by JA Huss
“I’m just enjoying the ride.”
“Listen carefully, darling,” Bric says. “The ride hasn’t started yet. So don’t get too excited.”
Before I can snap a reply back at him, we’re moving forward and several young men are pulling our doors open in haste.
I smile at the one helping me, as he takes my hand and pulls me from the car. “Thank you,” I say. But I’m fuming inside.
I don’t like this Bric guy. I don’t like the way he talks to me. Like I’m a child. You’re so young, Nadia. What do you know about anything?
Asshole.
I know plenty. So much more than I should.
Let me take you to school, Mr. Bricman. You listen carefully.
I’m the one with the power here.
Don’t you forget it.
Chapter Seven - Bric
It’s a good thing Jordan is here. He’s lively. A conversationalist. And he’s very interested in this Nadia girl, so he’s trying his best to keep the conversation going after we order drinks. Nadia looks… pretty, but professional. Like this is a business meeting. I’m wearing the same suit I put on this morning. I didn’t see Jordan this morning, so I’m not sure if this suit he’s wearing is special or not. I don’t pay much attention to what he wears from day to day.
But all of it together makes this… not a date.
I sigh as I take a sip of brandy.
“Am I boring you already, Mr. Bricman?”
“Not in the least, Nadia. And please,” I say, setting my glass back down on the white linen tablecloth. “It’s Elias.” I glance at Jordan, who is shooting me a confused look. “What?” I ask him.
“Elias, huh?” He tries to hide a smirk when he takes a sip of his whiskey.
“I’m trying to pick up the mood. Why am I getting the feeling none of us want to be here?”
“I want to be here,” Jordan says. “How about you, Nadia? Is Elias”—he stresses my name with a sneer—“someone you see yourself with?”
Nadia shrugs. She’s drinking wine. They carded her and she produced an ID. So I guess she’s at least twenty-one. “I don’t do anything I’m not interested in.”
“How do you manage that?” I ask her. I’m genuinely curious. “Surely you must do lots of things you’re not really interested in.”
“No,” she says. She carries herself with confidence. Not quite arrogant, but definitely on the edge of it. Stuck-up. Snooty. Too good. All words a casual acquaintance might use to describe Nadia Wolfe. “I made a promise to myself when I was a child. I would never cower to the demands of others. Unless, of course,” she says, winking at Jordan, “I enjoy cowering.”
“You don’t cower, Nadia. You always put up a good fight.”
“Like now,” I mumble.
“You didn’t answer my question. Am I disappointing you, Elias?”
“Not yet,” I say, taking another sip of brandy. “But I think you have the potential.”
Jordan laughs. I try not to, because I’m being a dick and I know it. But fuck it. She’s being a bitch.
“Should we call it a night then?” Nadia actually stands up like she’s gonna walk out.
“Come on, Nadia,” Jordan says. “He’s just fucking with you.”
I look her in the eye. Meet her gaze. Hold it prisoner. “I’m just trying to lighten the mood, Miss Wolfe. But by all means, you’re free to walk out. Just know that you can’t ever come back.”
“Is that a rule?” she asks, taking her seat once more. People are looking at us. I don’t like to be stared at. But if she wants to make a scene, that’s on her. I’m not gonna let it be a reflection on me.
“Yes,” I say. “That is a rule. You stay, we’re together. You walk out, we’re not. Take it or leave it.”
“Can I get this in writing?” she asks.
I pull the contract out of my suit coat pocket and place the thick envelope on the table. “Of course you can.”
She glances at Jordan. Maybe nervous. Maybe not. He nods to her. “Sign it,” he says. “It’s all standard language.”
Nadia reaches for the envelope, pulls out the stack of folded papers, and begins to read. She looks up after a few seconds. Stares at me. “I told you I’m already playing games with several other men.”
“So quit,” Jordan says.
I say nothing. I just stare her down and slowly sip my drink.
Nadia redirects her gaze to Jordan. “I like them. I’m winning. Why should I quit?”
