I missed everything. She took it all away from me and I don’t think I can ever forgive her for that.
“Quin.” Bric interrupts my thoughts. “Come on. You need to do this.”
“No,” I say, the anger melting away. “No. I’m not going.”
I turn to leave but Bric has my arm again. “You’re going, Quin. This shit is over now. You and Smith are my best friends and Rochelle tore us apart.”
“Exactly. So now it’s over, Bric. I’m done. I don’t even care what you did or didn’t do. We can be friends again.”
“We can’t,” he says. “It’s not the same. You know it’s not. You’re still pissed off at me about this shit and if we just go over there like Smith says, and have it out with her, it will be better. I know it.”
I just look at him, trying to figure out his angle. He always has an angle. “Why do you care?”
“Why?” He laughs. “Why? I’m playing the fucking game with Jordan Wells, Quin. He’s just not my type.”
I laugh. I can’t help myself.
Bric laughs too. “I’m totally fucking serious. I can’t, man. I can’t have sex with that guy two on one. He’s an asshole. It’s nothing like it was with you and Smith. And OK, Smith is out. Fine. But if you were still in… It’d be a whole lot better than me and Jordan Wells.”
I stop laughing but I’m still smiling, trying to picture Bric and Jordan trying to play with some random girl. I miss it, so there’s this little part of me that’s jealous. But mostly I find it comical.
“And the girls, man. Jesus Christ. We’ve been through three of them. This last one…” Bric rolls his eyes and lets out a long exhale. “Rochelle was so much better than these girls. Chella was great too, you know?”
I nod. “She really was. I kinda wish Chella and Smith were still playing. I think I’d have handled all this shit better if we were still in that relationship.”
“I think so too,” Bric says. “But you and me, man. We’re still good at this, you know? We could be friends again. Find a new girl.”
“With Jordan?” I ask, one eyebrow raised.
Bric shrugs. “I don’t care. He was always good enough down in the Club, you know?”
True. We have fucked girls with Jordan plenty of times. I don’t really like him, but Bric is right. He’s good enough when we’re the ones in control. The game was never meant to be played with just two guys. I imagine that makes everything off balance. You really need that third guy to keep the feelings away.
And even then…
“Or just the two of us,” Bric offers, his voice low, like he’s uncertain how I’d feel about it. “We could come up with a new game. Change things around a little.”
“Maybe,” I admit, sighing. “I do miss that, you know.”
“I do too,” Bric says. “But we can’t go forward until we deal with the past. Let’s just go over there, meet up with Smith, go up, and confront her. You say everything you want to say. Then we’ll leave.”
“And the baby?” I ask. “What do I do about the baby?”
Bric shrugs. “I dunno, man. You just gotta see what happens, I guess.”
I take my own car over to the Four Seasons. It’s only about eight blocks away from the Club, so not nearly enough time to process what’s happening. I pull into the valet, hand over my keys, and spy Bric, Chella, and Smith standing near the sleek, modern stairs, through the window of the lobby.
Chella walks towards me as I enter, holding the little rat called Precious. “Quin, are you sure you’re up to this? Don’t let them pressure you into anything you’re not ready for.”
“Come on,” I say. “I’m fine. I’m pissed off, but otherwise fine.”
“Just give her the benefit of the doubt, OK?”
“Why should I? What she did—”
“What she did,” Chella interrupts me, “was done in desperation.”
“How was she desperate? Huh? Explain that to me, please. Because I don’t get it.”
“She was pregnant, Quin. It’s a weird time for some women. I know you don’t understand that, but some don’t handle it well. They do crazy things. Overreact and become sad. I can’t explain it, because obviously, I’ve never been pregnant. But I was with her, remember? We were friends that whole time she was getting ready to leave. I told you she was sad. I told you something big was happening to her. So just… just be patient and be quiet.”
I sneer down at Chella.
“Just listen to her.”
“What if she has nothing to say?” I ask. “What if she blows us off and just says, ‘Fuck you guys?’”
“Then…” Chella shrugs. “Then walk out and don’t look back.”
“The baby, Chella.”
“Shit,” she says, biting her lip. “I forgot about that.”
“I might want to walk out on Rochelle, but not the baby.”
“It could be Bric’s,” Chella says, a little hint of hope in her voice. We both know Bric isn’t into kids. He might be happy if Rochelle walked away with his kid.
“It’s not,” I say.
“You don’t know.”
“Sometimes you know, and this is one of those times. I just know.”
“Well, let’s take one step at a time, OK?”
“Ready?” Smith says, walking up to us. Bric looks nervous, which surprises me. But Smith looks… angry.
Why is he pissed off?
“Ready,” I say, sighing.
We walk towards the elevator and wait until the doors open. The ride up to the twenty-first floor seems to take forever, but then when the doors open, it’s all going too fast as we walk down the hall. She’s at the very end. A suite, from the looks of the door.
Smith knocks, no hesitation. I hear a baby fussing inside and look over at Bric. He still looks very nervous. Chella grabs my hand just as the lock disengages and the door swings in.
Rochelle. My beautiful, beautiful Rochelle. She doesn’t look anything like the girl I lost. She looks… so much better.
“I should’ve known,” she says, no hello or greeting.
“I’m sorry,” Chella says, letting go of my hand and stepping forward. “He needed to know. We’ll leave if you want, but I think you owe them a conversation.”
“Fine,” Rochelle says, waving her hand for us to enter. “I probably do deserve this.”
Deserve this. That’s all she has to say? Just, Fine, I deserve this?
Chella enters first, then Smith, then Bric and I’m last. I hesitate for a second, but then the heavy door begins to swing closed and Bric stops it, last second, pulling it open for me again. “Come on,” he says. “Give it five minutes. Then you can leave.”
I enter into a hallway—master bedroom off to the right, large bathroom right in front of me with one of those huge soaking tubs—and then go left and follow Chella into the living room. There’s a couch, three chairs, a small office table, and, once I get fully into the suite, a dining room off to the left that seats one, two, three… eight. Eight fucking people. Sweeping mountain and city views from the two windows that flank the corner fireplace draw my attention back to what’s happening.