Taking Turns (Turning #1)(44)

“But everything is all right? You’re fine with Smith? And your time with Quin was… fun?”

“Yes,” she says. “Are we supposed to talk about that stuff?”

“As Number One, Smith was in charge of the first report. As Number Three, I’m in charge of the last one. We won’t talk about it again after this week, but if anything goes wrong you can come to me and I’ll take care of it. That’s part of my role.”

“OK,” she says. “So what time will you be here tomorrow?”

“I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“AM?”

“No.” I laugh. “PM. Just before the party. We’ll have dinner downstairs with Smith and Quin. The wrap-up meeting. And then we’ll go to the party and have a good time. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds like I’ll have a lot of time to wonder about you before you get here.” She tries to stifle a yawn, but doesn’t succeed.

“You’re tired,” I say into the phone. “Get some sleep and we’ll talk more tomorrow.”

“OK,” she says. “Good night.”

“Good night, Chella.”

Smith is grinning at me when I end the call. “What?” I ask, annoyed about him being here.

“Nothing,” he says. But he changes his mind about that answer quick enough. “She’s gonna do it. I know she will.”

“You hope she will,” I say.

“I’ll give her two more weeks but honestly, I think she’ll be up for it sooner.”

“Hmm,” I say. “Are we up for it?”

“Fuck.” Smith laughs. “After three years of that stupid Rochelle? Hell, yes we’re up for it. Don’t you miss it? Because Jesus f*ck, I do. I miss it. I want it again.”

“You’re the only one who didn’t like Rochelle,” I say. “You’re the one who f*cked it up. It was your fault it never worked the way we planned.”

He hesitates for a moment and I wait to see if he’ll tell me something more. Explain himself. Why he did what he did. But he doesn’t. He just says, “Well, this one will work the way we planned. So I’ll see you tomorrow night. And I cannot f*cking wait to see the look on her face when you explain your rule.”

Smith gets up and walks out of the private bar overlooking the Black Room. It’s busy downstairs tonight, but he doesn’t go down there. Just waits for the elevator and when it comes, he disappears inside.

A waiter come up the stairs and talks to the sentry. They both look at me and I nod when I see the slip of paper in his hand.

The sentry places it on the table in front of me and I open it. Lucinda wants to meet with me.

I look over the railing and find her downstairs with her husband. She’s smiling up at me, hoping… but I shake my head no.

Sorry, love. I’m not in the mood, that answer says.

She frowns, then leans into her husband’s ear to whisper. Ten minutes later they are gone.

Good. I saw enough of her last weekend to last me a lifetime. She’s not that interesting. Boring is the word I’d use for Lucinda.

But Marcella Walcott. Now that woman has potential. And if Smith is right, things will get very interesting, very soon.





Wednesday goes very, very slowly at the club. Christmas is all anyone is thinking about now. December has traditionally been a slow month for Turning Point Club, and this year it’s no different. The breakfast crowd is always busy. People work. Even on Christmas Eve, the people who come here work. They are A-types. Addicted to the thrill of success. Like me. Like Smith. Like Quin. And they like to start their day with some friendly networking.

Yes, Turning Point is a sex club. We have an exclusive membership. If you have to ask how to become a member, you will never become a member. It’s by invitation only and we only accept a new member when another member quits.

That doesn’t happen often. Fathers pass this little perk onto sons. In fact, Turning Point Club membership is a very popular wedding gift in my world.

The real Club is down on the lower levels, but the White Room is open to the public and filled to capacity for dinner Monday through Thursday. If you’re lucky enough to get a reservation. And since we have forty-two active Club members who eat here regularly with their families, mistresses, business associates, etc., it’s not easy to get one of those.

The Black Room is not open to the public, even though it’s right across the main lobby. Members only in the bar. A little peek into the forbidden for the masses. Not much happens in there. Just bar stuff. Drinking, food, laughing, informal parties… shit like that.

But it intrigues people. No one knows what we do. Only the members know. Hell, Rochelle never even knew. She never made it downstairs. Smith was done with her long before she ever thought to ask about it.

But Chella… Chella is a maybe. I know Smith thinks he’s got her pinned. He understands why she went along with Rochelle’s set-up. But I’m not convinced she’ll go that far. I need tonight to feel her out a little more. Give her my rule. And then the final rule.

Her reaction to that is what drives me. Drives all three of us.

Smith is right, I guess. Rochelle should’ve been let go a long time ago.

I miss what we never had with her.

Everyone in the Club has a monthly health screen—even though we do insist on condoms. Everyone has a biannual appointment with the Club psychiatrist—just to make sure we nip any crazy in the bud. And everyone follows the rules.