Taking Turns (Turning #1)(85)

“Where did you go, Chella?” he finally asks when I’m pulling back the covers of my bed, ready for sleep. “Just tell me that. Where did you go when they made you disappear?”

I turn the lights out and climb in bed. Smith is backlit from the light filtering in from downstairs. Just a black shadow surrounded by white.

“I was with my mother,” I say. “She was crazy. Mentally ill in a way I still don’t understand. She was consumed by religion. We lived in… church places. Where the faithful meet for spiritual retreats.”

“Like a cult?” Smith asks, confused.

And yeah, I guess if I had to put a word on it, I’d call it that. But I say, “No, not really. It was all legitimate. They were all affiliated with real organizations.”

“Hmmm,” is all he has to say about that. “Where was your father for all this?”

“DC,” I say. “He let her do whatever she wanted. He doesn’t believe in divorce. And he wasn’t willing to risk his career to make things right. He felt it was… a good compromise. For me.”

“What’s that mean? I don’t understand that last part,” Smith says.

“No,” I say. “Me either.” I turn over in bed, my back to him now. “Goodnight, Smith. Thanks for playing along tonight. I appreciate it.”

“Goodnight, Chella,” he says, after about a minute of silence. And then he pulls my door closed, blocking out the light. Leaving me alone with the dark with my shame.

That’s all I have left now, right?

It’s just me and my shame.





Chapter Twenty-Nine - Smith




Chella leaves early for work the next morning. She’s cheerful and upbeat, like last night never happened.

I don’t know if that’s good or bad. Maybe both.

I spend the day putting together the last batch of charitable donations for the year and then have the Club car take me over to my foundation headquarters to drop everything off.

When I’m done, it’s barely noon. So I go where I always go. The Club.

It’s very busy today, even though the White Room isn’t open to the public. Members are here for lunch and drinks, since Christmas is on Sunday and just about everyone is off work already.

I head upstairs where Quin is sitting in my bar sipping a beer.

“Hey,” he says, when I sit down. “Bric said there was drama last night?”

“Shit,” I say, shaking my head and motioning for the bartender to bring me a Scotch. “Her f*cking father is an *.”

Quin nods his head. “I can only imagine.”

“Why?” I ask. “Did she tell you about him?” I’m instantly jealous picturing all the intimate conversations Chella might be having with Quin.

He shrugs me off though. “He’s on the news all the time. I can’t stand that *. So smug and full of himself.”

“Hmm. Did Chella ever mention her childhood to you?”

Quin shoots me a look I can only assume is suspicious. “If she did, I wouldn’t tell you what she said. It’s one thing for Bric to tell me you called her in the middle of their date, it’s another to ask me to spill about our time together.”

He’s right. I know he’s right. We don’t talk about it for a reason. We keep the jealousy at bay by living three completely separate lives with the woman we choose to share.

“Sorry,” I say, backing down. “I’m just trying to understand her better. And she’s going to be alone on Christmas. Did you get her a gift?”

“Of course.” Quin laughs. “You didn’t?”

The bartender comes with my drink so I use that time to think. “I’m trying to think of something she’d like.”

“She’s a woman, Smith. She likes attention. Real attention. So give her that and you’ll make her happy.”

“Is that what you got her?” I ask.

“We’re on a different level these days. You don’t need to worry about what I got her.”

“I wonder if she’s getting us something?”

“Why do you think she went shopping alone the other day, dumbass?”

“Where’s Bric?” I ask, changing the subject. “What’s going on with the Club this weekend?”

“Parties, brother. All weekend long. You gonna attend any?”

I almost snort my drink. “No. I’m with Chella until Saturday night. Why would I?”

Quin shrugs. “I’m going.”

He always does. That’s not news.

“So next week?” Quin asks. “You think she’s ready?”

“I’m ready,” I say, then regret it. “But yeah, I think she is. I’ll know more tonight.”

“You don’t sound very excited,” Quin says, eyeing me. More suspicion. “You have something to say about it?”

“No.” I don’t. “And I am excited. It’s been a long f*cking time since we had someone together like that.”

“I’m really looking forward to it,” Quin says. “I can’t f*cking wait. What night should we aim for?”

“Monday?” I say. “Why not start the week out right?”