Turning Point Club Box Set

by JA Huss

  The kind who invades someone’s privacy.

  The kind who steals little secrets and moments to use for himself later when he… when he has no more fantasies of his own and needs something to make him feel…

  Jesus, Jordan. Get a fucking grip.

  Alexander lets out a laugh and then climbs up onto the couch, pulling her close to him as he closes her legs and holds her tight.

  She melts. Melds her body into his, and they become one.

  It occurs to me then how much of them I’ve missed these past several years. How well they know each other. How she kept the little things that made her… her. And he kept the little things that made him… him. And then they rearranged them. Scattered them all around and scrambled them all up like a game of memory, waiting to be matched back up again in a new way.

  Yeah, they grew apart, but they’ve grown together too.

  And I missed it.

  They take a shower after that and I go back outside and sit by the river. Reliving their sex over and over again in my head. Unsure how I feel about it. Unsure what it was, actually. Which is dumb. Because it’s just… just two people who’ve been together for a very long time doing things they’ve done a million times before.

  It just bothers me though. How well they know each other. How each one knows just what to do. How to do it. When to do it.

  Why the fuck do they need me? I mean, shit, if I had that on film like the old days…

  I shake that thought away by shaking my head.

  That’s not how I remember sex with Augustine and Alexander. And we’ve fucked her together plenty of times back in the day.

  I remember it as… just… I dunno. Blind lust. Hard, thumping heart beats and sweaty bodies all twisted up in sheets. It was intimate, but not like this. More desperation and less devotion. It was urgent and reckless.

  Nothing they did in there was anything less than careful.

  So again… why am I here?

  I am no closer to that answer than I was before I watched them.

  A little while later Augustine comes outside, the screen door of the cabin smacking against the door frame as the spring swings it closed. She’s wearing a loose turquoise tank top and a pair of cut-off shorts, looking like the girl I left behind and not the one who brought me here today.

  She sits down next to me, smelling of soap, leans back, propped up with palms flat on the rock, and says, “So… what’d we do wrong?”

  I laugh. “What the fuck are you talking about? I felt like I was watching porn.”

  I look at her and find her looking at me with squinted eyes. “You didn’t even notice?”

  “Notice what? That he didn’t fuck you? Didn’t look like you needed it, Augustine.”

  “He didn’t come.”

  “Oh,” I say, thinking about that. “I guess I didn’t notice. I was too busy looking at you.”

  “Right? I mean, that’s why it took me so long to notice too! But he doesn’t come, Jordan.”

  “What do you mean? Like ever?”

  “Well, he comes when he masturbates. But I haven’t been able to make him come in almost a year.”

  “Are you fucking serious? But he gets hard. His cock is fucking huge.”

  “I know. There’s no problem in that area. He just… I just…” She winces and sighs. Like she knows what she needs to say, she’s just unwilling to say it.

  “You don’t turn him on?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “No. That’s not it.”

  “Then what?”

  “I dunno. He’s just…” She looks me in the eyes. “He wants more than me. He won’t leave me. I don’t want to leave him. But… he wants you. Here with us.”

  I laugh. So loud. “Come on.”

  “I mean it.”

  “No. Whatever your problem is, that’s not it. He can’t even kiss me without wanting to walk out, Augustine. This makes no sense.”

  “I’ve asked him about that. Why he doesn’t just… you know. With you.”

  “What’s he say?”

  “He says… he says you don’t want him the same way so he… can’t. He’s fucking weird, OK? I dunno. He’s just fucking weird.”

  “But you love him.”

  “He’s the only guy for me, Jordan.”

  Which, I’m not going to lie, fucking hurts to hear. Even if it can’t be true. I mean, she is here with me, right? Asking me to join them. But I keep my mouth shut because it’s not the time or the place for that kind of self-absorbed bullshit. She’s asking me for help. She wants me to save her marriage. And I want her to sell me that stupid building.

  This is a game.

  She wants me to put together a game for her, only I’m the one of the playing pieces.

  “Three weeks,” she says. “We didn’t finish our negotiation. But three weeks, OK? And if we can’t fix this in three weeks I’ll sell you the building and Alex and I will get out of your life.” She takes a deep breath and extends her hand. “Deal?”

  But there’s something behind her words. Something I recognize, just barely. Something nagging at the back of my mind. A little itch that says… Pay attention. This contract has small print somewhere. Print so tiny you can’t even see it.

  It’s the lawyer in me. The instincts I’ve honed over the last several years in court. The thing inside that recognizes the details not being negotiated.

  I shake her hand anyway.

  Partly because OK, I can handle three weeks of kink with two people I’ve already shared a shitload of kink with. And partly because that building is as good as mine.

  But mostly because this wasn’t how it was.

  We used to be good together. They used to be good together.

  “What happened?” I ask her.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean back when we were all together. You, me, Ixion, Alexander… it was fun, right?”

  She looks sad for a moment. Like we’re remembering two completely different things.

  But it was good. It was good…

  CHAPTER FOUR

  LA was unbearably hot that summer. I was on break from law school. Ixion and Augustine were working together by that time. Making film shorts and shit you do after film school. Alexander was the money. He had some consultant gig for the film industry.

