Page 10 of Play Dirty

“There’s no hidden meaning, Jordan. No agenda here. Just… watch us. And tell us what you see. How many times do I have to repeat myself before you hear what I’m saying?”

I draw in a deep breath. Hold it. Let it out. And say, “Fine. But I want a deadline. I want a firm date on when this can be over and you’ll sell me the building. Because I’m not fucking around forever, OK? I’m not gonna let you own me the way you own him. Fuck that. Give me a date.”

She closes her eyes. Just a slightly exaggerated blink. Then opens them and says, “Two months.”

“Fuck you.” I laugh. “No. I’m gonna fucking hitchhike back to civilization right now if you think I’m gonna put up with this bullshit for two months.”

“One month.”

“No,” I say. Because I’m beginning to understand that she needs me more than I need her. She’s holding this building over my head, but only because that’s the thing she has that I need. And if I walk away from the building, I walk away from her.

Funny. How you can go eight years feeling like a rejected loser and then suddenly figure out your perception was entirely wrong.

“One week,” I say.

“You know that’s not enough time.”

“Time for what?”

“To get us all on the same page?”

“For a threesome? Jesus, Augustine, let’s just do it now. He’s obviously doing whatever you tell him. Let’s just fuck and get it over with.”

“No, that’s not what I’m looking for. I don’t need a third partner to fuck, Jordan. I could get almost anyone to do that. I want you. With us.”

“I’m here,” I say.

“No. With. Us.”

“Like…” I laugh. “In a relationship?”

“Yes, in a relationship. But a real one. And that takes time.”

“He’s not gonna share you with me, Augustine.”

“No, he’s not. Unless he loves you too. Then it’s the three of us sharing each other.”

“You’re insane. He’s never gonna come around.”

“He’s already around,” she snaps. “It’s you who’s not on board. You’re the one holding this up. You’re the one fighting it. You know we’re good together. And you know this because we’ve been together before.”

“Yeah, once. And he wasn’t into it.”

“You’re wrong, as usual. It was me who wanted you out. Not him.”

“Liar.” I laugh. “That’s not true and you know it.”

“Ask him.”

“I don’t trust him to tell the truth. He’s your little puppet.”

“God,” she says, shaking her head. “You’re so stupid for being so smart. He was the one who loved you, Jordan. Not me. He’s the one who wanted a divorce, not me. He’s the one who made us come back here. And you’re the one he wants.”

I get up and leave at that point. A guy can only take so many lies in the same sentence. Why is she saying those things? I was there. I know what happened. And nothing of what she just said was even remotely true. Not the part about them. I have no clue what drove them apart. Well, I have some clue. It wasn’t Alexander’s love for me.

So I end up outside sitting on a rock by the river, throwing stones into the water to scare away the tiny minnows near the shore.

Alexander comes back some time later. When I look over my shoulder at him, he’s staring at me as he unloads bags from the back.