“No.” A frustrated edge cut through his voice. “I was selling drugs. Aaron was giving us our cut.”
“Oh.” Dr. Hunter hesitated. “That must have been a…tough time in your life.”
He grunted.
“Your dad saw you selling drugs?”
“Well, no. We got some X from Aaron and sold it to losers at school. But my dad saw me at Aaron’s and put two and two together.”
“Ecstasy pills, huh?” When he nodded, Dr. Hunter said, “More evidence that your dad was smart. He figured out what was happening. But why…why did you get angry with him?”
Ben felt his lip tremble and cursed, silently. “Dad was telling me to stop. To watch out for getting busted. I yelled something like ‘That’s rich, Dad, coming from you.’”
“You were angry he was being a hypocrite.”
“Exactly.”
“So…Are you still selling drugs?”
“No! I only did it once, okay?”
“Okay. What made you stop?”
“Dunno…Gruncle Joe got up in my grill, I guess.”
“Grun…? Oh, Grant’s Uncle Joe?”
“Yeah, Great Uncle Joe. He caught me smoking pot at Angelo’s, and he took it from me.”
Dr. Hunter nodded. “But he doesn’t know about you selling X.”
“Nobody knows.” He looked down. “Except for my dad. And he’s just bones in the ground now.”
Dr. Hunter waited a beat. “I think he’s more than that.”
Ben felt dread tighten his throat.
“Are you sure your dad’s not the reason you stopped selling drugs? Seems to me he came to see you at just the right time. He was worried about you. He risked getting arrested to talk to you.” When Ben’s hand curled into a fist, Dr. Hunter added, “I know you’re angry he got himself in that situation—running from the police. I’d be angry too. But he tried to do right by you that day. He didn’t want you going down the same road he did. He tried to protect you, like a good father should, before he died. That was his birthday gift to you.”
Ben couldn’t help it; an angry tear slipped down his face.
“You really miss him.”
“I—I—I never g-g-got to know h-h-him.” He focused on controlling his breathing for a moment.
Dr. Hunter exhaled. “That was his tremendous loss, and I bet his biggest regret. He wasn’t there for you.”
He tried to collect himself. He blew out a breath.
“Do you ever feel like your dad might be with you now? Looking over you somehow?”
“Maybe.”
“I wonder if your dad confronting you about going to Aaron’s house is somehow related to you telling me about selling drugs. He was worried about you, and deep down you knew it wasn’t right. You’re trying to make it right by telling me now.”
“Are you mad at me?” Ben asked.
“Not mad…more concerned. I’m glad you told me. This has been weighing on you for some time. How does it feel to confess?”
“Um, pretty okay. I don’t feel so, uh, sick about it, I guess.”
“Yes, confession can make you feel a lot better. That’s why I think you should tell your mom, and maybe Grant too.”
“What?” He felt his eyes go wide. “No way. You said you wouldn’t tell my mom!”
“I’m talking about you telling her, not me. I want you to do it, as a means of moving forward and making repairs.”
“You’re crazy. She’ll be so, so pissed! And Uncle Grant—he already doesn’t care about me. This’ll make him never talk to me again!”
“You believe Grant doesn’t care about you? Where’s that coming from?”
He looked away. “Sophie said he can’t see me for a while, because of his undercover thing.”
“She told me that too.” Dr. Hunter nodded. “How does that mean he doesn’t care?”
“It’s stupid. I’m being selfish.”
“I want to hear what you’re thinking, Ben.”
He took a deep breath. “Grant said he didn’t want me turning out like my dad. He said he’d be there for me. But…he lied. I can’t even call him now! He doesn’t really care about me—he just cares about getting back at Grandpa. He only cares about the stupid FBI.”
Dr. Hunter listened with a slight frown. “I can see how you’d feel that way. All you know is men abandoning you.” Ben looked up at him. “You feel abandoned by your father, of course, and by Enzo and Angelo too. Joe’s out to sea, and now Grant’s not around.”
He shrugged.
