Chapter 9 Episode 9
1661 Words
I consider my options. I could refuse her offer and force her toaccept the deal without my pledge. It would be easy enough. Alittle pressure, a threat, and boom, she’d break.
“I won’t make love to any other woman,” I say.
She beams, oblivious to the distinction I’ve made. I have neverand will never make love to a woman.
But I’ll f**k whoever I damn well please.
Giorgos claps his hands and raises his glass again. “Then itlooks like we are in business together, Nikolai. And now, wehave a wedding to plan.”
Arslan doubles over laughing when I tell him about themeeting.
“She heard the words ‘make love’ come out of your mouth andthought you were being serious?” he cackles.
“I’m surprised I didn’t spontaneously combust.”
“I think that’s a myth, but it’s still more likely to happen thanyou ever falling in love.” He flops back in the chair in thecorner of my office and mimes an explosion, making rumblingnoises through his laughter. “I can’t believe I missed it.”
“You had more important things to worry about.”
He sits up a bit straighter, turning serious the way he alwaysdoes when we talk about work. Arslan may f**k aroundninety-nine percent of the time, but he’s my righthand man fora reason.
“You took care of everything?”
“Don’t I always?” I stare at him, waiting for an actualconfirmation. Eventually, he sighs. “Of course I did. Did youreally think I’d let you down?”
“You know how I like verbal confirmation.”
“I know how you like to micromanage every single thingdown to the smallest detail,” he counters. “Which is why I hadto come meet you at your office. You know, just once, wecould have a debrief at a bar over drinks. Or at your housewith the game on.”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. A game! Any game. You pick, I’llwatch. Anything to get you to relax.”
“My wife will probably want the same.”
Arslan shakes his head. “f**k… I can’t believe Xena Simatouis going to be your wife.”
“In name only,” I remind him. And myself.
“You say that like it makes a huge difference,” Arslan scoffs.“Either way, you’re married. She’s going to live with you.You’ll wake up to—”
“An empty bed,” I say quickly. “She’ll have her own room.Maybe her own penthouse, even. If I’m lucky, I won’t have tosee her much.”
“I wouldn’t count on that. You aren’t lucky.”
“Watch your mouth,” I snap.
“No, I’m serious,” he says. “Nothing you have came fromluck, Nik. You worked for it. I know because I was there everystep of the way.”
I wince. “You know what? You’re right. I’ve had to deal withyou since I was seven. That’s bad luck if I’ve ever heard it.”
“f**k you, sobrat.” He shoots me the double bird andchuckles. “But really, the two of us living next door to eachother in the same shithole neighborhood isn’t luck. We madethe best of a bad situation. We helped each other survive.”
“That’s what my marriage to Xena will be like. I’ll make thebest of a bad situation.”
“Or you could… I don’t know,” Arslan shrugs. “You couldcall this whole thing off and marry someone you actuallylike.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Is Jessica turning you into a romantic?”
“Her name is Jennica,” he corrects. “And that woman’s pussycould turn even you into a simp.”
I make a mockery of clapping my hands to my cheeks. “Is thatso? Call her up. Maybe I’ll give it a try.”
“Neither are you,” I say. “I don’t want to get married to Xenaor anyone else. So I might as well get married to Xena and dosomething useful for the Bratva. Giorgos Simatou is anannoying fucker, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t a usefulconnection to have.”
“So join a bowling league with him. Start a poker night. Don’tmarry his crazy sister.”
“Why do you care, anyway? This will make your life easier.No more bribing dockworkers to get our s**t onto the boats.You’re welcome.”
“I don’t mind doing that extra work if it means you’re free,brother.”
I jab a finger into my chest. “I am always free. Whether it’sXena Simatou or any other woman on the face of the planet…it doesn’t change shit.”
“I know, I know. Believe me, I’ve heard the speech plenty.”Arslan nods. “But you’ve spent your life overcoming yourfamily ties to become who you are. I hate to see you tieyourself to someone else who isn’t worthy.”
I reach out and clap a hand on Arslan’s shoulder. “You’re agood friend. But shut up and let me make my own decisions.”
