Page 33 of Play Dirty

“Don’t be an asshole. Of course I care. She’s not… she’s not nobody to me. OK? I’m only doing this because you two fucked-up assholes wanted it. And you have something I want. It’s a goddamned business deal, Alexander. That’s all. And when I get what I want I’ll leave you two. Disappear just like I did back in LA.”

“You mean leave us to pick up the pieces.”

I huff out a small laugh. But it dies pretty quick. “I said I was sorry for that. OK? And besides, I wasn’t the one who started this all up again. I walked away, you two came back.”

“Hold on,” he says. “I think she’s home.” And then I hear him call out, “August!”

And from some distance away, I hear her soft voice call back. “It’s me.”

“OK,” Alexander says. “She’s here. Go back to sleep.”

And then he ends the call.

There is no sleep to be had.

Not a wink.

So I get up early—like fucking four-thirty—and take a shower to wash her scent off me.

But the whole time, like from the moment he hung up on me to this moment right here, I’m thinking about all this.

Did they plan that? Was that Alexander’s counter-move? Did I just take a knight and lose a bishop?

What kind of game are they really playing?

All I know is it’s two against one here.

Mr. and Mrs. Alexander Bartos vs the state of Jordan Wells’ mind.

Which kinda makes me laugh. Because it’s stupid. But also because that’s how it feels. Like I’m on trial here. Like this is more than a game to be won, but a do-or-die last-chance attempt to avoid the death penalty.

I wish I knew their motive. Why they’re putting so much effort into this little scheme. How could me tearing them apart possibly save them?

And they have to know. They have to know that if they get me onboard, if I ever do really start playing for real, they’re never going to win.

I mean, I’m calling it the Divorce Game for a reason. Because that’s exactly what’s going to happen to them.

I get dressed, skip breakfast, and go to work early, stopping by my office first, before I have to be in court.

Today isn’t too difficult as far as work goes, which is good because I’m very distracted.

I just can’t get the idea that they’re setting me up out of my mind. Like… all this bullshit about them loving me is just that. Bullshit. And they’re actually holding that grudge even tighter now than they were before. This is some elaborate plan to take me down from the inside.

That’s how I’d do it. That’s how I’d ruin someone’s life. From the inside.

And look, both of them went from not-even-friends to instant lovers in the span of three weeks.

I’m in court until noon. I meet with three clients and have lunch afterward with my father—I texted Alexander during a break in the morning letting him know so he didn’t just show up at my fucking office.

“So what are you working on?” my father asks.

We’re eating lunch at his club. No, not a sex club. Just a regular private eating place, I guess. I mean, if we were down in Greenwood Village it’d be a proper country club. With a golf course and riding stables. Tennis and racquetball courts. Shit like that. But this is downtown Denver so it’s basically like a… you know, one of those really nice first-class airport lounges.

They have lots of leather couches and massive chairs with nailhead details. There’s a bar on one end and a buffet of snacks and non-alcoholic drinks on the other. They have a full menu, but it’s not a restaurant. Not exactly.

It’s just a club. A very boring one. But it’s the only one I have right now.

“Nothing very interesting,” I say, studying him carefully. “I got a woman facing a felony trespass charge that will probably get dropped down to a misdemeanor. One asshole who just got his sixth DUI and who totally deserves to go to jail for that, but I took it anyway because his father works for the governor and”—I hold out my hands, palms up—“what choice do I have? And then I have this other asshole. A professor at CU who got caught doing the dirty with a student and is about to lose his tenure. The usual,” I say, trying not to sigh. “How about you?”