by JA Huss
He walks over to the studio door, looks out in the hallway to see if anyone is eavesdropping, then closes it to give us privacy. “I heard about Bric’s brother.”
“Good for you. But I’m not sure what that has to do with me.”
“He took you… home with him?” Jordan asks. “For a fucking funeral?”
“Yes,” I shrug.
“Why? How did that happen, Nadia?”
“What do you mean? He got the call, I wanted to be supportive—”
“Wait,” Jordan says, putting up a hand. “Supportive, Nadia. You don’t even know the guy. It’s a personal family moment. Why the fuck did he take you home with him?”
“Is this my fault?” I ask, thoroughly pissed off at this point. “Is that what you’re insinuating?”
“If the game is over, it’s over,” Jordan replies. “It’s no one’s fault. But I need to understand just how the fuck you got Bric to take you up to Montana.”
“Why?” I ask. “What difference does it make?”
“Because, Nadia, no one goes up to Montana to see Bric’s family. Chella has never met Bric’s family. Rochelle has never met Bric’s family. Shit, not even Smith or Quin have met Bric’s family.”
“Well”—I laugh—“I know why. Would you like to know why no one has ever met Bric’s family, Jordan?”
“No,” he says. And this time his voice isn’t sympathetic or low. It’s harsh, and mean, and loud. “I don’t. Because I know Bric well enough to understand whatever’s going on up there is private. And you shouldn’t have gone. He shouldn’t have taken you. So I want to know”—he’s crossed the room and is standing right in front of me now, his hands on my shoulders like he’s about to give me a good shake—“how the fuck you got him to take you up there.”
“First of all,” I say, backing off his grip on my shoulders and slapping at his arms, “no one makes Elias Bricman do anything. Let’s just get that out of the way right now. Second, I told you. I was only trying to be supportive. The call came in. You had already disappeared—no surprise there—and he was upset when he told me his brother had died and he needed to go to the funeral.”
“That’s not what happened,” Jordan growls. “And you know it. So either you tell me the truth or—”
“Or you’ll what?” I snap. “I quit, Jordan. Do you understand? I’m done with both you freaks.” He laughs at that. But I don’t care. “I don’t want to see you anymore. Do not call me here or at home. Do not come by. Let’s just forget we ever met. Now if you’ll excuse me—” I push past him and I’m reaching for the play button on the stereo when he grabs my wrist. “Let go,” I say. My teeth are clenched and my tone is serious.
“Just—” He lets go. Sighs with frustration. “Just listen to me for a moment, OK? Just stop being such a bitch and listen to me.”
“I’m the bitch?” I laugh, that’s how funny that is.
“You are,” he says. “You’re so fucking self-absorbed. You’re so fucking sure you’re winning—”
“I did win. This is a fact. Bric told me himself. Paid me fifty thousand dollars, in fact. Even congratulated me.”
“You lost, sweetie.”
“Don’t patronize me, Jordan. You’re the one who fucked up the game. You’re the one who bowed out early. It was you who threw everything off balance.”
“Fine,” he says, spreading his arms wide. “Fine, I fucked up your game. But did it ever occur to you, Nadia, that I was playing another game? Hmm?”
I squint my eyes at him.
“That’s right,” he says. “I had another reason for what I was doing. I have a big case, sure. And that guy needs my help. But do you really think I’d let a client come between me and my personal life, Nadia? Do you not know me at all?”
“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No,” he says, dropping the anger from his voice. “You don’t. Because I never told you. Or Bric,” he quickly adds. “He didn’t know either.”
“What the hell?” I say. “You’re using us? Why? For what end?”
“If you stop being so self-righteous for a second, I’ll tell you. Are you gonna be calm and listen? Because if you’re just hell-bent on walking out, then forget it. The game really is over and you don’t need to know.”
This is when I realize… he needs me. He needs my help in something. And that something has nothing to do with me and everything to do with Elias Bricman. “OK,” I say, letting out a long sigh. “Fine.”