  It was his loft we all lived in. The AC was broken, I remember that because it was motherfucking hot. He has this giant fan. Like one of those industrial wind machine things you see in gyms. It was so loud we’d have the TV on full blast and still couldn’t hear it but we couldn’t turn it off.

  I don’t even remember why the AC was broken. Maybe it was a scheduling thing. Couldn’t get anyone out or something. Because it was fixed later, when things were just getting ready to cool down.

  But the passion we had that summer kinda faded with the heat. It’s like we needed to sweat the lust out of us.

  Everything was uncomfortable. The sex, the sleep, hell, even the showers. Because you’d get out and the humidity would hit you like a wet blanket.

  Sometimes even Ixion was there, watching, as usual. He did join in once or twice, but not that summer. He just watched.

  It was me, and Alexander, and Augustine. Weeks and weeks of us.

  What happened to him? I wonder.

  He never had a problem kissing me back then. It didn’t take much to make him hard. And even though neither of us was looking for a man—we were just part of the triangle—we sure as fuck had some fun. Even when Augustine wasn’t there a few times.

  And she was… Jesus. She was the girl who could swing a bat, play pool, ride a motorcycle, and look hot doing it.

  I let out a small laugh, which makes Augustine look over at me, my question still hanging in the air between us.

  “You were different back then,” I say.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just…” I look at her and all the tomboy is gone now. She’s a woman. No trace of that girl. And even though she’s wearing shorts and a
tank top—pretty much what she wore every day back then too—it’s not the same. “You’re not the same.”

  “Explain,” she says. “Because I think I am. Inside, anyway, I am.”

  “Maybe,” I say. “But that look in your eyes—it’s gone now.”

  “What look?”

  “The wild, ya know. The dare. The don’t-fuck-with-me. It’s gone. You’re…” I shrug. “His wife now.”

  She makes a face. You know what it means when you see it, but I’m not sure there’s a word for it. It’s an eye roll, but more. Something in between disgust and contempt that comes out as a huff of air between barely parted lips.

  “You wanna know what’s different?” I ask.

  She looks at me and nods.

  “It’s Ixion.”

  She huffs again, but this time it comes with a very small smile. “No. He was never involved in this.”

  “I know, but he told me something a few months back. When he was mad at me. He said, ‘I was the glue.’ And I didn’t even really understand what he meant, ya know. But I’ve thought about that a lot since then and I think he’s right. He was the glue. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t Alexander. It was him.”

  “I’ve tried to talk to him, he’s not interested.”

  “I know, but that’s because he’s finally happy. He let the past go. He’s moved on and I’m glad for that. So leave him alone. Don’t bring him into this.”

  She sighs. Scratches her neck. Runs her fingers through her hair. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I told you, he won’t speak to me.”

  “You know it wasn’t him, right? You do know it was me.”

  “I know,” she says softly. “I’ve let it all go, Jordan. I’m over it. I just… I just want… I dunno.”

  “You want the past back, Augustine. And that’s not possible. I mean, I’ll play your little game, but it’s not going to matter. None of this can save your marriage if that’s what you think. If I were you, I’d accept what Alexander gives you with gratitude.”

  “The fuck?”

  I shrug. “He looked like he was having fun in there. So what’s the problem?”

  “The problem is… the problem is…” Her eyes dart back and forth, like she’s not sure what to say. “The problem is… if he refuses to come I’ll never get pregnant.”

  “Whoa,” I say. “If you think I’m giving the two of you a fucking kid, you can just fuck off right now. I’m not doing it.”

  “That’s not what I said. And anyway, that’s not the plan.”

  “The plan?” I say. Because that itch is back. The one telling me to look a little closer at the fine print. “What is the fucking plan? Alexander and I fuck around and what? He suddenly realizes he loves you and wants to stay?”

  “He wants you. He’s the one who wants the past back, not me. I’m doing this for him.”

  “Well, that’s funny. He said the same thing about you. So looks like none of us know what the fuck is going on. Maybe you should go back inside and figure that out, Augustine. Because I’m not some magic oracle with all the answers. I’m a fucking Pandora’s Box. So you’d better be very fucking careful if you decide to open me up.”

  She just stares at me. Eyebrows narrowed. Questioning. Lots of questions running through her mind about what I just said.

  And then—because I know her, because I know she won’t get up and leave—I get up and leave instead. I walk downstream, following the river.

  And I don’t even look back.

  The first time I met Augustine she and Ixion were sharing an apartment down the street from UCLA. It was a total shithole, but it was home. I used to come down from Stanford for spring break while I was in undergrad. At first to just kick it with Ix. But then, for both of them.

  The first time we ever fucked Alexander wasn’t there. It was just the three of us. I think she might’ve known Alexander at that time, but they weren’t a thing yet.

  She and I… well, it was lust at first sight. I was fucking her in the bathroom two hours later. We were all pretty drunk and Ixion had some people over, so he didn’t notice we were missing right away. I don’t know why I was fucking her in the bathroom. But it was fucking hot. I had her propped up on the sink, one leg raised in the air, my cock plunging inside her, disappearing, then pulling back out, slick and shiny with her desire. She was digging her nails into my shoulders the same way she was digging into Alexander’s inside.

