Turning Point Club Box Set

by JA Huss

  “You don’t know that,” I say. He’s starting to get on my nerves.

  “I do know that.”

  “Look, the allergy doesn’t mean anything concrete. Lots of people have allergies and aren’t—”

  “I’m not talking about the fucking allergy test, you idiot.” Smith is actually seething.

  “Dude, what is your problem?”

  “Rochelle, that’s my problem. I don’t want Kitty thinking that’s her granddaughter because I figured her out a long time ago. I know something about her you guys don’t.”

  “About who? I’m so fucking confused.”

  “Rochelle, you idiot. Did we ever ask her about her past?”

  I think about it for a second because I’m almost positive we did. “I don’t know,” I decide. Because I can’t quite remember. “It was a long time ago. I’m sure we did.”

  “We didn’t. And did you ever ask yourself why I really stopped associating with her?”

  “You don’t like her. I think you’ve made that pretty clear.”

  “Why don’t I like her, Bric?”

  “Who knows. You hate everyone.”

  “Not true. I love a lot of people. I just hate opportunists, Bric.”

  “Like me,” I joke. I take another sip of my drink.

  “It’s not funny, asshole. I have a pretty good idea what kind of person Rochelle really is and this stupid fucking game the three of you are playing is gonna turn very bad as soon as you pull your heads out of your asses and get that DNA test.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Smith and I both turn away from the bar to find Quin right behind us.

  “What?” Smith says, playing dumb.

  “Why would we regret playing this game if we got the DNA test? I just talked to you about this yesterday and you were all supportive and shit.”

  “No,” Smith says. “I was evasive. And if you didn’t have your head up your ass, you’d have recognized that.”

  “Evasive about what?” Quin asks. He looks as confused as I am.

  “About your goddamned girlfriend. You don’t know anything about her, Quin. You never ask. Why the fuck do you let her get away with all this shit?”

  “Hey,” I say, putting my hands up, trying to defuse the situation. “We’re not gonna do this again. Not here.”

  “We’ve never actually done this,” Smith says. “I just keep minding my own business, hoping the two of you will finally come to your senses about this woman. She’s playing you assholes, Can’t you see that? I looked her up last year. Something you guys never bothered to do. But hey, who am I to interrupt someone’s fun, right? So I let that go. But then I fucking saw her last year—”

  But my phone buzzes on the bar next to me and interrupts him. “Shit,” I say, looking down at the text. “We have a problem at the tea party.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight - Quin

  “Saw her where?” I ask. But Bric is on his feet, already walking towards the White Room. Smith goes after him, so I have no choice but to follow. We push our way through the revolving doors just in time to see a woman throw a drink in Rochelle’s face. Some of it even lands on my mother. And Adley.

  “What the fuck is going on here?” Bric bellows the words out so loud, the whole room lets out a shocked gasp.

  The woman, who is so drunk she’s swaying, takes her fury to Bric. “This little cheating whore!” she yells. “She’s just like her mother. Just like her father. The disgusting deviant side in her comes naturally. She thinks she’s so much better than me? Well, let me tell you a little bit about Rochelle Bastille! She’s—”

  But Bric has his hand over her mouth and is dragging her ass back towards the doors we just came through.

  I walk over to Rochelle and take Adley from my mom. “Are you OK? What the hell was that?”

  “I’m fine,” Rochelle says, wiping champagne off her face. I take my pocket square out of my suit coat and offer it to her. “Thanks,” she says, with a frustrated sigh. “And that was my father’s ex-mistress throwing a tantrum because Bric threatened to kick her sugar daddy out of the Club if she didn’t keep her trap shut about how she knows me.”

  “How does she know you?” I ask. Smith’s words are still ringing in my head. You don’t know anything about her, Quin. You never ask. But then some guy in a gray suit starts dabbing my mother’s dress with a handkerchief. “And who the fuck are you?” I ask him.

  “Sorry,” the guy says. He’s about Bric’s age, I’d guess.

