by Sarah Thorn
“You made a great choice,” I replied. “Sorry I fell asleep in the heat of the moment, it’s been a long day.”
He laughed it off.
“Not to worry, your resilience astounds me.”
I sighed and leaned on the railing, my mind beginning to wander to other things.
“Tell me,” I said, “what do you think of becoming a father?”
He leaned over the railing next to me and smiled.
“I would like to be a father,” he said. “I could tell you stories about my own father, but none of them would be good.”
“Were you and your father close?”
“He was a busy man,” Viktor replied. “I barely knew him until I turned 14 years of age. Then he took a greater interest in my political career.”
“Political career?”
“Yes, he wanted someone he could exploit for favors. I’m willing to help people that are good to me, but I won’t simply turn myself into a puppet to be controlled.”
“I thought you were in the secret service,” I asked solemnly.
“I was. If you wish to move up, in this country, you serve your country as a protector. I lost interest in politics after I saw my fair share of shady deals.”
I walked back inside, stepping lightly on the cold floor. “I wouldn’t mind hearing some stories about these medals, if you would like to tell some.”
He joined me indoors and plucked a medal from the dresser.
“This medal instills the title ‘Hero of Russia.’ It might be simple, but it’s one of the grandest honors you can receive.”
I took the simple painted gold star and examined it closely. “How did you get this one?”
“I doubt you’d believe me, even if I told you.”
“Try me,” I said with a grin.
“I stopped a terrorist threat against the state and had to disarm a bomb beneath the Kremlin while being shot at by radicals. They say I saved around 5,000 lives that day. Anton received one as well. He held the enemy at bay, which gave me enough time to disarm the bomb. I will give it to our child someday.”
Then I heard something I didn’t think I would hear ever again.
“Viktor, are a congratulations in order?”
I turned, only to see Anton sitting in a chair in the corner of the bedroom, gun in hand. He clicked the light on, illuminating several cuts and bandages covering most of the exposed skin.
“The bandages are new. I’d thank the men who gave them to me, but they won’t be hearing much ever again.”
“You killed them,” I uttered.
“How else do you escape that many armed guards?”
“Anton, I should have just had them kill you.”
I leaned over the dresser as they talked, covering it slightly with my blanket, and edged the gun out from under the medals, staying as silently as I could.
Viktor’s fists were clenched so tight that they were beginning to turn white.
“So, what’s this I hear about a child?” Anton stood from the corner and began to move closer. I stepped back, hoping to avoid having him touch me again.
“It was nothing, just a bit of speculative talk,” Viktor said, his voice cracking a bit as he spoke.
“Viktor, we worked together long enough, I always know when you’re lying.”
Viktor lost his temper and attempted a charge at Anton, but Anton was too quick. He pointed his raised gun at Viktor and pulled the trigger, piercing his shoulder.
“Tsk, tsk, Viktor. Unless you want to lose your progeny,” Anton said, pointing his gun at me, and it wasn’t just me; it was pointed at my unborn child.
“Anton, don’t. Whatever anger you have, take it out on me. Don’t touch her.”
Anton let out another chortle.
“Viktor, you always did know how to make me laugh. Considering the position you’re in, you shouldn’t be demanding anything.”
Anton reached out a hand toward me.
“Hand me the medal. I would like to see Viktor’s reward.”
I dropped the brass star into his waiting palm and took another step back. I felt the gun in my hand getting heavier as I was becoming increasingly nervous and worried about the life of my child. I knew I only had one shot to do anything, and I had to make it count.
“Viktor told you he got this from disarming a bomb. Which is true, but do you think he would tell you that he knew the person that planted it?”
I shook my head ‘no’.
“His own father did it. He was a true Russian, through and through. Always wanted everything back to the old way, and was willing to go to any lengths to get it.”
It was shocking to think that Viktor’s father was capable of doing such a thing. I could see fear in Viktor’s eyes as the story was being revealed.
“I wonder if Viktor would have told you about what happened after he stopped that bomb.”
I once again shook my head.
“I drove to his father’s house, walked in the front door, and shot him straight through the skull.”
Anton was beginning to tremble while telling the story.
“Of course, seeing as how his old man was still quite high up in government, his death would mean a trip to the gulag for anyone that took the blame. Your wonderful man, Viktor, my partner, decided that his guilt was too much to bear. Not even a month after we received our medals and he turned me in.”
He threw the medal at Viktor. Viktor looked toward the ground defeated.
“You murdered my father,” Viktor said.
“And, you destroyed my life!” Anton shouted back.
I continued to back away. It might not be much, but it was something to keep me from going mad from being so close to his rage.
“Viktor, have you ever spent a winter in a Gulag? There is no heat; you hope that the next day will be your last, while simultaneously planning your revenge, holding out for the slim chance you might have it.”
Anton leaned against the dresser and sighed deeply.
“I’m not a bad person, everything I’ve done has been for my country. I am here for my one piece of respite, and it’s almost too perfect. I killed your father, and now I get to kill your child.”
