Let Me In-Dragan's Tale: The Mikhailov Brothers

by Amanda Hough

  On my twenty-first birthday, I spent the better part of thirty hours being tortured in a Ukrainian barrack on the outskirts of L’viv near the Polish border. My memories of the experience were sketchy at best. I knew I didn’t break. I knew I got the details the U.S. government wanted. I knew a team of three U.S. Navy Seals got me out and I know the long, white scar that travels from my left eyebrow to my chin is from my own pocketknife. I think the fuck found it funny to mark me with my own weapon.

  I got the last laugh though. The Seals took out the six men on the perimeter and let me have the prick who’d been electrocuting my balls for the better part of the day. It was my first Russian bowtie. A messy way to kill someone but dramatic and memorable.

  A deep, heartfelt laugh came from Evelyn and the sound pulled me from my ruminations. I offered a nod to the pair but wasn’t really paying attention to the conversation. My eyes were back to Rosa and the beautiful bartender.

  As Rosa made her way around the bar, the patrons were three deep and ten wide, calling out drink orders. With four bartenders at the taps, Toni’s presence was unnecessary. In fact, it looked like more of a hindrance. Not only did she treat her customers like shit, but the misguided fools who thought they had a shot at going home with the beauty stayed at her end of the bar. In spite of the fact that they could travel ten feet and get a bartender who wasn’t so busy and would serve them what they actually wanted.

  I continued to study the scene as Rosa approached Antonina from behind. She looked unhappy with the exchange going on between Toni and a patron. No doubt the bartender was schooling the suit on bar etiquette or at least the protocol he was going to follow if he wanted his drink. I’d seen her do that a lot. And this prick looked like the kind of man Toni ate for dinner. Expensive suit, golfer’s tan, indent on his ring finger where a wedding band had been only minutes ago. She’d mastered the art of stringing dicks like that along until the conclusion, apparent to everyone except the dude, played out. She got a great tip and he was left with an empty pocket and a hard-on. That shit would stop soon enough. On more than one occasion I’d spied her making her way to the bus stop at two in the morning. She took too many chances around men who would doubtless maim for a shot at getting in her pants.

  CHAPTER THREE

  BEERS

  Toni

  “I’m serious sweetheart. You lift up that flannel shirt you have on and let me see your ass in those leather pants…I will buy you a fucking car. I kid you not.” The man in the suit’s face flushed with his promise. His voice squeaked in earnest. This kind of customer was a waste of my time. I did not date patrons. Ever. I just didn’t tell the customers that. Let ’em think they had a chance. They came back, spent more money and tipped the staff. If a man was so naive that he thought I gave him a second thought once he paid his tab and I passed him his drink, he deserved the disappointment. I was all about the bottom line.

  When I started working at The Booth I was trained by the best. Lenny Sabin taught me everything I know about running a bar. When he died five years ago, the baton was passed to me to continue training staff. Rosa, his widow, was glad to have me. The Booth was Len’s dream, not Rosa’s. I suppose I felt the responsibility to continue what Len started. Over the years, I have steadily taken over more of the responsibilities here. And I loved it. And one of the first things he taught me was to respect the product. We don’t use sub-standard spirits and we offered only beer worthy of being in our taps.

  I threw the suit a look of disgust and started my pull of Stella Artois for a hottie in a leather jacket. I got a solid gay vibe from him but I appreciated a man with good taste.

  Ignoring the married dickhead, I watched the bubbles of carbon dioxide expand and float up the tawny liquid for a moment before skimming the top off and handing it to the tall man who had been waiting patiently against the rail. “Here you go sweetie. Enjoy the show,” I said with a wink.

  “I already did,” he replied with a grin. He handed me some bills and made his way through the crowd that had queued up behind him. I caught the look David gave the customer as he passed to take the spot the man in leather had just vacated.

  “You got a great crowd tonight Rosa,” David yelled over the clamor, stealing one more glance behind him.

