Page 48 of His Turn

“Where?” I ask, pulling forward for the green light.

“Here, on the corner.”

“Please,” I huff. And then I turn right, up Speer, towards the freeway, because I have the feeling if I stop at another light she might get out.

“Where the fuck are you going?” she asks.

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

She shuffles in her seat, looking back over her shoulder at downtown as I ease into the light traffic on I-25 south. “Take me back downtown.”

“Give the car an address,” I say, motioning to the on-screen display on the dash. “And I will.”

“Fuck you. I’m late already.”

“Well, you’re going to be a whole lot later if you don’t tell me where to go. Give me,” I say, my voice solid, commanding, “a fucking address.”

“So you can come ruin my night?” she huffs. But I’ve made her angry. Perhaps I’ll get that slap after all.

“Maybe I’ll make your night better?”

She shakes her head. But a few seconds later she says, “The old tire company warehouse.”

“Why?” I ask. The building is kind of iconic. Old-school, cool logo painted on the fading brown brick. And not far from downtown. It’s been empty for a long time. They’re tearing it down next week to build condos.

“Why do you think?”

“Hmmm,” I say, getting off the freeway to turn left onto Colfax. “Sex club?” I laugh, because I’m kidding.

But Nadia says, “Ding. Ding. Ding.”

“You’re going to a fucking sex club tonight? Nadia, what the fuck? And a transient one, at that? Just what the fuck?”

“I like to play in the dark just as much as you, Elias. I like the transient ones. Keeps it all mysterious and anonymous.”

I reach for her coat and pull it open. She’s wearing fucking lingerie underneath. “Who runs this club?” I ask.

“Someone you know,” she says. Coyly.

“Who?” I ask. OK, I’m there. I’m intrigued. “Not Smith.”

“Baldwin? That boring jerk? Hardly.”

“Not Quin.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

So I shrug. “Doesn’t matter then. Are you meeting men there? Even after our deal? I thought you had fun the other night?”

“You’re playing a game with me. I know what you did.”

“You liked it.”

“I know what you did.”

There’s a little hint of double meaning in her voice. Something dark and ominous in her tone.

“Are you meeting men there?” I ask again, enunciating each word.