“But I know how much Grant cares about you, Ben. You’re all he talks about in here. Grant loves Sophie too, and he’s also leaving her to do this assignment. I know it’s hard to understand, but he feels like he has to fight back. His family’s hurt him a lot, and he can’t rest until he tries to take down men like his father. It’s his way of getting power back from his father. Father-son relationships are complicated.”
Ben exhaled.
“I think you need to tell your mom and Grant about selling drugs,” Dr. Hunter said again. “When Grant finds out, naturally he’ll be upset, but his love for you won’t end there. He’ll do what he can to help you.”
“What, like making me do pushups forever?”
Dr. Hunter seemed to swallow a smile. “Well, I guess pushups are better than going to juvie.”
“Doubtful.” He sighed. “But I suppose he can’t make me do pushups if he’s not around. At least there’s that.” They sat in silence for a few moments. “Dr. Hunter?”
“Yes?”
“What if…what if they kill Uncle Grant? What if he dies?” His eyes filled with tears. “I can’t take it.”
Dr. Hunter let him cry for a while. “You’ve been through so much, Ben. It really makes me sad. It’s frightening to think about something happening to Grant. I just have to trust that he knows what he’s doing…that he’ll be okay.”
He took a shuddering breath.
“This has been an intense session,” Dr. Hunter said. “We have a few minutes left. I’m wondering, what are you up to the rest of today?”
“I’m meeting Dylan to play video games.”
“I see. Breaking out of your routine, then? Trying something different.”
He offered a small smile. “Better than selling X, I guess.”
“But less lucrative.”
“Yeah, those games cost a ton!”
Dr. Hunter nodded. “A lot of cashish. See you next Saturday at eleven?”
“Sure.” Ben rose from the sofa, and Dr. Hunter followed suit. Before going to the door, Ben hesitated. Would it be okay? He felt like an idiot asking Dr. Hunter. His neediness was disgusting.
“Um, Ben, it’s okay to say no, but I wondered…would you like a hug?” Dr. Hunter asked.
How’d he know? “Uh, sure.” He shrugged. “If you want.” He stepped into his arms, and after a moment Dr. Hunter patted his back.
“I’ll do everything I can to be here for you, Ben. I don’t want to abandon you, okay?”
“Okay.” He squeezed his eyes shut and held on tight.
8. Conscience
FOCUS. GRANT NARROWED his vision to the cards in his hand.
“What’ll it be, singer boy?” Andrei asked.
He took in a slow pull of air, trying to remember Dr. Hayes’s tips for managing anxiety. One of the bodyguards had joined them for the poker game in the West Town house, turning their little group into a foursome, and the big dude’s sizable heft distracted him.
Vladimir shifted in his chair. “You already lose tonight—why not fold this time?”
Grant looked at Vladimir, who held his hand close to his chest. Is he trying to psych me out? He finally tossed a chip into the kitty.
This earned a disdainful headshake from Vladimir’s second in command. “Your funeral.” Andrei flipped over his cards to reveal a diamond straight, easily besting Grant’s pair of tens and Vladimir’s pair of jacks. The bodyguard had wisely bowed out the previous round.
�
�You cheat,” Vladimir grumbled.
Andrei grinned as he scooped the chips toward his pile. “Some have more luck than others.” He eyed Grant’s dwindling stash. “What song you did tonight? ‘Luck Be a Lady’?” His eyes darted over to his girlfriend, perched on a loveseat by the wall. “I will sing ‘Luck Be Innochka.’ She my good luck.”
Grant looked over and noticed Innochka absorbed in something on her phone. She giggled as she and Katya huddled over the device. She hadn’t seemed to hear Andrei’s compliment.
“Idi syuda!” Andrei barked.
Grant flinched at the sudden fury in his tone.
Innochka flitted over to the table. “Da?”
“Give me phone.”
“Why?” Her hand retreated behind her back, hiding her phone. “It’s nothing.”
“Give to me!” He spun her around and yanked it from her hand, then grabbed her wrist and wrenched her arm tighter around her back. She gasped as he maneuvered her onto his lap with his hand still latched to her wrist.