  Rosa nodded. “I always do when you play. All those hopeful women and closeted men,” she barked. It was true though. Having David’s band on stage brought the people out in droves. His popularity was too big for Austin only. Fist had a wild fan base all over the country. But he wouldn’t leave the city for L.A. or New York. I’d heard him tell a dozen different executives from agencies and record labels. Austin was his heart. This was where he would record. Where he would live. Period.

  David looked around. “I got no time for closeted men, baby,” he laughed. His voice sounded like someone had taken a scouring pad to it. In reality, it was a combination of five weeks touring California, Texas and Colorado and a two pack a day habit.

  “Toni!” Rosa pulled me from the tap. “Go, enjoy the night with Evelyn. Give yourself a break,” she added with a laugh.

  I turned to my friend. “You sure? We got a helluva line here Rosy.”

  Rosa shook her head and handed bottled waters to David for the band. David said with a laugh, “Look around you crazy bitch. The fucks are lined up for you…Give the other tapsters a chance.”

  I did look around and finally noticed that the bulk of the crowd had congregated in front of my taps. I would never screw the other bartenders out of tips but I hated to lose the hours. I needed every penny I was making. Rosa steered me to the end of the bar.

  “I know you need the money, Toni.” she said, reading my mind. “I owe you for opening for me all week anyway. And for cleaning the floors. Go hang out with Evie. You aren’t going to take a hit on the paycheck this week, I promise.”

  I eyed her warily. I appreciated what she was saying but still preferred to earn my pay.

  Without another word she pushed me toward David and a line of customers reformed in front of the remaining three male attendants. I said my goodbyes to the other bartenders, reminding Gary to check the lines on the domestic taps and ordering Denis back to the kitchen before I dumped my tips in the jar under the counter. The boys and I had a deal. We shared tips, always. Rosa didn’t know we shared. Thought everyone worked harder if you had to work for your own tips. I knew the truth. I had boobs. And nice ones at that. Tits equaled tips.

  David grumbled, “I love you Toni, but Christ… girl. What the fuck is the problem with you lately?” David took me by the arm and led us to our friends’ table. I could feel David’s arm tense as we got closer. Evie and Sergey were in a conversation with the leather jacket dude who ordered the Stella. Maybe David had sampled that ass and was keen to avoid a reunion. I’d been to many bars with David, only to be interrupted by a queen who’d thought he and David had something special. And then the conversation turned ugly when David didn’t know who the fuck the guy was, which was a convenient lay for the man whore that was David Ross.

  After the hesitation, he was moving again and dragging me behind him.

  “What the fuck, Davy, don’t pull me.” I tugged at his arm but my friend didn’t relent.

  “Come on, you have been avoiding Evie and she thinks it’s about her. Get your ass over there and chill with her. Whatever is going on with you and Dragan needs to get handled.”

  I stopped our progress then.

  “Nothing,” I said with equal parts disgust and venom. “Is ‘going on’ between Mikhailov and me. Just don’t like him. That’s all.”

  “Bullshit, you act like even more of a bitch than usual around him. That is a clear sign you want him or you had him. Whatever the fuck it is… it’s puttin’ Evelyn in the middle. So fix it and move on. Evie doesn’t need it and I don’t need to hear her crying that you haven’t been around for weeks. I know you Toni. Remember that.”

  “Evie cried? I didn’t mean to make her—”

  David interrupt
ed, “Don’t care. Not getting in the middle of some ‘girlfriend drama.’ Fuckin’ fix it, Toni.

  “She has a lot of shit going on. But she is happy. Just be happy for her.” David’s last remark hurt and I eyed my friend. I was happy for Evie. No one was more pleased for my friend than I was. Things were just complicated. And yes, I avoided the Dragan. There was that.

  We reached the table and David unceremoniously deposited me in the chair next to Evie, who kissed me on the cheek.

  Evelyn stood and guided the mystery guest around the table to face the newcomers.

  “Toni, David…this is Marcus Newland,” Evie began introductions. “Mr. Newland, these are my two oldest and best friends in the world, Toni Hume and David Ross.”

  I nodded a hello, grabbed the neck of Evie’s beer bottle and made the pilsner my own.