  “Quin,” Chella says, coming up next to me. “That’s Darrel Jameson. He’s a former FBI agent. Used to be my security detail back when I was young and wild.” She laughs.

  “Oh,” I say. “Sorry about that. But I’m kinda wound up. My girls just got a drink thrown on them.”

  “No problem,” Jameson says. “It’s nice to finally meet you. When Bric hired me to find Rochelle, we didn’t have a chance to talk. I got the info so fast.” He laughs. “It’s almost like he didn’t want her found. Anyway, I only reported to him. And it’s all working out, I see.” He beams a smile over to Rochelle, who looks very confused.

  “What?” I have to shake my head a little to catch up with the conversation.

  “Quin,” Chella says, taking my arm. Adley is smacking me on the face, babbling her little heart out, completely oblivious to the commotion. “I didn’t even have a chance to tell you. I introduced him to Bric and the very next day, Rochelle came home on her own. So we never needed him.”

  “No.” Jameson chuckles. “I found her thirty minutes after you gave me her name, Marcella. I came to the Club to tell you that, but you left. So I told Mr. Bricman—” He stops talking. “Ohhhh. Yeah. Oops.” He winces. “Mr. Bricman did tell me not to tell you.”

  “He what?” Chella says.

  “What the fuck is happening right now?” I look at Rochelle. “Did Bric find you? Did he tell you to come home? Did you lie to me?”

  “Listen,” Chella says. “I’m sure this all a misunderstanding. Rochelle came home because she missed you, Quin. Right, Rochelle?”

  I look at Rochelle and she’s pale. So fucking pale. That’s not why she came home. I can tell. I can read her mind.

  I look at Smith and he’s leaning up against the wall near the revolving doors, his arms crossed, big smug smile on his face. “There’s more,” he says. “Isn’t there, Rochelle?”

  “Smith,” Chella barks. “Would you shut up! You’re not helping.”

  Rochelle snaps out of her shock and comes up to me, taking Adley right out of my arms. “We need to go clean up. Excuse me.”

  Everyone, and I do mean everyone in this tea room, watches her walk away. As soon as she disappears into the restroom, the whole place explodes in whispers.

  Bric appears behind me. “I’m so sorry, everyone. Please, continue to enjoy your tea. Helen will not be back, so if you’re in her party…” He stops, like he’s thinking. “Well, just get the fuck out now. I have no tolerance for this kind of bullshit.”

  He waits, but not a single woman gets up to claim that Helen woman as a friend.

  “Good,” Bric growls at them. “If any of you think you’re going to come in here and start some catty bullshit, you’re mistaken. You know the rules.”

  Everyone turns away from him, pretending to be interested in their tea and not the complete scene we’re making here in the back of the room.

  “Well, that was quite a show,” I say. “You wanna fucking explain what the hell just happened in here?”

  “No,” Bric says, combing his fingers through his hair. “We can have that discussion at home.”

  “I think we should have it now,” Smith says, walking over to us.

  “Smith,” Chella cautions him.

  But Smith is not deterred. He’s risking Chella’s anger because he’s got something to say to me. So I put a hand up to stop her. “Just let him talk, Chella.”

  “Not here,” Bric growls at us.

  “Here,” I say back. And then I lo
ok Bric in the eyes. “Now.”

  “Rochelle has a lot of explaining to do, Quin,” Smith says. “Do you really think I’d pay her ten thousand dollars a month to stay away for the fuck of it? Why did Rochelle leave so suddenly, Chella? You told us she took off unexpectedly. Why?”

  I look at Chella. “Do you know what he’s talking about?”

  She shrugs, looking confused. “Rochelle did leave unexpectedly, but—”

  “But that’s not even the worst of it,” Smith says. “The worst of it is…” He stops. Like he’s got a lot more to say, but he’s not sure if he should say it.

  “You might as well keep going,” I say.

  “I know why she left and it’s got nothing to do with you.”

  I look at Chella again. “What’s going on?”

