Fearless 2

by Amarie Avant

  “Zariah?” Vassili shouts up the stairs.

  Please don’t come up… please don’t come up… This is déjà vu, but instead of me being almost ready to pop, I’m only three months pregnant now. He’s right at the proper weight, and if you let him tell it, he prefers kholodets, that nasty ass meat jelly stuff over a good burger and fries. So, I’m not in the mood for his ass. Gulping down a lump of food, I shout a reply, “Be down in a sec.”

  He’s hustling upstairs now, so I slide my food over. “Natasha,” I start to get up, but that will defeat the entire purpose of hiding my stash on the opposite side of me.

  “You are in so much trouble,” Vassili stands there, arms folded.

  “Why do you move so quickly?” I grumble with a smile.

  He comes in, scoops Natasha into his arms and gives her crazy kisses on her neck. “So, you’re the accomplice? Did she force you to eat this shit, or did you do it willingly?” He asks her as she giggles.

  “Language,” Yuri says, walking into the room with a gait. “Hello, Zariah, cutie pie, don’t allow that, he’ll tickle you until you can’t breathe.”

  Vassili swings Natasha high, and catches her a foot before she can hit the ground. I clutch a hand to my chest, right at my heart. “Yuri, get him before you two are sporting matching war wounds.”

  Yuri chuckles. “Hey, this right here has the pussy flying,” he says, knocking his cane to his calf—which I suspect is more healed than he lets on.

  “Now, you’re cussing,” I tell him.

  “Aw, that’s not a bad word, it’s a… beautiful thing.”

  “Keep having this conversation with my wife, and find yourself waking up in that exact spot in a few hours,” Vassili threatens. He pulls out a chair, and sits.

  “French fry?” Natasha holds the fry so tightly the center mushes in her hand.

  “No, sweetheart. I’ll take some tea; can you make daddy some tea?” He asks her.

  “Yay!” She hurries to get up. Falls, and then heads to the Mickey Mouse play kitchen she has.

  “Zariah,” Vassili says my name, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m gonna change the flight itinerary.”

  “Nyet, brat—no, brother,” Yuri huffs. “Mikhail is moving in the house; he and the rest of my brothers will stick around town until Danushka comes out from hiding.”

  Vassili doesn’t seem convinced. They set aside businesses and their lives after Igor—the baby, second only to Yuri, died.

  While Mikhail is tasked with keeping his father from grieving it was Yuri who set in sequence the death of the Bertolucci family. I suspect that Vassili doesn’t believe the other brothers were callus enough to handle it. And right now, he wants to keep me and Natasha safe.

  “What if Danushka comes around?” Vassili spits the words at his cousins, eyeing myself and Natasha with a world of concern.

  “You think I’d let that cunt hurt Cutie Pie?” Yuri clutches at his cane and comes over. “Zariah, you’re my sister now.”

  My husband isn’t moved by his cousin’s sincerity. “We will all arrive the morning of the match. Together.”

  “No, baby, we’ll not,” I shake my head, climbing to my knees, I crawl over, and plant myself before him. We’re eye to eye, with him in the tiny chair. “You have to be well rested. I’ll be in Australia, before you even know it.”

  I’m comfortable. Noriega is rotting in jail, for at least 16 months on drug possession—pathetic, I know. He should be in jail for the abuse of his wife, but Felicidad is still afraid of him. His attorney is so busy fighting me over his assets. This fool is so flashy that his cars are worth more than his one home, but Felicidad is stepping into her blessings. An involuntary termination of his parental rights is in the works as well. That should be slapped in his face tomorrow during, hopefully, the last of the contested court hearings for the Versa family will. My client’s parents want the continued litigation hearings to dissuade my client.

  So, the very next morning, if all things go to plan, I’ll be on the plane with Natasha. Maybe I’ll even sneak some Benadryl into her apple juice sippy cup so we can both get a few winks before the fight.

  Zariah

  The day death knocked at my door began like any other. Well, a little differently. Mikhail had followed me around everywhere since Vassili and Yuri had left. This morning, we both agreed that Natasha and I can make it to the airport ourselves.

