What are Smith and Quin doing this weekend? “Command,” I say to the car. “Call—”
What the fuck am I doing?
“I’m sorry,” my car says in an unassuming female voice. “I didn’t understand your command.”
No, I think to myself. I don’t understand my command either. I’m pretty sure Quin is hanging out with Rochelle and Adley this weekend. Probably Smith and Chella too. They are having dinner right now. Going to see a play. Or maybe they’re just kicking back at their respective homes, content to be with themselves.
“Why?” I ask the cold night. “Why did you leave me?”
But I know why.
Nadia’s building comes into view too quick. I have an urge to keep driving, but I have nowhere else to go. Just the Club. Just the basement. Just the meaningless sex-filled rooms that might’ve stolen my youth.
And even though it’s a powerful pull… I don’t want to be there tonight. Not without them.
Of course, I’ll go back later. I always do.
I pull into the valet and they rush to my car. “Keep it here for me,” I say. “I’ll only be a minute.”
“Yes, sir,” the young man replies.
But I barely hear him. I’m already on my way inside. I walk across the lobby towards the elevator, press the button, then step back in surprise as the doors open and Nadia and I almost collide.
“What are you doing here?” she asks me.
She’s dressed up. A long, black coat covers her clothes, but I can see the fuck-me shoes on her feet, the make-up on her face, and the careful attention she gave to her hair.
She’s going out. To have fun, I suppose.
“I…” I sigh. “I’m sorry I didn’t call yesterday. Apparently, I was supposed to. Jordan is busy this weekend with a client. He says you changed your number so…”
“So he sent you to rein me in?”
“Something like that.”
“Well, apology accepted. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere to be.”
“Where?” I ask her.
“None of your business.”
“Nadia, don’t play with me, OK?”
She places one hand firmly against my chest to push me back, and then skirts around my body acting like a blockade.
I follow her. Not because I’m intrigued. “Nadia,” I say, catching up to her and grabbing hold of her arm.
She spins, fake smile in place. “Let go of me,” she hisses under her breath.
“I’ll drive you.”
“No, thank you.”
“I’m driving you,” I say, leading her towards the lobby door.
She acquiesces, allowing me to take her outside. And even though I can feel the rage boiling up inside her, she stays quiet when I open the passenger door to my car and motion with my head for her to get in.
I close the door, hand the valet a ten, and get in my side.
“What do you want?” she asks, looking through her small purse for something.
“Where are you going?”
“Out.”
“A party?” I ask, pulling away from the curb.
“Does it matter?” she asks.
“Are you meeting a date there?” I ask, stopping at a light on Speer Boulevard.
“Several, actually.”
I look at her from the corner of my eye. “You’re not allowed to date.”
She simply shrugs. “Drop me off here.”
“Where?” I ask, pulling forward for the green light.
“Here, on the corner.”
“Please,” I huff. And then I turn right, up Speer, towards the freeway, because I have the feeling if I stop at another light she might get out.
“Where the fuck are you going?” she asks.
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
She shuffles in her seat, looking back over her shoulder at downtown as I ease into the light traffic on I-25 south. “Take me back downtown.”
“Give the car an address,” I say, motioning to the on-screen display on the dash. “And I will.”
“Fuck you. I’m late already.”
“Well, you’re going to be a whole lot later if you don’t tell me where to go. Give me,” I say, my voice solid, commanding, “a fucking address.”
“So you can come ruin my night?” she huffs. But I’ve made her angry. Perhaps I’ll get that slap after all.
“Maybe I’ll make your night better?”
She shakes her head. But a few seconds later she says, “The old tire company warehouse.”
“Why?” I ask. The building is kind of iconic. Old-school, cool logo painted on the fading brown brick. And not far from downtown. It’s been empty for a long time. They’re tearing it down next week to build condos.
“Why do you think?”
“Hmmm,” I say, getting off the freeway to turn left onto Colfax. “Sex club?” I laugh, because I’m kidding.
But Nadia says, “Ding. Ding. Ding.”
“You’re going to a fucking sex club tonight? Nadia, what the fuck? And a transient one, at that? Just what the fuck?”
“I like to play in the dark just as much as you, Elias. I like the transient ones. Keeps it all mysterious and anonymous.”
I reach for her coat and pull it open. She’s wearing fucking lingerie underneath. “Who runs this club?” I ask.
“Someone you know,” she says. Coyly.
“Who?” I ask. OK, I’m there. I’m intrigued. “Not Smith.”
“Baldwin? That boring jerk? Hardly.”
“Not Quin.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
So I shrug. “Doesn’t matter then. Are you meeting men there? Even after our deal? I thought you had fun the other night?”
“You’re playing a game with me. I know what you did.”
“You liked it.”
“I know what you did.”
There’s a little hint of double meaning in her voice. Something dark and ominous in her tone.
“Are you meeting men there?” I ask again, enunciating each word.
“Mr. Bricman,” she says, turning in her seat. “I don’t waste my breath with lies. I said yes. Several.”
“Several.” I say the word. Process it. “Is this the whole hoods, and chains, and sucking cocks you were talking about the other day?”
“Yes,” she says, then smiles so big as she gazes out the window. Fucking Cheshire cat is back.
“Can I come?” I ask. I realize it’s not a command. I could’ve said, I’m coming with you. But I asked instead. A question she has to answer is so much better. And I know it will make her think.
After a few moments of nothing but the sound of heat blaring at us from the dash, she says, “If you don’t interfere.”
“You’re going to fuck them?” I ask. “I won’t let you fuck them.”
“I told you I don’t fuck them.”
“I won’t let you suck them off, either.”
“You don’t get to decide, Elias.”
So… we’re back to Elias. “I do, Nadia.” I say it honestly. Meaning it. And she knows this just from my tone. “I’m with you tonight whether you like it or not. So I do get to decide. I’ll take you there. I’ll take you in. I’ll stay with you every moment. But you touch no one but me. You leave there with me.”
“And what if I say no?” she asks.
“You won’t say no because if you do then the game we’re playing is over. You like the game. You like Jordan. You might not like me, but you like what I’m offering or else you’d never have given it a chance. You’d never have wasted your time playing with me on the phone the other night. You’d never have wasted your time with Jordan if submitting wasn’t turning you on. You like to slap him, but you also like what comes after. When he gets you alone.”
She glances at me, but catches herself a second later and stares back through the window.
“No,” I say, answering her unasked question. “He hasn’t told me what you two do. But I’m not a beginner at this, Nadia. I’m a professional. I know what comes next.”