  “She doesn’t know anything,” Smith says. “I didn’t tell her. And I wasn’t going to tell you either, but I cannot let you continue this farce of a relationship, especially since you’re dragging your mother into it. There’s a very good chance Adley doesn’t belong to either of you,” Smith says.

  “What?” Bric and I say together.

  “She was cheating on you guys,” Smith says. “I saw her in a very heated argument with a guy on the street the day before she took off.”

  “You must really hate me,” Rochelle says in a small voice from behind us. She’s standing just outside the door of the restroom. “That is some kind of hate, Smith Baldwin.” Then she looks at me. “I don’t have any idea where he’s getting this.”

  “So I didn’t see you with another man the day before you took off?” Smith looks at me and shakes his head. “Don’t believe her. Don’t believe a single word she says. She comes from a long line of liars. I looked her whole family up that spring I stopped coming by. I always knew you were someone, Rochelle. You had no cares. You had no worries. You had no commitments. I looked your family up. I even made a special trip out to Palm Springs to meet your father once. What a guy. So, yes, Rochelle Bastille, you absolutely do have some idea of what I’m fucking talking about.”

  Rochelle looks at me, anger washing over her. “I think it’s ironic that I’m here, in a place filled with cheaters, being called a cheater. This Club is nothing but cheating. You people are the height of hypocrisy. And if you believe him—well, then I’ll happily pretend I never came back. Helen just accused me of being a stupid little slut, just like my mother. And now Smith Baldwin is going to say the same thing? After he used me for years, just like the rest of you?” She shakes her head. “No. I don’t think so.”

  Rochelle lifts up her head, straightens her spine, and walks right past us, disappearing through the revolving doors.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine - Rochelle

  I will not cry. I will not cry. I repeat this over and over in my head as I make my way through the White Room and the lobby and right through the big revolving front doors. I don’t even have my car here. I’m fucking at the mercy of the drivers.

  I wait.

  Thankfully, they keep Bric’s car parked right down the block, so it pulls up and the valet opens the door for me. I scoot in, relieved to see that the car seat is still strapped in.

  The door closes and I let out a sad sigh. So this is where it all falls apart? I should’ve known Smith would start more shit after he paid me that visit last week. Asshole.

  And now I know the little secret he’s been keeping about me. Well, fuck him. Just fuck him.

  The door opens again and Kitty Foster is standing there. “Oh, good. Hahaha.” It’s a nervous, happy laugh. “I was afraid I’d miss you.”

  “Why, God?” I say out loud as I buckle Adley in her seat. She smells like champagne. That stupid bitch Helen. I cannot believe she threw a drink on me.

  “Oh, honey,” Kitty says, still nervously laughing as she gets in the car and closes the door. “What’s a little public humiliation between friends, right?”

  She smells like champagne too. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Foster.”

  “No, no, no,” she says, patting my arm. “It’s Kitty. We’re family now.”

  “Didn’t you just hear all that? She’s not Quin’s baby. Smith Baldwin is an asshole.”

  Kitty looks at me sympathetically. “I don’t know what’s going on, but Rochelle, I have some idea. These boys…” She looks away. “Well, they like to think I’m naïve and innocent. But I just play along, honey. No mother wants to discuss her son’s sexual… preferences, right? Hahaha!” Another nervous laugh. Then she stops the laugh and says, seriously now, “Maybe proclivity is a better word?”

  I just look at her, then lean forward to talk to the driver. “Can you take me home, please?”

  “Sure, Miss Bastille,” he says.

  “And button up the divider, huh, Ben?” Kitty says. “Us girls need to talk.”

  “No problem, Kitty.” The glass between us and the driver slides up and we are left alone.

  So. She’s a regular around here. I don’t know why that surprises me, but it does. I have never seen her around the Club. Was her husband a member? Is that why Quin’s a member?

  Maybe that life he led wasn’t as normal as I first thought.

  It shouldn’t make me feel better, but it does. I cannot believe how fucking all-American Quin Foster is. It makes me… insecure. Why would he want a fucked-up girl like me? Why? When he could have anyone he wants?