“Fine as in you’re gonna listen?” he asks. “Or fine as in you’re gonna help me?”
“Help you,” I say. “If I can.”
“You can, Nadia.” And now he unleashes that grin on me. The same grin that got me all hot and bothered the very first time I met him. “You’re perfect. You’re exactly what I need. It’s the whole reason I brought you here.”
“Brought me here?” I’m confused.
“Of course,” he says, placing a hand on my cheek. “You’re a good dancer, Nadia. Great, actually. You were gonna go far no matter what. But yes, I got you this job. I got you that apartment. I got you involved in my game. And then I got you involved in Bric’s game.”
“Why?” I ask. “Just what the—”
“Shhh,” he says, placing two fingertips over my lips. “You said you were gonna listen, remember?”
I blink at him, my mind a whirlwind of what-the-fucks. “I’m listening.”
So he tells me. He tells me everything. He gathers up my things, walks me out of the studio, still talking, takes me to dinner at a little Chinese place down the street, and explains.
And when he gets to the end of his story, he says, “Now tell me how the fuck you got Bric to take you home with him.”
So I do. And it’s his turn to listen and put everything in place.
Finally, after what seems like hours of talking, he says, “OK, this is what we need to do.” And he explains his new plan for Bric. “Are you still out? Or can I count on you to help me?”
It’s… clever. I have to give him that. Slightly diabolical. Definitely on the edge of evil. But it’s also brilliant all the way around.
So I say, “I’m in. You can count on me.”
Because Elias Bricman deserves this. He really does.
It’s his turn to understand that the game he’s been playing all these years reaps nothing but destruction.
Chapter Twenty-Seven - Bric
“Abrem,” I say into the phone. “Call me back, asshole. I’m trying to apologize, OK? I’m sorry. I fucked up. Just…”
Fuck it. I end the call and slide my phone across my desk. I’ve been trying to call him all week. He won’t pick up. I even tried blocking my number before I call, but I guess he’s not as stupid as I make him out to be. He never picks those up either.
I’ve also tried calling Benjamin, Jason, Candace, and Gaius. None of them picked up. I know Hannah won’t take my call. I vaguely remember her spitting insults at me after the funeral. And I’m not that close with Felix, Delilah, and Keren so I don’t even bother with them… yet. I might have to resort to Delilah if Abrem or Benjamin don’t call me back soon.
I feel like shit. And not because I’ve been drinking since I got home from Montana. I feel like shit for taking Nadia up there. Bringing my problems up there. Using her, and them, and Luc’s death.
Especially Luc’s death. I’m such an asshole. They are never going to forgive me. Ever. I can still see the hurt look on Sylvia’s face. Charity’s disapproving frown. Either of them could be my real mother, which is why it bothers me. I know neither Megan nor Donna is my mother. They came after I was born.
It was a rule all growing up that we had to call them all Mother. We were David Bricman’s children, they were all David Bricman’s wives—though not legally, of course. But in that house, they were equals. And they were all Mother.
I am, and have always been, their biggest disappointment. Not even Gaius or Felix can come close to the disappointment I’ve cau
sed. When I told Chella they didn’t know what I do, I probably lied. Or… pretended, maybe. Either way, they have to know what I do. What I am.
“Knock, knock.”
I look up at the open door of my office and, speak of the devil, find Chella leaning against the wall.
“Can I come in?” she asks.
“Of course,” I say, waving a hand at one of the two chairs in front of my desk. “What’s on your mind?”
Chella takes a seat, crosses those long legs of hers, and smiles at me. “I’d like to invite you to dinner.”
“Yeah?” I say, smiling for the first time today. “When?”
Chella holds up a hand. “But there’s conditions.”
I scowl at her. “What kind of conditions?”
“You have to bring a date.”
“What?”
“Specifically, Nadia Wolfe. She’s the new player, right?”
“How the fuck do you know about Nadia?”
“I met her, remember? At the Club last weekend? And she came into the Tea Room this afternoon.”