Grant pressed on the balls of his feet, ready to intervene. He realized he’d stopped breathing, and he let out a silent exhale.
“What the fuck?” Andrei grunted, peering at the phone. “You girls watch porn?”
Innochka struggled in his hold. “I was looking for something for you. For a girl you’d like.”
“Then why is dick on there? You don’t need that. I satisfy you.” A flush colored his cheeks.
Katya tiptoed toward the table, her eyes honed in on Andrei.
A pained squeak escaped as he twisted Innochka’s arm more cruelly. “I’m sorry, Andrei.” Her sharp inhale as she wiggled pierced Grant’s heart.
With a shove, Andrei pushed her off his lap. She let out a cry as she landed on all fours. Before she could get up, Andrei planted the heel of his boot on the curve of her bottom and thrust her flat to the ground.
Grant’s hands curled into fists.
“This phone mine now,” Andrei hissed. “I already tell you what happens I catch you again. Up.” He gestured to the stairs. “The room. Wait for me.”
“Sorry, sorry,” she moaned as she gathered herself. “I won’t do it again.”
“Go!” he barked. “And stay out of coke. You will feel every second of punishment.”
Grant didn’t know which he wanted to do more: follow Innochka or smash Andrei.
Katya chose the former. When she stepped up behind Innochka, Vladimir’s hand darted to his belt. “Katya. You want same as her? No? You stay.”
“Da.” Katya’s staccato nods matched the fear in her eyes, and she scrambled back to the loveseat. Innochka disappeared upstairs.
Revulsion bubbled in the back of his throat. So Vladimir and Andrei beat their women. He’d had inklings before, but now he knew for sure. These Russians were just like his father.
He looked up to find Andrei glaring at him. “You still owe us from last night.” He looked at Grant’s meager pile of chips. “And more for tonight. Where is money?”
Grant moved back an inch in his chair. “I already told you I get paid tomorrow night.” His throat felt dry, and he reached for his vodka.
A low chuckle erupted from Vladimir. “This not bank.”
The bodyguard smiled.
“You pay now,” Vladimir warned.
“I’ll have it to you tomorrow, I promise,” he said, hoping the FBI was ready to intervene. He managed a smile. “I can still win it back tonight, you know.”
Andrei snorted. “Think you have problem, Mr. Sinatra.”
Vladimir studied him as Andrei shuffled the cards. “Tomorrow night,” Vladimir said. “You pay, then show us around hotel. Your boss give you combination to safe?”
His heart thumped. “I—”
The shrill ring of Vladimir’s cell phone cut him off. The don frowned as he answered, then spoke in rapid-fire Russian. Andrei folded his arms over his chest, and his knuckles whitened as he leaned in to listen to the exchange. Despite the crackle of electricity in the air, the bodyguard seemed bored.
Grant looked over to the loveseat and found Katya staring at the far wall, motionless. A Chicago wind would easily flatten her threadlike profile. He wondered if she’d consumed anything besides cocaine and vodka recently. His shoulders tensed when he thought he heard a faint sob from upstairs.
“Fuck.” Vladimir pounced to his feet, ending his call.
Andrei popped up too and went to the front closet for their coats. “Ublyudok,” he muttered.
Grant stood uneasily, watching the bodyguard head out the door with the other two close behind him.
“You stay,” Andrei hollered over his shoulder. “We got business.”
The door slammed, and Grant stared at the closed slab of wood. He glanced at Katya, who’d curled up into a ball on the small sofa. He took a step toward her but stopped when she pleaded, “Stay away for me. I not want trouble.”
“I…” He sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets, scanning the room. I don’t want trouble either. He decided to find some water to dilute the alcohol swishing around his stomach. Sophie had helped build his tolerance with some sexy body shots, but he’d been relaxed then. She couldn’t help him tolerate the current combination of alcohol and anxiety.
As he headed toward the kitchen, he had the distinct sensation of someone watching him. He looked up the stairs and found Innochka peeking around the corner.
“They left?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Good. I’ll come down.”