  We both heard Ixion calling for us. People had left, he was suddenly aware we were gone. And the door wasn’t locked so he walked right in. Innocent mistake? Probably not. But no one cared. He just walked up to us, put his hands on her face, and kissed her mouth.

  And then I joined in.

  So maybe we were drunk. But we did it again a few more times before Ix figured out this was bad news for the working relationship they were forging. He backed away, slowly, quietly and without drama.

  And then it was just me and her. Ix would watch. That was always his thing. Even after Alexander joined us, he’d watch.

  But after we graduated and I moved down to LA for law school… that’s when shit got serious. That’s when I moved in with them.

  That’s what she’s trying to recreate with this little reunion.

  When I go back to the cabin it’s dark. But they’ve got lights on inside and it looks cozy and shit, ya know? Like… if I didn’t know better I’d think it was pretty fucking normal. Maybe even perfect.

  But when I open the door and walk inside Augustine is on the couch—the same place where Alexander fucked her earlier—reading a book. And Alexander is sitting at the kitchen table, talking business on his cell phone. He looks at me, nods his head, and never breaks his conversation.

  Augustine just turns a page in her book. She’s got her glasses on looking like a sexy nerd. Which used to make me want to fuck her when she wore that look back in LA.

  I flop into the chair opposite. The same one I was sitting in, watching her get fucked.

  Or fingered, as it was. Because Alexander never did fuck her, did he?

  “What are you reading?” I ask.

  “Required stuff,” she says, taking her glasses off so she can see me properly.

  “Required for what?”

  “I’m in grad school. Just online stuff. Getting an MFA.”

  I laugh, I can’t help it.

  “What?” she snaps.

  “Are you that bored with your life that you need grad school to keep you busy?”

  Her eyes dart over my shoulder and when I look, Alexander has finished his phone call and is standing behind me. “I’m not bored,” she says.

  But she’s not talking to me. She’s talking to him.

  “Want a drink?” Alexander asks me, ignoring her.

  “Sure,” I say. “I’ll have what you’re having.”

  I feel Alexander retreat back into the kitchen. Hear the sound of glassware and ice. Drinks being poured.

  “I’m not bored,” Augustine says again. This time she’s talking to me.

  “Well, why the fuck do you need an MFA then?”

  “Maybe because I want to better myself?”

  Alexander is standing in front of me then. Handing me a drink. I take the glass, take a sip, and shrug. “Whatever.”

  Alexander sits on the couch next to her. Hand immediately on her knee. And I don’t think it’s a possessive gesture, either. I think it’s just habit.

  “So,” he says, looking at me. “What have you been up to, Jordan?”

  And that’s how we spend the rest of the evening. Small-talking.

  I just… tell them. Because whatever, right? Who cares? And my business is safe. No feelings at all attached to my business. It’s just me, and my dad, and the law firm.

  And it’s funny. Because we have an endless stream of small talk. We never stop small-talking. Some of it is memories. Most of it is catching up. But all of it is… boring.

  Some time around midnight I say, “So where do I sleep?”

 
; And Alexander says, “With us, of course.”

  There’s only one bedroom in the cabin and it has a king-size bed. I’m on one side. Alexander is on the other. And Augustine is between us.

  We are all naked.

  We are all staring up at the ceiling like three strangers lying under a single white sheet.

  We are all uncomfortable.

  And then there’s a shuffling. And movement. And a hand on my bare stomach that sends chills up my spine.

  Her hand. Placed there. By his hand.

  “You can have her tonight,” he says. And then he turns over. Giving us permission and dismissing us in the same moment.

  I turn my head. Just barely able to see her turn hers. Our eyes meet.

  Then she turns over, hugs him, and sighs.

  What the fuck am I doing here?

  In the morning I’m the first one up. I’m not even sure it qualifies as morning, but I’m up. I can’t take it anymore.

  I have several viable escape plans.

  One. Steal their car.

  Two. Wake one of them up and ask for a ride into town.

  Three. Walk away.

  Aside from stealing the car, these are the same options I had yesterday.

  Why. Am. I. Here?

  “Why are you up?”

  Alexander is standing in the doorway naked, hard, and sleepy.

  “Dude, you wanna take me into FoCo and drop me off somewhere? Because otherwise I’m stealing your car.”

  He lets out a small laugh, walks into the kitchen, and starts making coffee.

  I’m staring at his ass. It’s pretty nice.

  “Well?” I ask.

  “What can I do to make you stay?”

  “Why do you want me to stay? And don’t say she wants me, OK? She says you want me. I feel very unwanted. So let’s stop talking in circles.”

  “Obviously I’m looking to improve our relationship. And you’re a part of that.”

  “How? It makes no sense, Alexander. I’ve been gone almost eight years now. We’ve all moved on.”

  “She hasn’t.”

  “She says the same thing about you and you know what I see? I see two people making excuses and blaming me for their issues. If you don’t love her—”