And I know what Quin thinks too. I told him as well. Planted all the little ideas in his head. We’re good together. We have fun. Rochelle is the perfect player. Things can go back to the way they were.
We will be happy again. My manipulative personality will make sure this game goes to plan. But there’s a very fine line with these two. My happiness depends on both of them thinking they need me.
Here’s the problem with that. I don’t think Quin really needs much convincing to fall hopelessly back in love with Rochelle all by himself. And I don’t think Rochelle needs me to keep Quin interested.
I need them way more than they need me.
Usually, I’m happy no matter what. Last year I was happy with Rochelle just as much as I was without her. But I like fucking girls with Quin, OK? I like it. He’s the best player ever. Smith sucks at it. And he’s out for good now, anyway. And Jordan, Jesus. If Smith sucks, then Jordan is absolutely awful. It will take me years to turn Jordan into Quin. Years.
I don’t want to wait years for happiness. Why should I when I have these two right here, right now?
So I only have two choices. Keep Quin and Rochelle for myself and have a good time by manipulating them into thinking they need me. Or let them go be happy together and be left with an endless string of stupid games that never last and end badly.
This is a no-brainer.
Quin is too afraid to have a one-on-one relationship with Rochelle because he doesn’t trust her, plus he only thinks in plural relationships right now. And Rochelle is too afraid to cut me loose because she thinks Quin won’t stay if I go.
So why not use them both at the same time?
And I get to spoil that baby and never have any real responsibilities.
I almost laugh at my genius.
“I was thinking every other day,” I say, answering them both at the same time. “You know. Mondays with Quin. Tuesdays with me. Etc. Etc. Etc.”
“What about Sunday?” Rochelle asks, slurping up a noodle so loudly, Adley looks over at her mother and squeals.
“Do whatever you want on Sunday, just like always.”
“Not quite like always,” Quin says. “I wasn’t technically allowed to see her on Sundays.”
“You want to see her on Sundays?” I ask him. “Go ahead. I’ve got plans. So I won’t be around.”
Quin thinks about this. It’s just my opening bid. I know exactly what he’ll say next.
“I don’t think we need rules,” Quin replies.
“Me either,” Rochelle says, placing a noodle on the tray in front of Adley.
I watch to see what she does. God, I can’t stand the anticipation as her little fingers fumble for it. She fists it, breaks it in half, then makes another grab. A few jerky movements later she’s got it up to her mouth.
“Ha!” I say. “I knew she’d like noodles.”
“No rules,” Quin says. “I can come here any time I want.”
I shrug. “What do you think about that, Rochelle? No rules? Not much of a game, is it?”
She shrugs, unsure how to play this out. If she says she’s into the game, Quin might take that to mean he’s allowed to play along forever. Happily refusing to admit he’s got a fear of commitment. Or… whatever the fuck his problem is. Honestly, Quin is a catch. He’s a good boyfriend. He’s always been a good Number Two. And he was Number Three a few times, and he was good at that too. It’s being Number One that freaks him out.
He’s absolutely Number One in this game. He just doesn’t realize it yet.
But if Rochelle says she’s not into the game, then why am I here?
Hmmm. What a dilemma. Poor Rochelle.
“How about we all just live here?” Rochelle finally offers.
“Here?” I say, trying to hide my amusement. “Like… just live together like a family? OK,” I say. “I’m fine with that. If you guys don’t mind that I’m at the Club every night doing Club things.”
Rochelle squints her eyes at me. “Fucking other girls? Down in the basement?”
“See, this is why we might need rules, Rochelle. I own a sex club. I have to be down there most weekends. And if I’m down there, I’m gonna be down there, if you know what I mean.”
“I don’t care if you go down there,” Quin says.
“Are you going down there?” Rochelle asks him.
Quin shrugs. “I might. I’m not really a member anymore, though.”
“Ah, shut the fuck up, Quin,” I say. “You’re still a member.”
Rochelle is well on her way to pissed off right now, but I don’t care.
“Well, maybe I’ll have a few extracurricular activities going on too,” she says. “How about this for rules? Quin gets Monday and Tuesday, like always. You get Wednesday and Thursday, like always. And I get Friday through Sunday to myself.”
“Sounds good to me,” I say.
Quin isn’t so sure. “What will you do on the weekends?”
She shrugs. “Whatever I want.”
“Do you want to get paid?” I ask her.
“No.” She scowls at me. “I don’t need your money.”
“Then why are you here?” Quin asks.
Ah ha! I almost don’t stop the laugh.
“I was invited to play a game,” she says.
“Then you have to get paid,” Quin counters. “That’s rule number one. We pay you to do what we want.”
“Fine,” Rochelle says, twirling pasta onto her fork. “Pay me then. Ten thousand a month, each.”
“OK,” I say. “I guess we’ve got all that settled. It’s Wednesday, so it’s my night. But look, Rochelle, I wasn’t expecting this to be the rule. I really thought you’d go for the every other day thing. So I made plans for tonight.”
“What plans?” she asks.
“Club things. You know I gotta be there most of the time. When people come in they expect to see me at the bar. Plus, Jordan already texted me like six times today asking about the next girl.”
“The next—”
“I told him no, Rochelle,” I say, cutting her off. Is she pretending right now? Or is this real jealousy? I’m not sure. She’s a good fucking actress. “But I should go take care of it anyway.”
“Oh,” she says, putting her fork down. “Are you leaving?” she asks Quin.
“I guess I have to,” he says. “Not my night.”
I throw my napkin down and stand up. “Fuck it. We always get a free night, right?”
“Do we?” Quin asks, confused.
“Yeah, you know. The break-in-the-new-rules night. So how about you just stay with Rochelle and the baby tonight. Help her out and shit. Come by the Club tomorrow,” I say to Rochelle, leaning in to kiss her.
It was just gonna be a small kiss. A peck, really. But she opens her mouth for me and we linger. I get a little hard, actually.
When I pull back, she’s staring up into my eyes. “Come by?”
“Yeah,” I say, my voice softer than it should be. “Both of you.” I nod to Quin. “We’ll have dinner and stuff. Together.”
“I think that should be a rule,” Quin says. “Meals together. At least once a day. So this doesn’t get weird. We need to stay in touch. Be together. Alternating days can lead to… isolation.”