by JA Huss
“I do love her,” he says, interrupting me. “And she loves me.”
“So what is the fucking problem?”
He turns to face me. Still naked. Still hard. Still very fucking distracting. “The problem is we are allowed to love more than one person in a lifetime.”
“So you two… what? Swing and shit?”
“No,” he says. “That’s not what we mean. We want you, Jordan.”
“I hear that. But I don’t see it. And I don’t feel it either.”
“That’s because it’s taken us all these years to admit it and now that we have, now that we’re here… well… we’re afraid.”
“Of?”
“It’s a risk, right? Loving you. Together. There’s always that doubt in your head, ya know. Maybe she’ll love you more than me. Maybe you’ll love her more than me. Maybe I’ll love you more than her.”
I… don’t know what to say to that. So I just say the truth. “I don’t love you guys.”
Alexander leans back a little more. Hands gripping the counter. His cock still semi-hard. Eyes on mine. He says nothing.
“I mean…” I try to explain. “It was fun, ya know. It was hot.” And then I laugh. “Literally, remember?”
He nods.
“But that’s all it was. Just fun.”
Alexander remains quiet. It’s unsettling and I start to fidget, lean back against the counter, mirroring him.
“You know why it was hot?” he finally says.
“Yeah, the AC was broke.”
“You remember why it was broke?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head.
“People kept getting up on the roof that summer. Stealing the components out of the unit.”
I laugh. “Oh, no shit? I don’t remember that.”
“No,” he says. “You wouldn’t because it wasn’t your place, ya know? And I don’t mean that like… like a being a dick or anything. I just mean, it wasn’t your concern, right? It was mine. The reason it feels different now than it did then is because we were young. You, and Ix, and Augustine were all kids. And to you guys it was just fun. Just a phase, maybe. That’s probably true for Ixion. He’s moved on. Found his way.”
I have to laugh at that. Because Ixion, fuck-up of the century, is being called the adult in this conversation.
“And now we’re living this other life. One where August and I are married and having problems. One where you’re adrift and having problems.”
“Dude, I’m cool, man. I’m not having problems. For the most part things are going real well.”
“For the most part, you say? Well, I’d have to disagree, Jordan. You’re a top-notch lawyer now, sure. On your way to becoming one of the best defense litigators in the country. Gonna make full partner soon, probably. And yet… this side business you run. Your Game, I think it’s called. And this business about the building. It’s all, sadly, the same old, same old.”
“You don’t know me, so don’t pretend like you do.”
“I did know you. Pretty intimately.”
“Well, clearly that’s changed since you can’t even bring yourself to kiss me properly anymore. I mean, what’s the point of all this?” I throw up my hands. “You don’t like me that way.”
“You’re right,” he says. “I don’t like you that way. But I do like you another way.”
“What other way?”
“The way you are with us.”
I huff some air. This is so stupid.
“I never walked out, Jordan. That was you. You hurt her—”
“I’m not that guy anymore.”
“No, you’re this guy now.”
He’s starting to piss me off. So I say, “Just go home. Just sell me the building and forget about me and take her home.”
He’s shaking his head before I’m even done talking. “She’s not going home with me if this doesn’t work. She’s going somewhere, but I won’t be with her.”
“I can’t save your fucking marriage, Alexander. I can’t fix things for you.”
“Our marriage is already over. That display we gave you last night… that’s all that’s left of us. Her getting off, me getting her off… that’s it, that’s all there is. And you know why, Jordan? Because it was never supposed to be the two of us. Believe me, we’ve been to a lot of fucking therapy trying to come to terms with why this won’t work. And it took years for us to both admit that it was you who held us together.”
Ixion’s words echo in my head. When we fought last January. I was the glue, he’d said. “I’m not the glue,” I say. “That isn’t me. I was the one who broke us apart. I was—”
“We’re here,” Alexander says. “We’re here, Jordan. Because it was you. And you can believe that or not. You can walk out and never look back if you want. Or…” He comes towards me in three quick steps, places his hand on the side of my neck, leans in and kisses my mouth. “Or,” he whispers. “Or you can take off your fucking clothes, follow me into the bedroom, get into the bed with us, and try again.”
He lets go of me and backs away.
Then he turns and disappears into the hallway.
I’m so stunned I just stand there for a moment. Feeling the touch of his lips on my lips for a minute or more. I place the tips of my fingers on them. Confused.
They murmur to each other in the bedroom.
Augustine’s soft voice. His low response. Then silence.
We’re allowed to love more than one person in a lifetime.
Are we? I mean, sure. We are. But more than one person at a time? How does that ever work?
That’s why we had the club. That’s why people went there. It wasn’t love, it was just sex. There were rules, and clear expectations, and it was all… safe. We knew where we stood, we knew it was a fantasy. We knew the moment we stepped outside the door, reality took over.
And what Augustine and Alexander are telling me now is… is that it doesn’t have to be that way.
Except it does.
Plural relationships are temporary arrangements. Things get in the way if they go on too long. Feelings grow unevenly, and expectations change unilaterally, and emotions run wild.
