Page 46 of His Turn

That makes me chuckle.

It’s not busy outside. Everyone is ready for tomorrow night. Parties and drinking and celebrations in the street. I have never understood people who want to stand outside in the cold waiting for midnight. Just… no.

Then I turn and go downstairs. Margaret smiles at me as I descend into the lobby. The coat check woman has my coat and Margaret helps me into it. “What are you doing this weekend?” I ask her. She never comes to the New Year’s parties. It’s straight-up fucking on every floor, including this one.

“Hanging out with the grandkids.”

“Stop lying, Margaret. You’re not old enough for grandkids.”

She gives me a smirk. “My daughter and worthless son-in-law are off to the Bahamas tonight. So I’m leaving in about an hour and I won’t be back until all your festivities are over.”

Margaret was the very first employee I ever hired here at Turning Point. She was younger then. Just one grandkid. Now they are big and she is older. We’re all older.

She had just divorced her worthless husband and was looking for meaning in her life. I was looking for… well, not a mother. I have that already. But someone like a mother. Someone who cared and always told the truth.

Her son-in-law isn’t worthless—he’s the vice-president of a bank here in Denver. And her ex-husband isn’t worthless either. He’s the president of said bank.

She’s got more money than she knows what to do with and when she came to me all those years ago, it was with the intention of giving it all away. She’d heard about Smith and was interested in partaking in his little social experiment. She’s contributed millions of dollars to our little help-the-world fund over the years.

For a long time, I thought she came to work for me just to piss the ex-husband off after the divorce. And maybe she did. He might not be worthless, but he is an asshole. We circulate in the same world of big money, so I see him often. But he never says a word to me.

She’s my friend, I realize. Someone who has stood by me from the beginning. And she appreciated the fact that I didn’t try to talk her out of giving that money away. I recall long nights of the two of us talking. What I wanted from this place. What she wanted from the job.

And I guess we got those things because we’re still here.

“Happy New Year, Margaret,” I say, looking down at her with a smile. Her hair isn’t gray. She’s not the going-gray type. And her clothes are well-tailored and impeccable. She’s the epitome of class.

“Happy New Year, Elias,” she says, straightening out the collar of my suit and tucking it under my coat. “Stay out of trouble.”

“I always do,” I say, turning to walk out.

“I know,” she calls after me. But then I enter the revolving door that leads outside and she doesn’t have a chance to say anything else. It’s cold out, but not snowing. My car is only steps away and the valet has the door open on the driver’s side. I slip him a hundred-dollar bill as I get in the car, then close the door and enjoy the heat blasting from the dash.

I always do.

Maybe that’s the problem with me these days?

I pull away from the curb and into the street, weaving my way through the light traffic towards Nadia’s apartment building a few blocks away.

I’m not exactly bored. Not really. But I feel boring making its way into my life. Like a snake slipping in under a door, unseen until it’s upon you.

What are Smith and Quin doing this weekend? “Command,” I say to the car. “Call—”

What the fuck am I doing?

“I’m sorry,” my car says in an unassuming female voice. “I didn’t understand your command.”

No, I think to myself. I don’t understand my command either. I’m pretty sure Quin is hanging out with Rochelle and Adley this weekend. Probably Smith and Chella too. They are having dinner right now. Going to see a play. Or maybe they’re just kicking back at their respective homes, content to be with themselves.

“Why?” I ask the cold night. “Why did you leave me?”

But I know why.

Nadia’s building comes into view too quick. I have an urge to keep driving, but I have nowhere else to go. Just the Club. Just the basement. Just the meaningless sex-filled rooms that might’ve stolen my youth.

And even though it’s a powerful pull… I don’t want to be there tonight. Not without them.

Of course, I’ll go back later. I always do.