Taking Turns (Turning #1)(9)

I redirect my gaze back to Smith. “And the dress I bought her for that Christmas party last year.” I’m pretty sure those shoes belong to Rochelle too. I’m pretty sure I bought them for her.

The girl—no, woman, I realize. Older than Rochelle by a few years, at least. Maybe thirty? Thirty-two? The woman is pretty. Maybe even more than pretty. Her long dark hair is draped over her shoulders. Her skin is fair—in fact, she looks quite pale. Her face is sweet. The face of someone who grew up beautiful.

Smith is still talking to her. She is nodding her head. Biting her lip.

“Don’t do that,” Smith says. “Don’t bite your lip. Don’t look at anyone. Ignore the people and the party. This will all be over in a few minutes.”

“Hey,” I call out. They are only about twenty feet away and the din of the party down below is enough to keep any guests from overhearing. “Do you want me to take it from here?”

Smith looks right at me, probably pissed off that Quin and I are sitting at his table without him. “No.”

I shrug. Sip my brandy. And scoot a little closer to the edge of the ledge so I can watch the show that’s about to happen.

A moment later, when the woman in the red dress is collected and steadied, they descend the stairs slowly and deliberately. The way Smith does everything.

“What the f*ck is he doing?” Quin asks. “Why the hell is she dressed up like that?”

“I can only assume her clothes weren’t dress code-appropriate and he improvised.”

“I don’t like it,” Quin says.

“He doesn’t care,” I reply, absently. The party almost goes silent when people notice Smith and the woman. Not quite. There’s music and people in the Black Room can’t see him yet, so it’s only the grand lobby that shuts up. But it’s enough to be noticeable.

Lucinda is first to approach. “Smith.” I can’t really hear her soft greeting, but I can read her lips. “I didn’t think you were here.” He kisses her on both cheeks, leaning in the way he does. Probably to say happy birthday. And Lucinda smiles, pulls back, and studies the woman on Smith’s arm. “Who’s this? Is she your date? I was hoping…” She trails off.

We all know what she was hoping.

“I’ve got to take my date home, Lucinda. I’m sorry, I’ll probably miss the opening scene. But I’ll be back later.” Smith’s voice is easily heard. The entire club is watching now.

“Do you promise?” she asks, hurt and disappointed.

“Promise,” Smith says, using that charming smile he’s mastered over the years. “Don’t wait for me though. I’ll find you later.”

“Jesus Christ,” Quin says, grabbing his snifter of brandy and downing the rest of it. “What kind of drugs is Lucinda on? He’s not coming back for her.”

“He’ll be back,” I say, watching Smith work the crowd as he makes his way to the front of the lobby. The staff at the door are busy, trying to get the car up to the curb before he reaches them. He hates to wait. They know that much. “If he wasn’t interested in the afterparty he’d have never showed up at all.”

By the time Smith and the woman make their way to the front podium where the White Room maitre d' stands, quietly barking orders at the valet men, a coat-check girl is helping Smith with his coat.

A few seconds later they disappear into the snow.

Quin sighs.

“She was pretty,” I say. “Don’t you think?”

“She certainly looked good in Rochelle’s clothes. Does that mean… Do you think Rochelle left everything behind?”

“I don’t know,” I say. But it’s a lie. We both know she did.

“Do you think it means she’s coming back?”

“If she does,” I say, “we won’t be keeping her.”

“Fuck,” Quin says, standing up. “I’m going upstairs.”

I grab him by the sleeve of his jacket and stand as well. “You’re going home,” I say. “She left, Quin. It’s over. You’re not staying up there.”

“She could come back,” Quin says, shrugging off my grip. “Maybe this woman was some kind of kink? You know? Maybe Rochelle stepped out to get something?”

“What?” I laugh. “You actually think Rochelle brought that woman upstairs to f*ck? With you? And then she forgot she needed condoms? Went to the drug store to pick some up? Is this something the two of you do?”

“No,” Quin admits.

“She left, Quin. I’m sorry. I liked her too. It was fun for a while. The fact that it lasted as long as it did is a small miracle. But it’s over now. You’re going home, we’re gonna clear that apartment out, and we’ll decide what to do next together. Do you understand?”

Quin doesn’t answer me. Just walks out. I watch him as he descends the stairs. He stops to talk to Lucinda, who has her hands all over his body, something she wouldn’t dare do to Smith. But Quin is easy-going. Doesn’t mind being touched. Enjoys it, actually. His smile is forced as he makes his polite, parting conversation. And by the time he’s finished, the coat-check girl is ready for him.

He steps out into the snow as well.

I wait a few minutes. Sip my drink. Watch Lucinda choose Jordan as her guest of honor downstairs. Probably because of the fact that he’s new. I stand up as they make their way towards the back of the lobby where the sentries stand guard in front of the other elevator. The one that goes down instead of up.