That’s how it always ends.
We all know this. We’ve all lived this.
And it fucking hurt.
So why are we trying to relive that pain? Why would we want to?
They talk softly again. Probably wondering what I’m gonna do next.
And that’s the problem.
I have no idea.
But as a lawyer I know the best defense is silence.
So I leave. I walk out. I make my way up to the main road and spend the next hour wondering if they’ll come pick me up.
But they don’t.
I get to the nearest store, call a car service in Fort Collins, and drink bitter black coffee as I wait for my ride home.
CHAPTER FIVE
I don’t hear from them for the rest of the weekend but sure as shit, Alexander is at my office at noon on Monday.
Too bad I’m not there.
I’m in court. Well, sort of. I’m hiding at the courthouse.
Which kinda makes me feel stupid and childish, but fuck it. I don’t know what to do with these two. And the funny thing is—the really ironic thing is… six months ago I’d have felt totally different.
I sit on a hallway bench, unwrap the avocado toast sandwich I just got from a lunch truck outside, and try to unpack my feelings at the same time.
My phone dings a text. I didn’t answer Alexander’s first text, so this is… yup. Augustine. It’s an emoji making a mad face.
Six months ago… what was different about me?
Ixion, I decide. He and I were practically strangers. His life was a mess. And then I came along, hired him to help me with that game, we had it out (a few times) and even though I don’t think we’re exactly friends now, I’m pretty sure he’d bail me out of jail if I ever got arrested.
That’s my benchmark for friendship. Can I cal
l this person to bail me out?
I bailed him out before. But that’s not why I think he’d be there for me. I just feel like we’ve turned a corner. He sees new me, not old me. Maybe he hasn’t forgiven me. I did kinda fuck up his life. But he’s at peace with it.
Maybe that’s the most you can expect from your mistakes?
My phone rings. Alexander. I tab accept and say, “Yes.”
“So you’re done, I take it?”
“Yeah. I’m out. You two need to figure your shit out on your own. I can’t be your glue.”
“Cool,” he says. “Fine. But…” He pauses. For too long.
“But what?”
“So you wanna go to dinner tonight?”
“Dude—”
“Just me, man. Not her.”
I do meet up with him. Partly because I’m curious what he’s up to. Like, is he wearing me down? Trying to make me change my mind? Is he using me to piss Augustine off? What is his fucking deal?
We meet at the restaurant, which is a small, intimate Italian place suitable for new couples. He gets there first, waiting for me outside in a slow, misty drizzle under a softly glowing yellow streetlamp.
He greets me with a smile, an outstretched hand—which I take, and shake—as he pulls me into a hug that comes with a firm clap on the back.
“I know you’re avoiding me, so I appreciate the fact that you’re here.”
“Look, I’m not your fix, OK?”
“Consider that subject closed then.”
“Closed?”
“Done.”
“You’re not here to talk me into it? Or tell me why I’m so important?”
“Let’s go inside,” he says, waving me towards the door.
And then he reaches ahead of me to pull the door open, like I’m his fucking date.
Inside all the arrangements were made by him, so he takes charge. And it’s fucking weird because I feel like a woman.
How the fuck did I get here? I swear to God, none of this is my fault. I did nothing to ask for this bullshit. I’ve just been doing my thing these past several years. Moving on, and up, and a little bit out. I put things behind me for a reason and I have no interest in bringing them all front and center again.
We get to the table, which is an intimate two-seater with a fucking candle between us.
The waiter is smiling, happy to present us with the chef’s specials, and then leaves us to get our drinks. Which Alexander orders for both of us.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask, once the waiter is gone.
“Showing you a nice time,” he says, placing his napkin on his lap. “Just relax, Jordan. Enjoy yourself for once.”
“I can’t enjoy myself if I have to spend every waking minute wondering what your game is.”
He smiles. Chuckles. “Ironic, isn’t it? You, the game master, think I’m the one playing. I’m here for you, I thought I made that clear the other day.”
“You want to date me?” I ask.
“Yes, Jordan,” he says. “Yes. Now that Augustine knows you’re not interested in her or the three of us, I feel like…” He shrugs. “I feel like we can start over.”
“As lovers?” I laugh and it’s not a chuckle. It’s kinda loud.
“You’re not attracted to me?”
I look him over. Alexander is a good-looking man. He’s athletic. And if I remember correctly he’s into horses. Like he plays polo or something like that. He’s got a square jaw, piercing blue eyes, and sandy-blond hair cropped close on the sides and a little longer in the front. So every now and then—despite the fact that he’s well-groomed—a strand or two will escape and fall over his forehead.
We’re about the same height. Six two for me, maybe six one for him.
Both come from money, both well-educated, both…
“So what do you do now?” I ask. Because I realize I don’t actually know anything about the guy. I didn’t pay much attention to how he made money back in LA, I just knew it had something to do with the film industry.
“I run my family corporation. Which is a major arts endowment.”
“So you’re what? A professional board member?”
“You could say that.”
