Page 77 of Play Dirty

I heard them whispering in the master bathroom. I didn’t catch it all. I was too tired to care. But I heard her say something like, “This doesn’t change anything.”

I drifted off trying to understand her. What she meant by that.

Didn’t change anything between them? Maybe?

So they are having marriage issues after all.

Then sleep took me away and I no longer cared. The perfect night was over and I was happy.

I’m meeting Evangeline at the Mile High Cafe across the street from the Capitol building. She called me at work this morning and asked to have lunch. I wasn’t sure why she’d want to have lunch with me, but the only obvious reason is Ixion. And I’m always in for a conversation about Ixion.

She already has a table in the back when I walk in and push my way past the crowd of courthouse people waiting for their takeaway sandwiches or hoping for a place to sit and relax. I see her first, already heading to the back, when she lifts her hand to wave at me.

I don’t know her that well. Not really. I mean, I know more than I should. More than most. Because I was in charge of running her Total Exposure game a few months back. So I know her issues, and her fears, and that she overcame them. I know she loves Ixion the way I do. I know he loves her back, probably not the way he loves me.

She is thin, but shapely. Dark hair and bright eyes. And she’s a very talented violinist. Was once a child prodigy who toured the world playing for celebrities, and royalty, and CEO’s.

I know she’s sensitive, and artistic, and even though Ixion put all her shattered pieces back together, she has leftover chips and cracks.

He’s careful with her.

So I’m careful with her too.

I smile as I approach her table, unsure how to greet her properly—a handshake like we’re business partners, when we’re not. Or a kiss to the cheek like we’re old friends, when we’re not.

I opt for neither. Neutrality. And just take my seat. “How are you?” I ask.

“Well,” she says. “Very well, actually.”

“And Ixion?” I ask, my voice low and throaty when I say his name.

“Also well.” She smiles at me again, but this time it’s tight. “But that’s what I want to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” I ask, feeling a little sick that the thought of them having issues… excites me.

Things with Augustine and Alexander seem to be working out—at the very least, they’re starting to make sense—and the only thing missing now is the fourth piece of the quasi-quad we once had.

And that’s so inappropriate.

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” I say, shaking my head at the waitress who appears to ask if I want to order something. Evangeline isn’t eating, so I decide this won’t be an eating lunch. Just a talking lunch.

“I know you’re his best friend—”

Which makes me laugh. And makes her pause.

“What?”

“Well.” I chuckle. “We were. Once. But…”

“No,” she says, reaching across the table to take my hand in both of hers. “You are.” And then her tight smile becomes warm again as she lets go and leans back in her chair. “Trust me.”

I want to ask all the questions about that. Like… Does he talk about me? Does he tell you about our childhood? Or mention anything about what we were to each other back in LA? Or what I did to him to make him disappear? Make him hate me?

But that’s not why she’s here and anyway, she’s going to tell me something, even if it’s not any of that. And something is enough for now.

“It’s about the house,” she says. “The mansion next to the Botanic Gardens where we played our game.”

“Oh,” I say. “Yeah. He came by a few days ago wanting to know more about it.”