“Then why are you here?” Jordan asks.
I’m still silent. Letting Jordan field this one.
“Because I was intrigued. But Elias has already written me off as a poor loser. I don’t know if the two of you deserve my full attention.”
“So walk out,” I say. “If you’re waiting for me to beg you to stay, well”—I laugh—“you’re gonna grow old waiting for that to happen.”
“It’s just fun, Nadia,” Jordan says, shooting me a let-me-do-the-talking look. I suddenly feel like I’m playing the game as someone else. As Smith, actually. I’m usually the one in control and he’s the one being a dick.
And that’s a little bit sad. I miss that old game.
“We’re just here for the fun. Just ignore Bric’s bad mood, OK? He’s getting over some shit.”
She lifts one eyebrow at me. I roll my eyes in return. “Now that is interesting,” she says. “What is it you’re getting over, Elias?” She sips her wine and waits.
“Nothing that concerns you.” I don’t bother shooting Jordan a chastising look for bringing my personal life into this little meeting. He’ll get an earful later. I won’t put on a show for this stranger.
“OK,” she says, dropping it and refocusing on the papers in her hand. “This says payment. We’ve already discussed this. I don’t want it, you’re insisting on it, so I am scratching this out.” She actually has a pen too. Where she just pulled that from, I have no idea. She draws a line through the section about money. And then begins to write something in.
I don’t want to crane my neck to get a better look. I don’t want to show her that I’m intrigued. But I can’t help it. She’s renegotiating my fucking contract.
“Do you want to know what I wrote?” she says, still writing.
“Yes,” Jordan says. God, this guy. Sometimes I think he has no game at all. He’s way too eager for this girl. What makes her so special?
OK. So she’s a ballerina. I admit, that’s pretty cool. And she’s beautiful with her pale skin, long legs, and sweet face. But all the players are pretty. I think Jordan likes her because she’s aloof. Distant. And she tries to dominate him. It gets him off. He likes her public displays of anger.
And if I’m being honest, that whole slapping gig she pulls on him—it’s fucking hot. It might be the only reason I’m here.
I wonder if I could get her to slap me in this restaurant?
I look around at the country-club types, all buttoned up and proper, sitting at their impeccably laid out tables covered in expensive food and drink, and almost laugh.
I should show her who’s in charge here.
“Write whatever you want in that contract, Nadia. I’ll sign it.”
“You will?” she asks. I can tell she doesn’t want to look up at me. She’s trying very hard to not look up at me.
But when she fails, I get a thrill of victory as I meet her eyes. They are brown. Just plain old brown. But not plain, either. They are lit up with fire. With determination. With strength.
Maybe that’s what Jordan likes about her? The fierce look in her eyes?
“Of course,” I say. “I’m gonna get what I want out of it no matter what you do to that contract.”
“And what’s that?” she asks.
“You.”
She looks back down at the contract, quickly averting her gaze. Maybe she even blushes a little, but the light in here is too dim to really make that determination for sure.
I’m so going to win this game.
“
I wrote what I want out of it. Since you’re so easy to please, Elias.” She puts her pen down and pushes the contract over to me with one finger. “Sign then, if you’re so agreeable.”
I pick it up and read her hand-written words.
Payment to Nadia Wolfe to include something dear from Elias Bricman and Jordan Wells.
I shrug and hand it over to Jordan’s outstretched hand. “What’s that mean?” he asks. “Something dear? Like… my car? Or something from my apartment?”
“Think bigger, Jordan,” Nadia says, feeling confident. “Any questions?” This one is directed at me.
“None,” I reply. “I’m well versed in the rules of the game.”
“Good,” she says, chuckling as she leans back in her chair. She takes a long sip of wine and smiles to herself. Like the cat with the grin. The one in the tree that’s always putting something over on the other characters in the story.