  So, I wake up with a pep in my step. The Hollywood attorney I fought with over the sizeable Versa family will had given in just yesterday afternoon.

  While dressing Natasha, I facetime my mother on my iPad, and set it against her teddy bear.

  “Aw, honey, I wish I was traveling with you today.”

  “Mom you have your very first appointment with Dr. Jester.” I hold my tongue about my wishes to be there with her during her therapy session about her past issues of domestic violence abuse, but she must build rapport with Dr. Jester, and Martin tells me that I enable our mother.

  “I can’t believe I’m missing Australia! The men out there are made of solid gold,” she joshes.

  “Humph,” I begin, slipping baby oil on Natasha’s feet. I grab her calf as she flips over to get away, and pull her back down. “Actually, you’re staying home sounds like even more of a good idea, with the way you continue to go on about it. Gushing over men.”

  “Tsk, just because your man is made of—”

  “TMI, mama, I have no desire be made aware of your thoughts of my husband.”

  “Vassili is still a boy, and he’s my son, so don’t worry about this Georgia Peach! I need me a silver fox, honey. Now, let me see Cutie Pie.”

  “Just a sec.” I’m like a NASCAR pit stop, in my endeavors to get Natasha’s shoes on before she hightails it. When I sit her up on the changing table my heart melts. My little caramel drop is wearing a dress with green and pink hibiscus flowers on it. Her long curly eyelashes further make me fall in love with her. She’s my everything.

  “Honey, all those outfits. Seriously, you should’ve just put her in a pair of pajamas to go to the airport. Those folks run the air condition like they want you to get sick.”

  “I got you covered mom.” I place Natasha on my hip, move to her vast closet and pull out an 18-month sized trench coat.

  “Come closer…” My mom says, squinting.

  When I turn around, I laugh and say, “Yikes!” at the sight of just Zamora’s eyes glancing through the screen.

  This prompts Natasha to giggle.

  “Oh, I like, I like. Is this one of Taryn and her whore of a mother’s purchases?”

  “Mama!”

  “Now, Answer me, child.”

  “Yes.”

  “You know she propositioned your father. And her husband put the moves on me.”

  “There’s a baby in the room.” I warn.

  “Natasha doesn’t understand. Any who, Taryn is a miniature hoe, too. But you two have always been very good friends.”

  “We are. Nevertheless, we’re getting older, and at different stages of our lives.”

  “Like Ronisha?”

  “Aw, I miss Ro.” I head to the diaper bag, and riffle through it to determine if all the necessities are packed. “Okay, Mom, I’m headed to the airport, you have an appointment to catch.”

  “Time for a quick prayer?”

  I pick up the iPad, toggle to the main screen, and my eyes widen at the time. “Sorry, Mom. I’ll call you once I start driving. We can pray then.”

  When we hang up, I carry Natasha and her diaper bag downstairs. Vassili packed my car two nights ago, prior to his departure. Although, Mikhail offered to do it. But this morning when I woke up, I took at least five trips to the garage to check everything, and now I have yet another duffle bag that I jog upstairs to get.

  It feels like my head is screwed on backward when Natasha and I are finally buckled in.

  “Daddy, daddy,” she says, as I glance back at her in the rearview while opening the garage.

 
“We’re on our way to see Daddy, baby.” I press the car in reverse, and then sigh. The thought pops into my head to open the diaper wipe container. Vassili has a habit of using them all, but not refilling the darn thing. Pressing the shift into park, I reach behind me, and grab the diaper bag. The container is in a side compartment, I pull it out and open it.

  Damn you, Vassili, what the hell am I supposed to do with two measly diaper wipes? I get out of the car, unlatch Natasha from her car seat, and say, “Let’s put the sippy cup down,” as I give her the look that says, this is the reason we need an arsenal of baby wipes. Her chubby fists, hold on tight. I pluck her to my chest, press the garage button, and run down the hall.

