“I have my own park.” He laughs, feeling better about the arrangements. “Just wait.”
“OK,” Bric says. “Food’s here.” He holds up three giant white bags that say “Anna Ameci’s South” on them. “I hope you like pasta.” And then he looks at me. “I wanna see that pumpkin eat noodles.”
“She doesn’t eat noodles.” I laugh. “She’s six months old.” But when I look back at Quin he’s… thinking again.
What’s going on with him?
Chapter Nine - Bric
I set the food down on the table and start pulling out dishes. “Here, Rochelle. I got her a high chair today too. Just scoot that up to the table.”
Rochelle hands the baby off to Quin, who takes her awkwardly, and walks over to the high chair looking confused.
“What’s wrong with you?” I ask Quin. “You don’t like the idea of them staying here?”
“You could’ve told me you were going baby shopping.” He’s shifting Adley in his arms, like he has no idea what to do with her. I want to intervene and help him out, but somehow, I think that might make things worse.
“Sorry, man. I didn’t think about it. Just had to get shit done, you know?”
“Whatever.”
Well, Mr. Foster has a jealousy gene. I never got this vibe off him before, so this is something to note. I know how to work the high chair, so I press the lever, flip the tray down, and then point to the seat. Quin sets Adley inside and I put the tray back up. “I had to look up how to use it too,” I tell Quin, so he won’t be annoyed at not being able to work the high chair. “But it’s easy.”
When I met Rochelle, Smith, Quin, and I were between games. We had just gotten rid of a girl who really sucked. She was my idea, so I was looking to make it up to Quin and Smith for the fuck-up. Rochelle kinda reminded me of a girl Quin brought into the game a couple years back. Someone he got along with. Someone he had fun with. Can’t even remember her name now. Lacey? Lisa? Lindsey? I’m not sure. She was a stripper down at Old Joe’s on Colfax. But she insisted she was only doing that to pay for her first year of college out in Utah. She informed me she had big plans. Was going to be a lawyer one day.
I didn’t believe her for a second but it turns out she was telling the truth. She spent the summer with us and then she was out.
Quin didn’t get sad over Lacey/Lisa/Lindsey. But he did remark that he’d miss her.
And Rochelle looked a lot like her—if you didn’t count the dress. I figured that dress was from a thrift store and it was her only option. But I learned later she’s into that kind of stuff. That’s her style. If I had known she was one of those throwback flower girls I wouldn’t have ever invited her into the game. Smith hates those girls.
I really don’t give a fuck about a game girl’s style. Or her personality. Or her hopes and dreams, for that matter. It’s a fucking game. It’s short-term. Temporary. Sex. That’s all it is for me. As long as I find a woman attractive and she likes to please, I’m happy.
Hippy style aside, Rochelle is beautiful and she’s submissive enough to keep me satisfied. Not a fighter. Not a complainer. Not even close to high-maintenance. I think Chella is probably more high-maintenance than Rochelle.
Most of the time she’s easy-going. She’s laid back. She’s cool.
So I liked her when we were playing these past few years. She never once asked for more. She never once got mad at me for like—anything. And she was always there when she was supposed to be. She did what she was told.
She was… someone there… but never on my mind. Right?
That’s about all I ask for in a player.
Be there, but not there, if that makes sense.
So I’m sure Quin picked up on that. I liked her but I never cared if she left. I fucked her on my days then went on with my life.
I was no threat to him and all his feelings back then.
But this baby changes everything.
I want her here. Things are different now. We’re trying something new. We’ve never shared a girl outside the game, but if it can be done, it will be done with Rochelle.
I’ve never wanted kids, but this little pumpkin fascinates me to no end. And maybe it’s just because I know I’m not ever going to be her father. Even if I was her real father, I’m not the father type.
But I am the uncle type. The semi-absent father figure who shows up with presents and then disappears for days, or weeks, or months. The one you call when you’re sixteen and get arrested for smoking pot under a bridge somewhere when you should be in school. The one who would show up in court, pretending to be your father, and never tells your parents. The one who hands over money, no reason necessary. The fun one.
I feel the need to be the fun one with Adley. I don’t want a kid. That kind of responsibility is not my thing at all. No, I’m not here to take that away from him. But I gotta keep Quin happy in this little arrangement or my surrogate kid might disappear.
“It’s good,” Rochelle says, shoveling a heaping forkful of pasta into her mouth. She follows that up with a shrimp and then goes for the meatballs.
Quin is oddly silent.
“So hey,” I say, pointing my fork at Quin. “I guess we should get the rules out of the way, right?”
When we had our first meeting with Chella about the rules, it was pretty out of the ordinary. She was in control the whole time. What’s my dream? I don’t need a dream, I’m just here for the sex.
Rochelle’s rule meeting was more like… OK. OK. OK.
Whatever we said, she was OK with it. You’re gonna pay me thirty grand a month to fuck me on alternating days of the week? Sure thing. You want to give me a free place to live, buy my food, and give me gifts? I’m in. You want to dress me up like a socialite and take me to parties? No problem.
When we dished out our rules to Rochelle, she took it like a champ. No touching from Quin unless Bric is there? Kinky fun. Smith can do whatever he wants with me? I can deal. And when I told her no feelings—like none—or we’d kick her to the curb, well, she didn’t even blink an eye at me.
She was on board.
Rochelle is as easy-going as they come.
This rule meeting is not going to be like that at all. I’ve been thinking it over ever since I left her place down in Pagosa Springs.
I need her to balk. I need her to resist. I need her to be uncomfortable. That is the only way Quin will think this is real. He wants to punish her. He might not admit that to us, or even himself. But that’s what he wants. I know him. I got this, Quin.
“What rules?” Rochelle asks. “I thought this was—”
“Yeah, what rules?” Quin eyes me suspiciously.
I already know what Rochelle thinks about my rules. We discussed them earlier and I told her what to think. We’re back together so she can snag Quin. Get him back. Make him commit to her. And I’m only here as the buffer.