Jordan reaches across the table, grabs her pen, and signs his name. He passes the contract back to me. I sign, then tuck it back inside the envelope and hide it away in my coat pocket. “I’ll email you a copy.”
“I really don’t need a copy. I don’t need a contract, either. I’m not interested in this game business. I’m playing because it’s fun.” She looks at Jordan. “Like you said, right? It’s just fun.”
“We usually supply an apartment,” I say. “But not this time, Nadia.”
“I don’t need an apartment,” she says.
“I know. And I don’t want you there anyway. You can live wherever you want, but we’re going to play at my house.”
“Which house?” Jordan asks.
“My Club apartment.”
He raises both eyebrows at me. Surprised.
I don’t like to bring girls to my apartment. Last night with Nadia was a daring move on Jordan’s part. Bringing her to me like that. I don’t want to share my space. But I’ve decided to move out of the Club, so who the fuck cares. It’s not my space anymore. “I have some things in there we might find useful,” I say to Jordan. “A little bit of this and a little bit of that.”
Jordan grins, catching my meaning.
Nadia’s hand on my cock under the table jerks my attention back to her. She rubs me through the fabric of my pants and I grow hard and thick at her touch. “If we were there,” she purrs, “and not here, I’d be under this table sucking you off right now.”
“Fuck, yeah,” Jordan whispers back.
“And if I could reach you, Jordan, I’d be playing with your cock right now too.”
Dirty. Little. Whore.
“If we were at my apartment and you touched me without permission, Miss Wolfe,” I growl at her in a deep, low voice, “I’d slap your face and make you choke on my dick for not knowing your place.”
She withdraws her hand. But her retreat comes with a devious smile.
I’m just about to set her straight with another warning when the waiter comes up to the table to take our order.
I order for all of us, just wanting to get rid of the company so I can resume my threats. “You better know what you’re getting into, Miss Wolfe. Because this game is not what you think.”
I wait for Jordan to run interference like he usually does when I get in a mood like this. But he keeps quiet. It’s Nadia who speaks.
“No,” she says softly. “It’s not what you think either.”
I think about her after that. I can’t stop thinking about her. She will be very interesting at least. Not anything like Chella. So far away from Rochelle, there’s no comparison. And I have no feelings for her other than pure carnal desire.
It’s just a peek, I tell myself. I know how to control it. I know how to navigate my way through the puzzle of an erotic maze.
I will win this one.
There is no fucking way in hell this stupid girl will come out on top.
The rest of dinner is pleasant enough. I drink. Jordan and Nadia talk like they are old friends. They already know each other. She is his, after all.
I ponder that as they talk about her job. His job. Last weekend—apparently, he took her to a play—and what they are doing for New Year’s.
“We have a party on New Year’s,” I say absently. They look at me. Almost startled. Like they forgot I was here. It doesn’t bother me at all. That’s the funny part of all this. None of this bothers me. He can have her. I’m passing time, that’s all. “The Club has a party, remember?” I say again, looking at Jordan this time.
“Does that mean I’m invited?” Nadia asks.
Usually this is a great big no. None of the girls we keep in that apartment are allowed to participate in Club business.
But fuck it. She doesn’t even count. And she won’t be living in the apartment.
“Sure,” I say. “As long as you’re prepared for what will happen when you get there.”
She waits to see if I’ll explain. But I don’t. I just pour myself another drink from the bottle the waiter left after we finished dinner, and enjoy leaving her hanging.
“Well, is it a secret? Or are you going to tell me?”
“It’s…” Jordan begins, but stops. “It’s Club stuff, Nadia. You don’t want to participate in that.”
“Sure she does, Jordan,” I say. “She’s a dirty fucking whore.”
“Nice,” Nadia says. “Is that how you refer to all your female members?”
“We don’t have female members. But yes. The men in my Club join because their wives are addicted to dirty sex and want to be fucked by more than one man at a time. You get us. Do you need more than two, Nadia?”
She glares at me.
“I can arrange another player. In fact, most of the games I play involve three men.”
