked her. I told you not to fuck with her. I told you—”

“You know what you didn’t really tell me?” I say, interrupting his rant. “Why the fuck I’m even involved.”

Jordan lets off an incredulous huff that is not a laugh. “I thought we had something good going here, Bric. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe you don’t want to play. Maybe you’d like to find some other guy to share with? Maybe this is over now?”

I take a few moments to think about this. Am I done playing?

No. No, I’m not. And I definitely don’t want to find a new player to share with. Jordan is good enough. He’s really great at some things. We fuck together pretty well. I like the way he holds their legs open for me sometimes. Like he’s offering them to me. It’s hot.

“No,” I say. “It’s not over. I just spaced it, OK? Just… tell her I’m sorry, it wasn’t on purpose—”

“I can’t, Bric. I don’t have time this weekend. I have a client in a lot of trouble. I just got him released from county this morning. The charges are serious, OK? I have to take care of this shit because we’ve got an eight AM hearing on Tuesday. You need to take care of Nadia. Call her up—no, just go over there and—”

“It’s Saturday night, Jordan. She probably has plans. And they’re definitely not with me.”

“Just go over there and be nice to her. You don’t have to fuck her or anything. Take her some flowers.”

“Flowers?” I say. “That’s lame.” There’s mumbling on his side of the phone. Like he’s got his hand over it so I can’t hear some other conversation he’s having.

“I gotta go,” he says. “Go over there. And get her new goddamned number while you’re at it. I’ll call you later.”

I get hang-up beeps.

“Dammit,” I hiss. I was gonna go down to the basement tonight. Fuck, some women who actually like it when I take control. And if Jordan thinks I’m baby-sitting this bitch all weekend… fuck that. Tomorrow night is New Year’s Eve. I will not be missing that party.

I fume about my new responsibility as I grab the phone on my desk and press the button for the lobby.

“Yes, Mr. Bricman?” Margaret says when she answers.

“Get my car ready, please. I’ll be down in a minute.”

“On it,” she says, and hangs up.

I look out the window as I wonder what this night will bring. Maybe I can make Nadia slap me?