Page 70 of Play Dirty

I huff out a laugh. “Enlighten me, then, Augustine. Tell me what I’m missing.”

She glares at me. Points her finger in my face. “You’re missing everything. You see nothing but lies. You see nothing but your made-up past, and you project that onto us like we’re the ones responsible.”

I swat her hand away, sick and tired of all the drama and bullshit that comes off these two like a sick, thick fog. “I’m not responsible for your happiness, Augustine. I’m not your cure, or your Band-Aid, or your fucking scapegoat. What you two have—the good, the bad, all of it—has nothing to do with me. This is a fucking business decision. This is a fucking contract. This is a fucking…” I stumble for words, unable to find another analogy.

“A fucking game,” she spits. “You’ve been playing games your whole life. That’s all you know how to do. That’s all you are. One long game. That’s all you’ve ever been and ever will be, because you’re too goddamned afraid to see the truth standing right in front of you.”

“The truth in front of me?” I laugh. “The truth in front of me is one sad, lost woman who chose the wrong man years ago and now she regrets it and wants a second chance.”

Oh, yeah. Even I feel that burn.

Augustine stands still. Silent. Her eyes welling up like she might start crying.

I turn away, done with this shit. Ready to get the fuck away from her. From both of them.

“If you walk out on us one more time, Jordan,” Alexander says, “don’t ever fucking come back. Because you know what? I’m tired of you treating my wife like she’s some piece of shit under your shoe.” He steps fully into the hallway now. Jaw set and clenched. Eyes locked on mine. Mouth even and without any hint of affection. “She never did anything to you. She wasn’t the one who lied and manipulated people. She wasn’t the one who ruined everything. She’s here to save us, yeah. OK. Fine. But she’s here to save you too.”

“Save me?” I laugh so loud I almost startle myself. The guffaw is unexpectedly real. “What a fucking joke. I don’t need saving. Like… what fucking world do you two live in? What fucking reality? I didn’t ask you to come here. I didn’t ask you to give me another chance. I didn’t do any of this. I walked away and left you two alone. Just like you wanted. And now that I’m happy, and things are going great—”

“Going great?” Alexander belts out an incredulous laugh.

“—you two want to steal my satisfaction. Like fucking leeches. Like blood-sucking vampires.”

“Is that what you think?” he asks. His words a soft, angry whisper as he slowly walks towards me. Stops directly in front of me. “How did you get this far?”

“What?”

“In life, Jordan. I mean… it’s sad, man. Fucking sad.”

“Stop it, Alexander. Leave him alone.”

I glance over at Augustine. Narrowing my eyes at her. Something… something is happening here and I’m not sure what.

“No,” Alexander says. “No,” he says again. “I’m done playing his game. Jordan needs to know.”

“Know what?” I ask. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Then Augustine is in between us. Her hands on my arms. Her body pressing into me. Face tilted up as I glance down at her, eyes wide and begging. “Can you just… just trust me for once?”

I redirect my stare back to Alexander. “What do I need to know?”

“That we love you,” Augustine says quickly. Almost urgently.

Which is so funny—but sad at the same time. So I don’t bother laughing.

“We love you, Jordan. That’s why we’re here. We were young back in LA. We were messing around with sex, and feelings, and there were a lot of emotions involved. It wasn’t you who did that, ya know? It wasn’t you.”

“No?” I ask. “Who was it then?”

“It was the sick fuck living inside you,” Alexander growls.

“Stop it!” Augustine says, whirling around to face him. Her back presses against my chest now. Like she’s a shield trying to protect me. “Just stop it, Alexander. You’re making things worse.”

“Am I?” he asks. And it doesn’t come off as sarcastic or anything. Just like a real question.

“Don’t walk away,” Augustine says. “Please. Just show us what you need. What you want. What makes you…” She shrugs. “Happy. And all you’ve been talking about—the only reason you’re doing this with us—is this place. This stupid building is what makes you happy. So help us give you that.”

“You could give me that by selling me the fucking building,” I say. It’s mean. I know it’s mean. She’s being real, and emotional, and putting herself out there and I’m being sarcastic, and shallow, and self-absorbed. But it’s true, isn’t it? If all she wants is to make me happy, then sell me the fucking building and stop this game. “This isn’t my game,” I say, trying to explain. “You guys started this. How did you even know that I wanted this building? Like… how did you even come to own it?”