Page 24 of Play Dirty

I hope.

“I just want that club, Chella.”

“You should’ve bought it when we were selling if you wanted it that bad.” That’s Smith, who is back now, leaning up against the kitchen island looking like… like a hot dad who belongs on the glossy cover of a men’s magazine. It’s just jeans and a t-shirt. He doesn’t even have shoes on… but goddamn, Smith is the only guy I know who makes me want to be someone other than myself.

And he’s absolutely going to throw me out of his house in the next five minutes, so I need to appeal to his… I dunno, something. Curiosity? Maybe he misses flying his freak flag?

I start there. “Don’t you miss it?” I ask.

“No,” he says.

But in that very same moment Chella says, “Kinda.”

I almost laugh out loud. Because Smith gives her this look like… I can’t even explain it. It’s something in between shock, admiration, confusion, and desire.

I’m not kidding. I got all that from one expression.

Smith blinks. Twice. “What?”

“I’m not saying I want to fuck other people, Smith. But I miss the place. I miss the restaurant, and the bar, and…” She shrugs. “I don’t want to fuck other people, but—”

She looks at me and my eyes go wide, because Smith owns a bunch of gyms now and he’s built like he’s on steroids—except he’s not—because his job these days is basically letting at-risk teenage boys take a shot at beating the shit out of him in the boxing ring to keep them off the streets.

I put up my hands to protest—like, no. I’m not gonna join you two in a threesome—but she says, “That game with Issy… uh-huh. I’m on board with her fantasy.”

Now it’s my turn to blink.

Issy played a game she didn’t know she was playing and most of that had nothing to do with her secret fantasy, which was being fucked in a sex club in front of other people.

I glance at Smith to gauge how he’s gonna take this news, but he’s just scratching his chin, like he’s considering her confession.

Then he notices me noticing him and says, “Get out.”

“Yes,” I say. “I’m leaving.” Usually I’d kiss Chella on the cheek to say goodbye, but no. “Thanks for listening, Chella.”

“Thanks for stopping by!” Chella says. “And thank you for the flowers. Next time we talk I’ll introduce you to the baby properly. But Jordan—” She pauses so I’ll stop my retreat and look at her. “Stop running from them. That’s not you. Just… just hear them out and see what it is they really want. Because they want something and whatever that is, it’s some deep secret they aren’t ready to share yet. That’s my take on all this. It’s shame, maybe. Embarrassment. Something like that. Who knows? But they’re keeping it close. So you just have to wait until it comes out before you can really make a decision about this.”

Then she smiles and Smith has me by the arm and he’s pulling me back down the hallway towards the front door.

When we get there, he opens it up, shoves me outside, and I’m just about to turn and go down the front porch steps when he says, “Here,” and thrusts a plain white envelope at me.

I look at what he’s offering me, then glance up at his face. “What?”

“This,” he says, shoving the envelope into my hand. “Payment.”

“For what? Staying away from your wife? Get real, Smith.”

“No. For killing her father.” Then he smiles. “I owe you one, Wells. So if you ever actually need something—because I know you don’t need money and that’s what that is”—he nods to the envelope as I lift the flap and see a check written out to me. There’s seven digits on that check—“I’m your guy.”

Then he claps me on the back and shuts the door in my face.

I skip down the steps and walk across Little Raven Street to get in my car thinking of all the things I should’ve said back about that little remark. I didn’t kill him, is the first. But then again… I sorta did.

My phone buzzes in my pocket once I’m back on Speer Boulevard heading towards the Country Club neighborhood I live in. When I get to a red light I check it.

Augustine: Before you walk away let me explain.

The light turns green, so I don’t have time to fuck with a reply. But three more texts come in in quick succession.