Chapter Twenty-Two - Rochelle
“You’re sure you’re OK?” I ask Quin.
“Hey,” he says. “We’re fine. I got this.” He’s holding Adley in his arms and she’s smacking his face with both hands. Each time she does it, he blinks and laughs. She squeals and wiggles.
They are adorable together. Does she look like him? I can’t tell. How do people tell? How do people say, Oh, she has your chin, or, Yes, those are your ears? I don’t get it. When I look at her and me in the same photo, I do see it. She does look like me. But Quin and Bric… I just don’t know. I can’t tell. It makes me sad.
“I have two bottles of milk in the fridge—”
“I know,” Quin says. “I heard all the last-minute directions the other night when we left her with Bric. Baby food on the counter if I’m up to it. Bath time, story time, bed time.”
“Plus, you’ve got my video if you need a cheat sheet.” Bric comes out of the bedroom adjusting his cufflinks. He’s in a tux. This is a formal event at a local historical mansion over on Pennsylvania Street for one of the charity things they do. It’s only like three miles away. Bric bought me a long black dress with a white fur cape. I have my hair in a loose updo, and the diamonds around my neck and wrists are heavy.
I have missed going out to fancy places. And the diamonds. Maybe more than I’d like to admit.
“Ready?” Bric asks, holding out my cape so he can drape it around my shoulders. I turn and the soft satin lining settles on my bare skin. It’s heavy and I’m glad. Because the dress is strapless and even though it’s not snowing tonight, it’s cold.
“I’m ready,” I say, smiling at him. “You look handsome.”
“You look stunning,” he replies, leaning into the back of my neck to give me a kiss.
“Go,” Quin says. “Have a good time. We’ll be here when you get home.”
Bric offers me his arm and we walk into the waiting elevator together. Quin is holding up Adley’s hand to wave at us, both of them smiling.
He deserves this time alone with her. Bric has had a lot more time with her than Quin. So it’s good for them both. But a part of me wants to stay behind. Share this night with Quin and Adley as they get to know each other, and not leave them behind.
Bric gives me the rundown on the party as we drive over to the mansion. I’ve been here before. Several times. All of them with Bric. In fact, I’m pretty sure I was at this same party the first two years we were together. That was something we did a lot. Go out. Quin and I never went out like this before. We stayed home or went fun places together, just the two of us. Bric was always the party guy.
The party is at a neoclassical mansion built in 1902. I remember this from the first time I was here. The third governor of Colorado built this house after he left office. Tonight, it’s lit up and festive when we arrive. More than a hundred people are dressed up in black and white. There is a dinner later, but for now we mingle. I see dozens of people I know. They all come up to me, elated that Bric and I are back together.
I wonder how many of them are Club members? I wonder how many of them know what we do in private?
All the women stare, but I can’t tell if they are staring at me or just appreciating the fact that Elias Bricman is hot. One woman in our small-talk party is scowling just a few feet away, so she is obviously looking at me. It doesn’t bother me. I’m not embarrassed by our relationship. So we’re a thriple. Who cares? I privately think they are all jealous. That woman, for sure. I would be, if I were her. Her husband is handsome, but not attentive. He’s busy chatting with the other men about golf as she stands there demurely. He’s ignoring her.
Bric is holding my hand, talking to me, even though I’m not even participating in the conversation. He brings me in. Includes me on purpose. Looks at me, not them.
Yes, she’s definitely jealous. I lean into Bric and he looks down at me, then brings my hand to his lips and kisses it.
I wonder what these people would think if three of us showed up, instead of two?
I smile, but don’t laugh, even though I want to.
Quin would not ignore me either. Both of my hands would be held at the same time. Both mouths would be kissing my knuckles. We’d take turns dancing. I’d sit between them as we ate dinner. They’d bring me festive, bubbly drinks. And delicious canapés. I’d never have a moment to myself.
It would be wonderful, I decide.
“How have you been, Rochelle?” the scowling woman asks. She leaves her husband’s side and comes over to stand next to me. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“I know. I’ve been gone,” I say. “I spent the last year at a resort, just being lazy and, you know… having a baby.”
“You have a baby?” she asks, surprised and smiling. “Well, that’s interesting. The last time I talked to your father, he didn’t mention it.”
My world stops. Simply ceases. Jesus Christ. I don’t show it, but holy fuck, I need to take a sip of my champagne to gather myself. Who is this woman?
“No,” I say. Once I swallow the warm fizzing liquid I’m collected again. “I don’t speak to him.”
“I did know that, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. Do you have pictures?” she asks. “Of the baby? I bet Elias is so proud.”
“Have we met?” I ask. “I’ve been introduced to so many of Elias’ friends over the years, but I don’t recognize you.”
She cocks her head at me, like she’s wondering if I’m serious. “We have met before. But it wasn’t here in Denver. Justin and I just relocated. I was so happy to see you here at the party. Friendly face and all.”
Are we friendly? I find that very unlikely.
“You really don’t remember me,” she says. Not as a question, just a statement of fact.
“No,” I say. “I’m sorry. You do look familiar, but I can’t place you. Can you refresh my memory?”
“Well, I was…” she looks around, then at her husband. She leans in to me, like she’s sharing a secret. “Your father’s mistress,” she whispers. “I’m almost relieved you don’t recognize me, to be honest. It’s good to know that one’s reputation does not precede her.”
“Ohhhhh,” I say, nodding my head. Snap. Out of the fantasy life I’ve been living for the past four years and right back to the real world.
“I’m Justin’s mistress now. And you’re with Elias?”
“And Quin Foster,” I say. I can’t let that opportunity pass.
“Mmm-hmmm. I did hear that as well. It doesn’t surprise me.”
“What doesn’t surprise you?” I ask.