He laughs. “Fine. I’ll just do your dirty work and keep mymouth closed.”
“Great. Finally we have an understanding. It only took thirty-one years.” I lean back, smirking. “Speaking of dirty work,you have eyes on The Lion still?”
Arslan nods. “Always. He’s getting harder to follow, but Ifound him over—”
I hold up a hand to stop him. “I don’t need to know specifics. Ijust need to know he’s under watch.”
“He is,” Arslan assures me. “And I’ll add Xena to thewatchlist if you want.”
“Why would I want that?”
“Because it’s a list of people who might f**k up your life. Ifigured you’d want to keep an eye on them.”
I roll my eyes. “Thanks for your concern, but I’m the onlyperson with the power to f**k up my life.”
Arslan sighs. “That is exactly what I’m worried about, friend.”
The trip back to the hotel is no better than my morningcommute. Mostly because I’m too trembly from actual rage toeven think about catching a cab or figuring out how thesubway system works.
Idle chit-chat with a driver would result in me spewing myguts about everything that has happened in the last twelvehours, which I’m not ready to process.
I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready.
I was stressed about handling the Zhukova audit alone, then Iunknowingly slept with the owner on a plane, and then thatsame owner tried to bribe me to commit fraud on his behalf.“Shitshow” doesn’t even begin to cover it.
Plus, if I go back to the hotel now, Elise will have questions.Questions I can’t answer.
I know I don’t need to baby her. God knows she reminds meoften enough that I’m not her mom. But damn it, the world canbe a clusterfuck. I don’t want to try and unpack the chaos withher. Not quite yet, anyway.
So I veer into a small coffee shop and wait in the too-long line.“A large coffee,” I tell the barista when I finally reach thecounter.
“What roast do you want?” she asks.
“Oh. Um.” I shrug. “Medium, I guess.”
She punches it into the register. “Milk?”
“I didn’t realize this was an interrogation.” I laugh. Oklahomadoesn’t usually require this much pre-caffeine decision-making.
The young barista looks annoyed with me. “Whole, two-percent, skim, oat, almond, cashew, soy, hemp…”
“Holy cow. That’s a lot of milk.” I sigh. “No pun intended.Jeez, that was awful. Sorry, I just wasn’t prepared. For this oranything else. It’s been a day.”
She looks past me to the line bobbing impatiently behind me.
“Right. I’m not your only customer,” I mumble. “Um… justmake it whole milk. And give me two.”
“Two coffees,” I clarify. “Both with whole milk.”
She punches it in and then I swipe my card. I give her agenerous tip. Maybe she’s having a day, too.
Standing at the end of the coffee line, looking at the customersstreaming in and out of the door, I realize how many peoplethere are in the world. How many people with different jobs.Jobs that don’t force them to work for a scumbag like Roger.Jobs where they don’t have to help someone embezzle andcover it up.
Maybe losing my job wouldn’t be such a bad thing, after all.
The barista slides two coffee cups across the counter to me.
“Is this a good gig?” I blurt suddenly. “Being a barista?”
“It’s the singular joy of my life,” she drawls with witheringsarcasm.
Okay. So that will be a “no” for being a barista. But why can’tI find another job? I used to have hopes and dreams. Used tothink anything was possible.
The image of a well-worn sketchbook appears in my mind,scribbles and scratchings between the pages…
“Elise,” I mutter to myself as I walk down the street, the hotcoffee burning my fingers through the thin paper cups. “Eliseis why you’re doing this. Be practical.”
The past and the future mingle in my mind, the good, the bad,and the mortifying, as I make my way back to the hotel. By thetime I climb the endless, dimly lit stairs to our floor, thecoffees are lukewarm.
I kick the door. “It’s me. My hands are full.”
I wait, but there’s no movement inside. I kick the door again.“Elise, it’s me. Open up!”
I give it another fifteen seconds, but still nothing.
Grumbling, I set down the coffee and dig the room key out ofmy purse. “She’s probably wearing headphones and destroyingher hearing. And if I say anything about it, I’m nagging. Ican’t win.”
- Writer