That drew Katya’s ire. “Innochka!” She launched into Russian.
“They’re already mad at me,” Innochka retorted from upstairs. “I don’t like the room. It’s cold. I want to come down.”
“Then keep me out of it,” Katya said, turning back to stare into the distance.
“Would you, um, like a glass of water?” he asked, still gazing up the stairwell.
Innochka swallowed, considering. “Okay.”
A sound at the door made her squeal and dash out of sight. He swiveled to face the entrance, but all was quiet. It must’ve been the wind. He stared up the stairs for a few moments, but Innochka didn’t reappear.
He filled a glass with cloudy water from the tap and took a few gulps. He tried to steady himself, feeling shaken by Vladimir’s demands for money and the FBI’s reluctance to give him more. You want to be indebted to them, Agent Bounter had told him. Draw them in just enough.
Any more indebted, and he’d end up dead.
Maybe he should seize this opportunity to go home? No. Sophie lived in the same building. He didn’t want to bring criminals near her ever again.
“No idea where they went,” he whispered into the mic.
The sobbing upstairs had started again. He searched for another glass and filled it, making a beeline for the stairs.
“You should not go,” Katya warned.
He paused. “There’re many things I shouldn’t do.” He crept up into the darkness.
It wasn’t hard to follow the loud trail of tears, and he found Innochka’s room to the right. He knocked on the slightly open door. “I have some water for you?”
Silence.
“It might help you rehydrate after all that crying?”
After a few seconds she said, “What is re-high-rate?”
“Replace water in your body.”
“Oh. Okay. Bring it, please.”
He nudged the door open and a blast of frigid air greeted him. “Why is it so col—?” He froze when he saw her lying naked on a stained mattress, the only furniture in the room.
She made no effort to cover herself. “Vladimir said no heat.”
“He turned off the vents?” He turned his back to her, squatting to set the glass of water by her feet before examining the heating vent on the worn wood floor.
“No!” she cried. “Can’t touch it. Please.”
“What?” Still turned away from her, he frowned at the wall. “I’ll get a blanket then.”
“No blankets. Not okay.”
“That’s ridiculous!”
Her voice was small. “You need to leave. Go. He’ll be mad if he sees us talk.”
The conversation would be much easier if he could face her when they spoke. “You’re naked, it’s freezing…I’m getting a blanket.”
“No!”
But he was out the door before she could stop him. He searched an adjacent bedroom and yanked a tattered quilt off the double bed. He stepped back into the room and crouched down, wrapping her up despite her protests.
When she sniffed, he instinctively reached up to wipe a tear from her cheek. Her look of admiration was so intense that he quickly rose and shuffled back to lean against the wall, his head down. Moments of silence passed.
“He’s going to beat you,” he finally said. “And he wants you naked for it.”
When he looked at her, she turned her head away, not meeting his eyes.
“Why do you stay?”
“Because sometimes he’s very good to me,” she answered.
Tattered maroon wallpaper peeled off the wall in strips, and the smell of cigar smoke hung heavy in the air.
“And Katya is my friend.” She sighed. “But the real reason I can’t leave is…he’d find me.” She drew the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “He’d kill me.”
He felt black fury. “Don’t you have family to protect you?”
“My mother.” She smiled faintly. “Back home. In Russia.”
“You have no one in the States?”
“Just you.” She tucked a strand of platinum-blond hair behind her ear as she swiveled on the mattress and blinked up at him. “Mick.”
He noticed her grip on the blanket had loosened a bit, exposing the soft curve of one breast. His eyes darted away. He could almost see his breath as he exhaled.
“You’re a nice man, Mick. You would never beat your girl. You would never hurt your girl.”
Cringing, he remembered that awful night with Sophie, after he’d found out about her and Logan. “You don’t know me.”
“But I do.” She gazed into his eyes. “When I watch you sing, I see you. Who you really are. You act all tough, all big around them, but that’s not you.”
Goose bumps prickled up his spine. Had he blown his cover? He tried to redirect the conversation. “Why is your English better than the others?”
On Best Behavior (C3) Page 9