“That you enjoy two men at the same time.” She laughs. Heartily. “You’re a lot like your father.”
Uh. I feel sick.
“But you have your mother in you too. I can see that as well.”
Does she think this makes it any better? Or did she say that on purpose? You’re just like your parents, Rochelle. I want to slap her. I want to scream at her. I want to ask her, right here in front of Denver’s most powerful people, if she ever thought about me when she was fucking my father. “Do you?” I say, instead. I hate the fact that this woman knows me. Both the old me, and the new me.
“Justin was just invited into the Club,” she says, changing the subject. “I’m really looking forward to spending time there. Maybe we’ll see each other?” She smiles. A kind of… sick smile.
Yuk. That is disgusting. I cannot imagine any scenario where I would end up in that basement with this woman. Gross.
“I doubt that,” I say, still using my fake high-society manners. “I don’t belong in the Club. Elias and Quin keep me far away from that life. But I’m sure you’ll have fun with all the other…” I want to say tramps, but it’s not fair, because they’re not tramps. They’re just people. People like me and Chella. So I don’t. I say, “Partners,” instead.
“Why, thank you,” she says. But I’ve offended her because she presses her lips together. “Do you still play music? I know you had that guitar hobby back when you were a child. In fact, I’m the one who talked your father into giving you your first guitar back when you were eleven. I can still picture you that one night he brought me home to your house for a party. You were—”
“Excuse me,” Bric says, pressing into me. “Helen, is it? I’m going to steal Rochelle from you. I’m dying to dance with my lover.”
I almost laugh. Almost. But the sting of that last statement is enough to quell it.
“Would you like to dance, Rochelle?” he asks politely. As if I would say no.
“Love to,” I say. “Can you hold my drink?” I ask the woman. She takes it out of habit, mumbling something about it being her pleasure, but I don’t wait and thank her—can’t wait and thank her, because Bric is pulling me away.
“What the fuck was that?” he asks.
“Apparently,” I say, as Bric puts his hand on my waist and we begin to dance, “that was my father’s old mistress. How wonderful it was to see her again.”
“I bet,” Bric says, smiling down at me.
“What a cunt. God.”
“You’ve never mentioned your father before.”
“No,” I say. “For good reason. He’s an asshole.”
“And your mother?”
“Stepmother, you mean. Another cunty bitch. My father loves the cunty ones.”
“Got it.” Bric laughs. “So where’s all this animosity come from?”
Really? Tonight, of all nights, in public, he wants to ask me about my old life?
“You don’t want to talk about it,” he says.
“Got it in one,” I say, trying to keep the mood light. But he’s serious now, so I try again. “No. Not here, anyway.”
“Do you think we’ll ever meet them?” he asks.
“Will I ever meet your families?” I counter.
He shrugs. “Not mine. They live far away. But Quin’s family is in town.”
I picture this meeting in my head. I know his father passed away a few years back. So no worries there. But his mother is still alive.
“Would you like to meet his mother?”
“Have you met her?”
“Of course.” Bric laughs. “Kitty and I are old friends.”
“Kitty,” I say, trying out her name. I wonder what Kitty Foster would think of me? Probably exactly what I thought of that woman back there. Gold. Digging. Slut.
“I haven’t seen her much lately, but we bump into each other every once in a while.”
“Well.” I sigh. “I’m going to pass on that. I can imagine that if I meet Kitty, the two of you would demand to know someone from my family. And I can’t think of a single person I’d be happy to introduce you to.”
“Not one?” he asks.
“Not even one,” I say. I wonder if he’s talked to Smith lately. I wonder how much Smith really knows about me? “I don’t want to think about my past, Bric. And I certainly don’t want to associate with my father’s ex-mistresses. I left my life behind for a reason. I don’t want her reminding me of that.”
Bric leans down to kiss me. “Hey,” he whispers into my mouth. “Don’t worry about that woman.”
“She says that Justin guy is a member of the Club. Just got an invitation.”
“I can uninvite him. And I’m going to make that very clear to Justin tomorrow. She’ll never talk to you again.”
“You’d do that?” I ask. “Give up a member just because I’m uncomfortable?”
“Why not?” he asks. “Do you really think I need another member? The only thing I care about these days is you, and Quin, and Adley. I will do anything to keep us happy. Kicking out a new member doesn’t even require a moment of consideration. It’s done.”
I sigh. Then smile. “Thanks,” I say. “But it’s really not necessary. I’m fine. I’ll probably never see her again. It’s not like the Club is my life anymore.”
“It’s not. You’ll never have to go there again. Not even for breakfast. We’ll find another place to call our own. Hell, maybe I’ll just buy another restaurant down in LoDo. Make it easy for everyone to stay away. The past is the past, right? No need to go backwards.”
“I could kiss you right now.” I laugh. “Somehow, you always know the right thing to say.”
He frowns.
“What?” I ask.
“Except when you came to me last year. To tell me about your pregnancy. I wasn’t thinking, Rochelle. I’d like you to know I’d never ask you to have an abortion. I would’ve stuck by you. Maybe I didn’t know it at that moment, but I would’ve figured it out.”
“I know,” I say. “It really wasn’t you. It was… Quin.”
“Have you talked about it yet?”
“A little. But I don’t want to bring it up again. He was mad at me. He had a right to be mad at me. And now he’s forgiven me, so let’s just leave it there.”
“Done,” he says. “And hey, if you wanna leave the party, I’m all for it.”
“No,” I say. “Don’t be silly. You’re here for business. I’m fine.”
“Well, shit. I was hoping you’d say yes and then we could fuck in the car before we got home.”
I laugh. “Yes, Mr. Bricman. You really do say all the right things.” And then I lean up on my tiptoes, until my mouth is right next to his ear, and I whisper, “I promise. After dinner, we can take a quick trip to the car for dessert.”