  Marcus Newland turned to face David and extended his hand. David studied it for a moment before offering his own. “I keep telling Evelyn to call me Mark. Nice to meet you, David. I am well acquainted with your… reputation,” he said with a smirk.

  David reluctantly chuckled then and released the man’s hand. “Oh, yeah. My reputation? You mean my music?”

  Marcus’s face turned serious. “No, I mean your reputation.” The man’s green eyes sparkled with amusement and…something else.

  All eyes stayed on the men until Marcus excused himself to join his friends near the bar.

  “Well!” Evelyn began. “What the hell was that? Did we just witness David having a moment with someone? Did you see sparks?” she asked no one in particular. “’Cause I saw sparks.” She was enjoying herself.

  David scoffed but his eyes stayed on the retreating man’s back. “Evie, my darling, just because you are head over heels in love, don’t drag the rest of us down with you.”

  Evelyn blew him a kiss and settled her focus back on me. David started talking to Dragan and Sergey about Spurs tickets but I tuned that out. Didn’t care.

  “So…,” she started. “Are we ok? This is the first I have seen you in like two weeks. If something is going on…if you need anything, you know you can count on me right?” Evie’s voice was low, tentative. I felt like an asshole. Of course I could count on her. She was the best friend anyone could ask for.

  “Everything is fine, Evie. I’ve been so busy. Besides you needed time to let that hunky Russian take care of you,” I offered in dismissal.

  “Is Patsy ok? How are her therapies going?” Evie was asking about my mom, Patsy. And no, things were not going well but there was no way I was sharing that then. My mom had been sick for a long time. She had Multiple Sclerosis and she’d go years with minor episodes, but over the past year, it’s been hitting her hard. We had a nice break from symptoms during the holidays but on Christmas Eve things had gotten worse. I wasn’t ready to talk about that so I lied to Evie and told her all was well.

  Evie wasn’t buying it but she didn’t push because she knew I’d share when I was ready. So she decided to dive right into what had been bothering her. “Look, is something going on between you and Dragan? I get a weird feel from you two. And David said—”

  I interrupted my best friend right there, “Fuck what David said. There’s nothing going on. I just don’t like him. His presence makes me…” I shuttered unwilling to finish the thought.

  Evelyn looked at me shocked. “Toni, tell me you are not judging Dragan because he looks the way he does. He can’t help—”

  “Don’t be naïve Evie. What the hell do I care what he looks like? He barely says two words to me. And when he does, they’re fucking rude. Come on, Evelyn. He knows shit about the criminal underworld in Texas. The guy is bad news. That’s all.”

  Evelyn was unconvinced. “Oh, so suddenly you are an upstanding member of society. This from the woman who taught me and David how to roll a joint. So, it’s not about his appearance?”

  I laughed at the memory. I could roll some tight bud in my day. “No, I’m just… I don’t know Evie. I have seen some things the last couple weeks.” I brought my voice down to a whisper. “I think Dragan is up to something.”

  Evie’s brows knitted together. She knew the look, the tone she was getting from me. “Please, Toni, don’t go all mystery machine and the gang on me. You think there is a conspiracy at every corner. Don’t judge Dragan like that. He is a good man. He wants to make a life in Austin. Sergey and Brenna want to support that and I will support them.”

  I cut her off. “Babe, that’s great but it’s got nothin’ to do with me. And he’s not a good man, Evie. You always think the best of people. It’s one of your biggest flaws.”

  Evie gave me a look that suggested she thought I was nuts. But it was true. People sucked. I knew this for a fact. Evie was naive. And in my opinion, being naive around Dragan Mikhailov was a huge mistake.

  I edged closer and whispered, “He meets shady looking people here all the time. Always sitting in the corner booth.” Evie started to interrupt but I continued, “I mean it! He has been meeting with Rosa too. Real sneaky meetings at the end of the night. They go off together during the day. What if he is a mobster and is shaking her down for protection money.”

  Evie’s throaty laugh stopped more than one conversation around the table. I waited impatiently while my friend wiped tears from her eyes.

  “Oh my God, Toni. You are too much. Sergey told me Dragan is working on opening a business. He is probably getting advice from Rosa.”