  I don’t hear the garage door closing. I grumble. So much for extra precautions. Juice spills on me as I take the stairs two at a time. We’re back downstairs in seconds. My cell phone buzzes in my pocket.

  “Natasha, you wanna walk?” I huff, breathing heavy. She clings to my hip, as I reach around to grab the iPhone.

  Vassili.

  “Hey, baby,” I huff, heading toward the hallway.

  “Zariah, beautiful, you on your way?”

  “I'm trying. Your child refuses to walk,” I again try to remove the chubby baby at my side. “I opened the garage. Forgot something. Now I'm headed back to the garage with Natasha on one hip, her favorite juice spilling on me.”

  “That’s Natasha, mayhem with apple juice.”

  I chuckle. “Whatever, Vassili. I don’t have time to be abused by your mini me.”

  My pupils expand as I glance toward the garage exit. The sun is beaming down on Juan Noriega Senior. The way our home is built, with the windy driveway, the tropical flowers are his background. He’s wearing a jumpsuit from Twin Towers Correctional Facility. There’s a Glock in his hand.

  “I’m all sticky, and we have less than an hour to…” My thought drops, but I keep trying, “We ---we have….” I continue but my train of thought has smashed to smithereens.

  Vassili is in my ear, saying, “Zariah, girl. What’s wrong—”

  “Mrs. Resnov,” Noriega scratches his skull with the nozzle of his gun as he steps closer to us, “you've taken everything from me.”

  My baby is in my arm, a fist full of my hair in her hand, pulling. Not a worry in the world. “Mr. Noriega… wh-what are you doing at my house? How do you know where I live?”

  “My attorney, he gets paid well.”

  “Zariah!” Vassili shouts into the phone. “Who is that?”

  “Oh, is your husband on the phone?”

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to beg and plead with Noriega, but Vassili’s voice is lower. “ZARIAH, WHO IS—”

  Noriega’s lips bunch into a frown. “Tell him.”

  “It's Juan Noriega. I’m representing his wife in their divorce,” I murmur into the phone, then I talk to my enemy. “Let’s talk, Mr. Noriega, you and me. Let me put my child in the house so we can talk.”

  There’s silence from the gang member as my husband asks, “Does he have a gun?”

  “Yes…” I manage to say before Vassili orders me to give Noriega my phone.

  “Okay,” I reply to my husband. When I hand it over, Noriega’s cold tone churns. “The infamous Vassili Resnov.”

  He proceeds to tell Vassil that he’s already dead. My body wavers in disgust as he mentions his parental rights were terminated.

  “Mommy? Mommy…” Natasha has stopped whacking me with her sippy cup and pulling my hair. Her sticky hand caresses my cheek. Oh, God, I have to keep her safe. And our baby. We aren’t even aware of our baby’s sex. The tiny embryo in my belly has yet to mold…

  “Noriega, talk to me,” I speak up. My husband is adding fuel to the fire, and the man before me is shooting bullets with his gaze as he speaks into the phone. “Talk to me.” I start to set Natasha down, but he cocks the hammer back.

  Into the phone Noriega says, “You're capable of that, Mr. Resnov. The only problem is, I no longer have a heart. Adios, mi amigo.”

  He clicks the off button and drops my phone to the ground. “You’re a bad bitch, aren’t you,” Noriega steps closer to me. This motherfucker is perfectly eye level with my forehead. He presses the gun against my forehead and breaths in my breasts.

  “How did you get out?”

  “Technicality, while you’ve been riding my cock, my attorney—” Noriega pauses, now pushing the barrel of his gun to my mouth. “You have been riding my dick, right?”

  I keep my chin up, there’s no denying him.

  “Yeah, my attorney looked into Nicks. He’s new. And my bitch is so afraid of men these days, I knew it was you. So, while I sat in fucking jail, my attorney made it a priority to see just what Zariah Resnov has been up to. Then he got around to looking into my case. All the little technicalities.” He shrugs. “I should let you have that baby, raise the little fucker as my own. Screw you a few times before you die,” He says, his mucous tongue twirling across the tops of my tits. “Shit, maybe drink that milk of yours, eh? Should I, Zariah, take you to Mexico, keep you locked up till that little baby is born.”