“What?” Jesus Christ, this is all I need.
“Looking for me and Rochelle.”
“What the fuck?” I say, more to myself than Chella.
“I guess you guys had a fight?” Chella says. “And she came looking for insight. You know, to try to patch things up between the two of you.”
“No,” I say, standing up. I’m ready to go over to Nadia’s work and tear her up for this. “I’m sorry about that, Chella. I really am. Our game is over and I’m done. She should know better than to come back after the game ends. I guess I just need to make things crystal clear.”
“Bric,” Chella says, still calm in her chair. “Sit back down. I’m not finished yet.”
I sit. Because it’s Chella. I miss her. And Rochelle. And Smith and Quin, of course. But especially Adley. God, I miss that little pumpkin. I’m trying not to think about it too much. And this fight with Nadia and Luc’s death have pretty much taken over my world right now, so it’s been easier to put it behind me.
But holy fuck, I miss that little pumpkin. I don’t want to think about those little chubby cheeks and those fat little hands. I can’t even picture her gummy smile without that empty hole in my chest aching. I wonder if she got a tooth yet?
Please, no. I will die if I miss the sprouting of her first tooth.
“It’s next weekend. Rochelle and Quin are having a little get-together at their house and we want you to come. It will be fun, Bric. I promise. We miss you. You need to come.”
“But Nadia, Chella. I don’t want to bring her. I really don’t. I’m done with it. I just want to put everything about her behind me.”
“I like her,” Chella says. “She’s interesting. A ballerina, right? Remember when you gave me that sculpture after we first met? I took her to see it at my house. Told her that you paid for the whole installation outside the Mountain Ballet Theatre. She was impressed. And she wants a chance to make it up to you.”
“She said that?” I ask, picturing her and Chella talking about me on Chella’s patio as they look at that sculpture. It pisses me off. I told her not to fucking talk about me.
But then I soften, thinking about Chella. Things were good back then. Even though Rochelle hadn’t come home yet and I didn’t even know about Adley. Things were good. I still had Smith and Quin was still talking to me. Chella and I were just beginning to think about the Tea Room last winter. It was good back then and it can be good again.
Chella nods. “She did. She said that. She said she did something hurtful to you and she needs a second chance to set things right. Even if you don’t end up together, she said she needs an opportunity to make it right.”
“Those were her words?” I ask, an evil idea springing to mind.
“Her exact words,” Chella confirms.
“Let me think about it,” I say, because I need a little time to get this plan with Nadia in place. One more mind fuck to set things right. With any luck, Nadia will be a bad mistake in the past by the time next weekend rolls around.
“OK,” Chella says, standing up. “But I’m going to tell Rochelle that you’re coming. Adley is about to get a tooth. You don’t want to miss seeing that, right?”
I frown. “No,” I say. “I don’t.”
“Then it’s settled. You’re coming.” Chella is happy when I meet her at the door. She places both her hands on my cheeks and says, “I miss you, ya know. We all miss you. And I know it’s been rough for you, Bric. But we love you. You need to come back to us.”
She kisses me on the cheek and turns away before I can say anything to ruin her proclamation.
Chapter Twenty-Eight - Nadia
I just stare at my phone for a few seconds, barely able to breathe. But then I snap out of it and tab accept. “Hello?”
“Stay out of my life, Nadia.”
Not really what I was expecting from him. But it’s a call, so there’s that. “I’m sorry,” I say. Short and sweet. Just like Jordan coached me the other day. He knows Bric far better than I do, so I took notes and I’m sticking to them.
“Accepted. Now, can I count on you to leave me alone? No more showing up at the Tea Room asking about my friends. No more—”
“Bric,” I say, cutting him off. “Please. Can I meet you for dinner or something? I just want to talk to you. That’s all. I need a few moments of your time and then I promise, I’ll go away.”
“Dinner and a short talk are two completely different things.”
