Page 38 of Play Dirty

Then the knock. He enters, smiling.

“How did it go?” I ask.

“Fine,” he says. “Just fine. Don’t worry. I’m not worried.”

“Well… what’s the issue?” I ask. “Like what do they think is wrong?” He never told me last night.

My father shakes his head, still smiling. “Let’s talk about that when we have to. If we have to. There’s no point in getting upset over something that’s not happening.”

“Dad—”

“No,” he says, putting up a hand to stop me. “I’m fine, Jordan. Just… we’ll see what the tests say.”

At four o’clock my phone buzzes a text. I’ve been sitting in my office staring at my closed door for the past hour, wondering what’s wrong with my father. He’s been in a good mood since he came back. I can hear him right now. Laughing down the hallway in the conference room. There’s a deposition, but it hasn’t started yet, so he’s just chatting with opposing counsel.

I feel a little better that he’s in good spirits, but not much.

I glance down at my phone screen to log the incoming text. It’s an address. Augustine and Alexander’s address, I can only presume.

Then… Dinner is at 6 pops up underneath the address and it’s confirmed.

I don’t answer and there are no more texts.

I just sit at my desk and stare at my door.

But at five-thirty Eileen buzzes my desk phone. “Jordan? I’m leaving. Do you need anything?”

Eileen is a nice woman and a competent assistant. About thirty-five, I guess. I never asked her. Short dark hair that hangs alongside her heart-shaped face and ends at her shoulders. Curvy, pretty, and smart.

I wonder what she thinks about me? She has to know I’m running these games. I mean it’s not really a secret. Plenty of people know. Enough that I get regular inquiries. And my father knows. I told him. He said just keep it legal and I have.

Mostly.

But the illegal parts are only there to keep people safe.

I press the speaker button on the phone and say, “No, I’m good, Eileen. Thanks. See you tomorrow.”

She sighs on the other end. “Is everything OK?”

“Yup,” I lie. Because really? What am I going to say to my assistant? We’re not that kind of co-workers, ya know? Some people have an assistant as their right-hand man. Or woman. But Eileen isn’t that kind of assistant. Darrel is that kind of assistant. And Darrel and Finn are off doing other things right now. Besides, none of what’s happening to me right now is the kind of thing you discuss with an assistant like Darrel either. “I’m fine, really,” I say. “See you tomorrow.”

“OK. Have a good night.”

“You too.” And then I press the speaker button again.

What would a good night look like for me?

The question pops into my mind unexpectedly.

When was the last time I had a good night?

Jesus, probably back when the Club was still open. Since then I’ve been biding my time with these games, my friendship with Chella, and my legal career.

I don’t even remember the last time I was on a date. Like a real date. Not meeting a game client, or law client, or a business associate.

Which makes me pick up my phone and open the message Augustine sent. The address is linked to my map app, so I press it, telling myself I’m just curious to see where they live.

Hmmm. Nice area. Right on Cheeseman Park. In fact, it’s so close to my house I can walk there in a matter of minutes if I cut through the Botanic Gardens.