Anton raised the gun again to fire; I was shaking from fear so much, and tears were streaming down my cheeks.
Viktor stood up, holding his shoulder to staunch the blood loss.
“Anton,” he said.
Anton wheeled around and looked back at Viktor.
“Viktor, there’s nothing you can say that will change my mind now. I need this.”
“Anton, I will pay you anything, I will give you whatever you want, but leave Brandy and my child out of our feud.”
Anton lowered the gun for a moment, but I caught a gleam of sudden rage in his eye as I saw him quickly turn toward me.
I was ready for it, though. As he began to turn, I whipped off the blanket I was wearing and threw it at him as quickly as possible.
A gunshot rang out and deafened the room. I whipped the gun in my hand up and pointed it at Anton. My hand shook so much I didn’t think I’d hit anything.
My thoughts flooded into my head all at once. This wasn’t just for me; this was for the future and for my child. I found a sense of calm in the depth of my being that I never felt, and suddenly everything seemed so easy.
I aimed the gun and pulled the trigger. A shot echoed around the room again, then another, and another. I kept pulling the trigger, over and over, until Anton fell to the floor. I kept the gun trained on him and kept pulling the trigger for everything that had gone wrong over the course of my entire life. I kept pulling the trigger for every time I felt weak and for every time my nerves got the better of me. I pulled the trigger. I killed him, and a piece of me died there with him.
I dropped the gun while tears flowed from my eyes; while pain wracked every last inch of my body. I didn’t want to open my eyes again and see the sight that would be forever burned into my memory.
Viktor was on me, quickly. He covered me
with kisses and checked every inch of me to make sure I was alright. Thankfully I was unharmed, not a single scratch showed itself.
“You’re alright!” he shouted at me, I could hear him crying out of joy or sadness I couldn’t tell.
“I killed him,” I said.
“Yes, yes you did.”
“I killed him,” I repeated.
Viktor nodded and hugged me closer. I heard the doors to the room open and a couple of security men stormed in with guns at the ready.
“We’re alright,” Viktor proclaimed.
The men lowered their weapons. I still stared at the blanket, now covered in blood.
“I killed him,” I repeated again, sobbing into my hands.
Viktor picked me up and carried me from the room. One of his guards handed him another blanket that he took and threw over me.
He took me down the hall to another room, quite a bit smaller, but still quite cozy. He sat me in a chair just inside the entrance and got down on his knees in front of me.
I finally realized how badly he was bleeding, running my hand over his wound on his shoulder.
“Viktor, you’re hurt. You need to see a medic.”
He tensed in pain and pulled my hand away from his shoulder.
“I’ll see one soon. There’s an ambulance on the way.”
“Viktor, I killed Anton.”
“I know,” he replied.
Viktor took my head between his hands, grasping it hard and staring directly into my eyes. I could feel his intensity again.
“You saved our child,” he said.
All thought left me, I hadn’t considered that.
“With your actions, you have given our child the chance to live, to grow, to love. You made that happen, and you will make that happen.”
I could feel my tears beginning to dry up. Thinking about saving a life, rather than taking one was helping. I stared back into Viktor’s eyes and smiled. Not all my anger and frustration was gone, but I could feel them dulling.
The medics found us inside the building briefly afterward. And, it took a bit of coercing to pry Viktor from me for a while so they would be able to have a look at his shoulder wound. With their examination they discovered that it was a deep wound but didn’t hit anything major, expecting him to make a full recovery.
I looked up at the wall in the room we were in and noticed something familiar.
“Viktor, is that the painting you bought from me when we first met?”
Viktor sheepishly nodded.
“It is. I hid it in here during the party to keep it from drunken guests. I prefer it to be hung in my bedroom.”
It was a pale blue piece, with concentric circles flowing in and around each other in so many colors; it was impossible to keep track of them all.
“I remember when I sold it to you I thought it was hideous, but now I might be turning around on it.”
Viktor laughed.
“It’s a funny thing, that, how our opinions can change so quickly.”
We bought plenty of art over the years, but that first picture never left our collection. And, we never met anyone else like Anton.
*****
THE END
A Dangerous Game – A BWWM Football Romance
“He’s lookin’ a bit rough today, Angie,” I heard Jim saying behind me.
“Everyone has their off-days, Jim,” I replied.
“It seems it’s been more of an off-season. The kid threw three interceptions this game alone. If he keeps this up, he won’t be on the roster next season.”
He was right; this was a rough situation that Jake got himself into. His numbers were really low, and it was going to set me into a difficult position for negotiating his contract for next season.
Monica was here watching as well; I use the word watching very loosely because she preferred to spend her time nursing a glass of wine and talking to the other wives.
She was quite gorgeous, slim-figured and tiny; just the way Jake seemed to like them. I never really cared, quite honestly. She was the kind of girl I avoided; easy to look at and hard to please. The only real conversation we had was about money, and how much her boyfriend was going to make her.