  But no, that’s not right about his father being a member. Not at this Club, at least. This Club belongs to Smith and Bric. I know that for a fact. And they haven’t owned it that long.

  But everyone seems to know her. And she knows about Bric and Smith.

  “Listen.” Kitty leans into me and whispers. “I know what they do here.”

  I feel even worse knowing she knows.

  “And I know who you are. Quin has talked about you a little. But he’s not the one who told me about Adley.” She takes a moment to look at her. “It was Chella. Quin didn’t set this up to ambush you into meeting me, sweetie. I did. I talked Chella into it. So don’t be mad at Quin.”

  “I’m not mad at Quin.” I sigh. “I’m not mad at him at all. There is absolutely nothing about Quin to be mad about. He’s perfect, in fact. Way too perfect for someone like me. And now that Smith just told him about that fight I had with—” I sigh again. Louder. Longer. “Well, now he’s gonna know what a total piece of shit I am.”

  “Smith is Smith, Rochelle.” Kitty’s snapped into mother mode. “You know him far better than I do. But even I know how he is. He has some facts right, maybe?”

  I nod my head and swallow hard.

  “So he knows something you haven’t told anyone else?”

  “Yes,” I say. “What he said was true, but he doesn’t know the whole story. He should not have said that. Especially in front of all those people.”

  “I believe you,” she says. “I think he probably knows that as well. You handled that altercation with grace and dignity.”

  “Thanks,” I say. “I really wanted to tell him to fuck off.”

  We laugh.

  “But not in a room filled with people.”

  “I totally understand. But the reason I came in the car with you was to make sure you understand why my son does this.”

  “This?” I ask.

  “Sharing business,” Kitty says, waving her hand in the air. “I know about it. I have seen him change over the years. Especially since his father died. You see, this is probably all my fault.”

  “What?”

  Kitty laughs again. “Hahahaha. I can’t say for certain how I know. Quin and I don’t talk about our sex lives. But it goes back to my relationship with his father.”

  “You shared men?”

  “I wish. Hahaha.”

  “I’m sorry, what are you saying then?” I’m so confused.

  “I’m going to let him tell you. I think he’s figured it out. He’s been struggling lately. And I know most of that goes back to his relationship with you.”

  Well, that’s jus
t great.

  The car pulls up to the loft and stops in front of the lobby doors. The driver gets out. “But don’t walk away before he tells you, Rochelle. Even if it takes him a little while to work through it. This is my granddaughter,” she says, patting Adley’s arm. “I can tell. Grandmothers know these things. But even if she isn’t through blood, she is through love. Remember that.”

  My door opens. I unbuckle Adley’s seat and the driver lifts it out for me.

  “I’ll see you soon, Adley,” Kitty calls.

  I walk into the building and get into the elevator. When I get upstairs I take Adley out of her seat and just sit in front of the window, wondering how the hell this day went so wrong.

  And how am I going to explain myself to Quin?

  The elevator dings and opens. Bric walks out. “Hey, Quin’s not here yet?”

  “Is he coming?” I ask, looking back at the window.

  “Of course he’s coming,” Bric says. “Why wouldn’t he come? I told him to meet me here so we can discuss what the hell just happened. Are you still wearing that dress?” he asks, walking over to me. “Go change, Rochelle. Everything is going to be fine.”

  I don’t think anything is going to be fine. But I get up anyway. I have to get Adley out of her clothes too.

  “Here,” Bric says. “I’ll take care of Adley. You take care of yourself.”

  I don’t fight him. I can’t. The mistakes are all I can think about. I just hand Adley over and go in to the bedroom. I pull on a pair of jeans and one of my well-worn Pagosa Springs t-shirts.

  Bric brings a refreshed Adley into the bedroom, just as I’m finishing up.

  “You’re quiet,” Bric says.

  “I just keep hearing Smith’s accusation over and over again.”

  “Yeah, well… I just keep hearing that stupid detective announcing the fact that he’s the one who found you. I cannot believe he did that.”

  “There’s just… so many lies,” I say. I feel so defeated. I don’t even know how to describe it.