“A snack?” I say, trying to laugh. I don’t feel like laughing, but this whole thing is nerve-racking. Jordan’s plan is so… out there. “I’m in the studio right now. There are three dozen other dancers in here with me. Not my first choice of place to have a conversation. I’ll be happy with coffee. Or a burrito from the food truck outside the ballet. Something. Anything.”
He sighs. “When?”
“Tonight?” I ask. “After I get off work? I have to stay late tonight for an extra rehearsal. So I don’t get off until six. The dinner truck is fine, OK? Just… I need a few minutes of face-to-face with you. I’m sorry, I really am. I want you to know that.”
“If that’s all you have to say then—”
“It’s not,” I say, before he can finish. “I have more than just that. But it’s the kind of thing…” I turn away from the other dancers in the studio so they can’t hear me. “It’s got to do with the game.”
“The game is over, Nadia. I made that pretty clear last weekend.”
“I know,” I say. “It’s over. But I need to talk to you about something. It’s important.”
“Five minutes,” he says. “Outside the ballet at six.”
“Good—” But I get hang-up beeps because he just ended the call.
Dick.
“Everything OK?” Michael asks. Like me, he’s just here to watch the principals dance their parts so we know what’s going on.
“Fine,” I say, plastering on my forced smile and then turning away to watch the stars of the show. “It will be, anyway.”
“Go get ’em, girl,” Michael says, pushing me on the shoulder. “Those two men you have are hot as fuck.”
Yes, I think in my head. They are definitely good-looking men. But their minds… ugly, ugly places, those minds.
I get out late. Which figures. This is the ballet, after all. You’re not supposed to have a life outside dance. I sit all day watching everyone else go through their parts and then finally, at quarter after five, they want me to go through my steps with Romeo.
When we’re dismissed, I take off my shoes, stuff my feet into some flats, and grab my pack and coat. It’s dark outside and I’m sure that Bric has gotten impatient and left.
But then I see him standing over by the dinner truck, watching me as I hurry across the street in a rush.
“Sorry,” I say. “I got—”
“Save the excuses, Nadia,” he says, his tone sharp and dismissive. “Just get to the point
.”
There’s other dancers hanging around, so I give them a nervous look, indicating that we need privacy. “My car is over there,” he sighs. “If you’d prefer to talk there.”
“Perfect,” I say. And it is. For my plan to work I need to be in that car, right? With him, alone, on my way to… wherever he chooses.
We walk over and I let him open the passenger door for me. At least he hasn’t forgotten his manners. When he dropped me off last weekend he didn’t bother with manners. So progress? Maybe?
When we’re settled inside he says, “Should I take you home? Or do you have plans tonight?”
I laugh as I pan my hand down at my sweaty dance clothes. I’m wearing sweats, sneakers, and a too-large hoodie over my tank top. “Home,” I say. “I’m obviously not going out anywhere looking like this.”
He starts the car, but says nothing. Just eases his way out onto the street. I only live a few blocks away, so I get right to the point. “I know I already said I was sorry, Elias.”
“Shit,” he says, turning the corner onto my street. “Let’s just stick with Bric.”
I let out a sigh. “Fine. Bric. It was unfair for me to play games with you that day. OK? I need you to understand that I’m sorry for that. It was the Master, right? When I said that?” Such a huge mistake. Because that really was what set him off, I know it. I went over the entire weekend with Jordan and he figured it out immediately.
“My brother was dead, Nadia. You fucked up.”
“I know,” I say, desperate to get more words in before he pulls up to my building. “I’m sorry. It was unfair and I didn’t mean it.”
“Then why did you say it?” Bric asks. “We had a great night—”
“I know,” I interject. “We did. I was… you didn’t deserve that, OK? That’s what I’m trying to say.” And there’s my building. One block away. But thankfully, we’re stuck at a red light.
“I thought we had turned a corner,” he says. “I thought you were settling in. But obviously I was wrong. You’re not submissive. You’re never going to be submissive. And that’s why I decided the game needed to end. We’re wasting each other’s time, Nadia. It’s stupid. And counterproductive. I thought you were interested in me but—”