“This isn’t your game, Elias,” she says.
I lift my drink to her in a mock cheer. “No, it isn’t.”
She ignores me after that. And when we leave, it’s Jordan who helps her on with her coat. It’s Jordan’s arm she hangs on as we walk to the valet. It’s Jordan who drives—I’m well on my way to drunk. And it’s Jordan who walks her up to her apartment.
I wait in front of the building in the passenger seat of my own fucking car until he comes back and gets in with me.
“Well?” he says. “What do you think?”
I shrug. Eager to get home and do some more drinking. “She’ll do.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Jordan asks as we make our way through the nearly empty streets of downtown towards the club. I stare at the gold dome of the capitol building, lost in my own thoughts. “Well?” Jordan prods. “You gonna answer me?”
“Nothing,” I say.
What I don’t say is… I’m thinking about Rochelle and Adley living their little happily ever after with Quin. I’m thinking about Chella and Smith and when that announcement will come. The one when Smith says, “We’re pregnant.” I’m thinking about how they’ve moved on and I’m still here… alone.
Because I’m not thinking about any of that.
“I like her,” Jordan says as we pull up to Turning Point. “I think she’s… interesting.”
“Well, good for you. Do you need a ride home? Tell the valet to give you a car.”
And then I get out, slam the door, and walk inside without saying goodbye.
I don’t know why I’m so pissed off, but I am.
I don’t talk to anyone in the lobby. I don’t stop and have a drink at Smith’s bar on my way upstairs.
I just disappear.
My apartment is… God. I need to get the fuck out of this place.
I walk into the kitchen, get the bottle of brandy and a glass, and sit down on the couch. I stare out the window, just fixated on the capitol building, wishing I could turn back time one year. One year and a few weeks, anyway. Back to when Rochelle was just a weird mystery and Chella, Smith, and Quin were still mine.
My cell phone rings in my suit coat pocket. I take it out, and look at the screen.
Nadia’s number. I recognize it from t
he other night when I called her.
“Yes,” I say, after tabbing accept.
“I just wanted to thank you for a lovely evening.”
I almost snort my drink. “Was it lovely?” I ask.
“Yes, it was. Didn’t you have a good time?”
“Not particularly,” I say.
“Was it me?”
“Are you needy tonight, Miss Wolfe?”
“Yes,” she says. She’s using that purring voice. The low, whispery, husky one. “I thought we’d spend the night together after dinner. I can’t deny I was a little disappointed.”
“Well.” I sigh. “New game, new rules, right?”
“I’m not sure. I never played the old game.”
“No, you didn’t,” I say. Which is the whole problem. I want the old game back and it’s gone for good. But I don’t tell her any of that. She’s not worth it.
“Would you like a goodnight… kiss?” she coos.
“You want to make sucky-face noises in the phone?” I ask. “Pass.”
She laughs then. A soft one. Maybe even a real one. “No, you dumbass. Like… phone sex, Bricman. Come on. Why are you so surly?”
“You want to phone-sex me?”
“Are you a phone sex virgin?”
“No… not exactly.”
“Have you ever done it before?”
“Did Jordan put you up to this?” I ask her.
“No. I just kissed him goodnight a few minutes ago. He enjoyed it, he said. Came all over my imaginary face.”
It’s my turn to laugh. Just a small one.
“Ha,” she says, still almost whispering. “I made you smile. So do you? Want to phone-sex, I mean?”
I look down at my cock and find it… uninterested.
“I can make it fun.”
“Were you a cam girl in your other life?”
“No,” she says. Still playful. “I just think it’s erotic to get someone off with words, you know? And imagination. It’s an art, I think.”
“And you’re what? A come artist?”
She chortles this time. “Call it whatever you want. But how about you unbutton your pants while we talk? Take that fat cock out and hold it. Grip it tight for me, Elias.”
And maybe I’m just drunk, or maybe I’m just lonely, or maybe I’m actually thinking it might be fun, but I do it.