  And then it was my turn to laugh. “Evie, how good of a business woman could Rosa be. She lets me run the bar for her for Christ’s sake,” I joked.

  Evie chuckled. “Fair enough. Maybe they are fooling around,” she whispered

  “Fooling around?” I asked incredulously. Dragan and Rosa. No, not Rosa. Before an unwelcome emotion could take root, I stomped it with a mental combat boot. It was nothing to me if they were screwing. I needed to keep repeating that to myself.

  Evie explained. “Rosa is lovely. All that dark, native skin and black hair. And she is a no nonsense woman. I get the impression Dragan doesn’t care for the ‘high maintenance’ type.”

  That made me growl. “You know I hate that phrase, ‘high maintenance.’ Women take care of themselves so they are difficult. That is horseshit. If a man cares about his appearance, no one calls him ‘high maintenance—”

  Before I could get both feet on my feminism soapbox, Evie stopped me. “Toni, all I mean is he seems to appreciate the less fussy things in life. I could see him and Rosa together. She is a natural beauty who doesn’t call a lot of attention to herself. And—”

  “No,” I stopped her speech. “I know what kind of woman he wants. Dragan Mikhailov needs a wallflower to bat her lashes and blush at his presence. But you should see how he cowers when a confident woman proposes...” I bit my lip and let my voice trail off. My friend caught the look on my face and too late I’d realized I’d said too much.

  Evie’s eyes widened. “Oh, my shit. Did Dragan turn you down?” The question held a little too much mirth for my liking.

  “No… well… no! Not exactly,” I stuttered.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were avoiding him because he denied you some nookie?’ she asked with a laugh, nudging me with her shoulder.

  I rolled my eyes. “Evie, don’t start. You’re trying to turn the conversation around here. We were talking about Dragan, not me.”

  Evie laughed again. A hard, belly laugh. “My sweet baby, is this your first rejection? Poor Antonina.” Evie made a pouty face and laughed at me again.

  “It’s not funny. Anyway, I was drunk so it doesn’t count.”

  Evie put her arm around my shoulder and squeezed. “Oh, it counts bitch. Welcome to the real world.”

  Before I could reply, Sergey interrupted our conversation. “David is about to take the stage, babe. You want to dance?”

  Evie squeaked. “Oh my God, do you want to dance with me, Sergey?” she asked excitedly, clapping her hands.

  The man grunted and the
n purred, “Fuck no! My moya zvezda, I want to watch you dance.” Sergey reached for Evelyn and extracted her from behind the table and down to the floor.

  “Dragan, I’m takin’ Evelyn near the stage to dance. You stickin’ around?”

  The brooding man in the corner nodded and said, “ I’ll text before I leave.” Dragan stood as Evelyn rose from the table, placing a kiss on her cheek. “Looking forward to dinner tomorrow.”

  “Come hungry, Dragan! I am so excited to meet Nicolai.” She grinned and gave a shake of her head to me as she turned. Linking arms, she and Sergey disappeared into the audience.

  I watched my friend. My heart, heavy. What the fuck was the matter with me? I’d wanted this for Evie for so long but somehow seeing it made me ache. A wave of melancholy washed through my chest. It was that feeling that everything was changing; evolving into a new form, but I remained stagnant. No forward progress. I was being a total cliché but…I was losing my best friend. And a part of me wanted her all to myself.

  I was pondering what not working the bar would cost me in tips I badly needed when a voice brought me out of my mope.

  “Are you all right?” Dragan had moved across the buffer of chairs to position himself next to me. His black eyes willful and shining, considering me.

  “I’m fine.” Instantly my defenses were back in place. I did not what to be alone with this man. “Actually,” I continued. “I think I’ll go. I’ve had enough for the night. Move over and let me out.” I tried to maneuver past the big man but to no avail.

  Dragan ignored my dismissal and attempt to escape. “Is it hard to watch?”

  I looked up at him, puzzled. “Is what hard to watch?” I asked.

  “Your best friend. Happy. Not needing you. Or is it that you’re not the center of attention?”