The waiter appears with a bottle of Macallan 18, pours a healthy amount into our glasses, then leaves.
Alexander raises his and says, “To Denver. May this city bring us more than we had in LA.”
“Sure,” I say, “Whatever,” taking a sip and pausing to enjoy the burn of an excellent eighteen-year-old Scotch.
He watches me, smiling. Making me feel self-conscious. It’s been a long time since a man could put me on edge like this, but Alexander always was that man, wasn’t he?
“I’m so tired of asking this question, but here goes. Why are we here?”
He shrugs. Puts his glass down. Slowly twirls it on the tablecloth with his fingers. “We could find another girl,” he finally says.
“What?”
“Someone who isn’t August, ya know? Someone new. No baggage. No expectations. Just… a fresh start.”
I have to run all that in my head several times before I can accept he actually said that. That those words just came out of his mouth.
“I mean, we could try just us, ya know? But I don’t think it would work.”
I just blink at him. “What?”
“Jordan,” he says, leaning forward. “I came here for you and I’m not leaving until I get you.”
“What happened to the guy who didn’t want to kiss me two weeks ago?”
“That’s because…” He pauses. “That was Augustine’s idea. This one is mine.”
“You’re in love with me?”
“With us, Jordan. I want a plural relationship, one with two men and one woman, but maybe I don’t want that with August. She’s…”
I wait for him to finish and when he doesn’t I get impatient. “She’s what?”
“Look,” he says, holding up a hand. “All your reservations go back to how it ended with the two of you. It’s not really about me, is it? So she’s the one you’re avoiding. I’m just trying to make this work.”
“I don’t understand how you got the impression—”
“You’re living in a ten-thousand-square-foot house by yourself, Jordan. That’s how. You spend your life playing games with people because you can’t play one yourself. You feel guilty for who you were, so now you hide under the umbrella of friend to everyone. Just as long as they don’t get too close, right? No one gets close to you. Not even Ixion. I talked to him, ya know? He told me what you’ve been up to. Trying to make up for past mistakes is exhausting. So why don’t we pronounce you absolved and move on, huh? It would be so much less exhausting.”
I just stare at him.
He waits, but when it becomes clear I’m not going to reply, he says, “You don’t need that club, Jordan. Not if you have what it gives you in real life.”
The Club? This is about the Club? How the fuck?
Still, I remain quiet.
“New girl? What do you say?”
I stand up, throwing my napkin down on my unused silverware, and button my suit coat. “I think I’m leaving now.”
When I get outside and look around, still confused and stunned, he’s behind me, hand on my arm, pulling me into an alley. He slams me up against the brick building, places his hands around my neck, and leans in like he’s gonna kiss me.
But he doesn’t kiss me. His mouth finds my ear and he says, “I will pursue you relentlessly. I will not take no as an answer, Jordan. So stop fighting me and just give in.”
I slap his hands away from my face, tug on my suit coat, and say, “Go home to your wife.”
I end up at Chella and Smith’s house down on Little Raven Street. It’s one of those million-dollar townhouses just on the other side of Union Station. Planned community-type neighborhoods that attract young up-and-coming couples.
It’s raining hard when I press the doorbell and peer into the long, slim wi
ndow on the side of the door.
I see Smith stop what he’s doing in the kitchen to look at the door, then put something down on the counter and wipe his hands on his jeans as he walks down the hallway, their husky dog, Joe, trailing him as he hops down the three stairs to the front door and opens it.
“Jordan?”
I hold out a bouquet of flowers as an offering. “Sorry I haven’t been by sooner to see Chella and the baby. Is this a good time?”
“Jordan?” Chella calls from the other room.
Smith looks annoyed when I smile and push past him, but I don’t care. Smith and I are only acquaintances. It’s Chella I come to see.
I find her nursing her new baby in the back living area, all curled up on their overstuffed couch with her legs underneath her. She smiles big at me. “Finally!”
“I’m sorry,” I say, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek. Then I point to the flowers and say, “I know I’m like two months past due, but things just really got busy.”
“Yes, that game was amazing. Well done, Wells. Well done.”
“Yeah.” I smile. “And you played your part perfectly,” I say, sitting down next to her.
“Well, whatever game you’re here to rope her into now, she’s not interested,” Smith says. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest, scowling at me as he half-sits, half-leans on the edge of the couch arm. “And she’s busy. So make it quick, Wells.”
Like I said, he and I… we’re not really friends.
“Smith?” Chella says, looking up at him. “Can you take Daniel and put him to bed for me?” She smiles bigger. I want to glance at Smith, because I’m sure he’s probably silently mouthing a litany of things like, Get him the fuck out of here, or No, I’m not leaving you alone with him. But I don’t dare break her spell, so I force myself not to.
Smith grumbles something about… something, but he takes the baby and disappears upstairs, their two Yorkies and the husky following on his heels.
“So what’s up?” Chella asks, fixing her nursing blouse.
I sigh, then let it all spill out as fast as I can because I know Smith is gonna come back and kick me out, and I really need a third party to give me some advice right now.