They were talking so loud that I couldn’t help but overhear a bit of their conversation.
“He’s making good money, are you going to make him put a ring on it?”
Monica replied, “There’s only one sure way to get him to ask me, and I don’t know if I should talk to him about it, or just surprise him.”
“You’re not thinking about having kids, already.”
“I always wanted a family, and I don’t want to have to wait to start one. He’s taking his sweet time proposing. I thought maybe if I had a bun in the oven he might man up and ask.”
“You’re terrible, Monica.”
Monica giggled along with her friends. I couldn’t figure out how someone could talk about having kids in such a cavalier attitude.
I tossed back the rest of the scotch in my glass and made for the bar nearby. This game was beginning to look like another loss, and I knew that my boss would probably be ready to yell at me on Monday, and I didn’t want to be sober for that.
Monica gave me looks as I walked by, and I could feel the disgust coming from her friends as well. It seemed like they’d never seen a hard working black woman before; as though all they wanted me to do was bring them a serving tray.
“Another Scotch, Angie?” asked Devlin, the barman.
I nodded, and he poured me another.
“You better make that a double, Devlin. It’s going to be a long night.”
He added more caramel liquor to the glass while I reached for my wallet.
“I think this one is on the house. Maybe it’s high time to start buying something to eat before you make yourself sick.”
“Thanks, Dev. It’s going to be another one of those nights. Are you going to be working tonight, again? I can swing by and give you a hefty tip.”
He smiled.
“If you’re drinking then I know I won’t starve for the next month. I got a few rumors flying around, though.”
“What have you heard, Dev,” I asked.
He leaned over the bar to whisper.
“Some of the players are planning a night out. A couple of ‘em just fired their agents, and might be on the market; If you come with a straight head, then you might just bag one.”
I pulled out a large tip and shoved it into Devlin’s hand. He tipped his hat, and I returned to the game.
There was almost no shock at all from me when I noticed that we were behind in the scoreboard. I plopped down in my chair and nursed my drink. It was going to be a long afternoon.
2.
I’m a classy dresser when I want to be, and for a night on the town, it was rare. If you’re going to be dropping it on the bedroom floor anyway, it’s best just to dress light and wear as little as possible.
I didn’t have that intention tonight, but I still wanted to drink to forget Jake’s abysmal performance today. Devlin was right, though, it would be a great opportunity to cheer my boss up by signing a new client.
Working with athletes and spending so much time around attractive people was an amazing inspiration to eat right and exercise regularly. The last thing you want to be is the ugly person in the corner trying to sign a new client.
Still, no amount of exercise will cure genetics. And, as it was, I was stuck being curvier than most. I did enjoy the compliments from men that I slept with. They said I had nice breasts, not too big, not too small. But, I always thought my best feature was my legs, they were long and toned. To compliment my figure, I wore a long black gown that scooped low in the back and showed off my small amount of muscle.
Upon arriving at the trendy little club I made sure to tip the bouncer well, he always let me in when I came by, now.
You can get anything in life if you’re willing to spend the right amount of money. But, sometimes, a friendly smile is worth more. I
walked towards the bar after I got in, and I could already see a couple of players that I recognized from today’s game. One of the players was celebrating victory over our local team with some women of the evening. I rolled my eyes at how easy some of these players were.
“Devlin, I think I’ll have another drink. Send one over to that player with the girls as well, would you?”
Devlin nodded and started pouring. Once the drink was delivered, it was easy enough to ingratiate myself into the group of women.
I worked my subtle charms for about an hour before the player agreed to come in for a visit tomorrow before returning home. I handed him my card and got his number before buying his group another drink and walking off.
I tend to get tunnel vision when I see something I want, and it becomes easy to trip over things you didn’t see coming. This thing happened to be a man. My drink slipped from my hands and covered his shirt in my third drink of the evening.
“Oh, excuse me. I can get clumsy after a few drinks.”
I could already see the bouncer looking at me, hoping that I wouldn’t make a scene.
“It’s fine,” he said.
I grabbed a nearby cocktail napkin and started doing my best to clean him off. He did the same. His shirt didn’t look cheaply made in the slightest, and I didn’t think that any amount of dry cleaning would take out the stain I’d just caused.
“Angie?” he said.
I looked up; it was Jake. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t recognized him earlier.
“Oh wow. Hi Jake,” I responded.
He took the napkin out of my hands threw it on the table. Then yanked the button-up over his head; revealing a tight white shirt underneath. He was rippling with muscle, and I rather lost my train of thought.
“What are you doing at this hole in the wall?” he started. He tossed the shirt to the table, and I took a second to compose myself.
“I come here pretty often; my place is a block away. I got a good tip on some talent looking for representation. What about you; I thought you never went out after a game.”
He rolled his eyes.
“Oh yeah, that,” he said.
“I guess, there’s only one way to celebrate a loss,” I replied.
He shuffled back into his seat.
“You know, you owe me a drink. How about you get me a Jack and Coke, and I’ll tell you about it.”