  His gun goes to Natasha’s head.

  “But this little puta right here, she can go.” When the barrel of his gun goes to my daughter’s mouth I start to say the Lord’s Prayer. There’s no arguing or talking with Noriega, telling him how I feel will make it worse.

  Then I hear footsteps.

  “Zariah, yoo-hoo, Zariah, are you there?” A familiar feminine voice calls.

  Noriega trains his gun to my belly as Danushka Molotov walks up to my garage like it’s her personal runway, with an outfit that looks like it’s meant for Paris. She’s wearing a fur vest, blouse and skinny jeans, and her face is as oblivious as ever. “I was in the neighborhood,” she holds up a flowery canvas material dessert case, with both hands.

  “Bitch, who are you?” Noriega glances over his shoulder.

  “I’m Danny,” she offers Noriega her stuck up frown, and dismisses him as if he’s one of the staff members at her home.

  “Danny, just…” I swear, she is super blond today, because she doesn’t see the horror in my eyes as she heads up to us.

  “Horace has been super busy. I made tiramisu, you know, one of my new recipes, and I honestly thought you were gone. I was going to drop it off on the steps out front then I heard talking—”

  “Are you stupid or something?” Noriega begins to turn around.

  A shot rings out.

  Blood splashes onto my face and in Natasha’s hair as Noriega crumples to the ground.

  Danushka drops the dessert case. “Actually, it came out dry, so I packed this instead,” she holds up her own gun.

  “You’re Danushka Resnov?”

  “I am.”

  “But you can’t be. You don’t look anything like her.” I say, rooted to the same spot. She steps over Noriega, bypasses me and a shocked Natasha for the garage button.

  “I’m filthy rich, Zariah. Let’s go in the house to talk.”

  I walk into my home behind her, with my baby’s face hidden in my neck. Natasha seems to be in tune with my worry still.

  “But your name, Danushka,” I say it right once again.

  “Oh, you figured out how to say it,” Danny offers a smile over her shoulder. She heads into the kitchen. “My logic was, why make up some name like Daria, and I don’t look like a Viktoria. That would’ve made you even more suspicious.”

  “Are you going to kill me?” I ask, eyeing her gun.

  “Oh this? Nyet.” She gestures toward the gun and places it on the counter. “We’re friends, Zariah. You are smart and rational. I took a chance by coming to you with my real name. Besides, when you searched me, an associate of mine had already altered my maiden name from Resnov to Petru. There is a Danushka Petru. Actually, there was.”

  “You killed her?”

  “Dah. Horace thought it was a good idea.” She opens the refrigerator and shuffles around while adding, “Speaking of my husband, he isn’t aw
ay on business today. He’s manning the jet himself. It should be fueled.”

  “Then what do you want from me?”

  Danushka starts to open a string cheese. “Cutie Pie?”

  “No,” I shake my head.

  “Alright, Zariah, my main goal is for us to continue to be friends.” Danushka continues to hold out the string cheese. Natasha doesn’t make a move to take it. With a frown on her face, she bites half of it. “I was a big girl, all muscle, but a big girl. I still love cheese.”

  “What do you want, Danushka?”

  “For us to be friends. I feel like it’ll be necessary to reiterate as much over again. Hopefully not during the entire flight to Australia. I also need you to tell Mikhail to play nice when he arrives in a few moments. That cousin of mine is such an educated man. Dr. Resnov. I smile every time I say it.” She grins. “We have many doctors and high officials in our family, but Mikhail listened to his father, he works for the benefit of people in general.”

  “What else?” I lick my lips. Danushka is on a bigger mission, I can smell it.

  “Also, you will not have any side conversations with Mikhail during our lengthy travel. Neither of you are to tell Vassili that I’m here yet. I prefer to make an entrance. Oh, and one last thing, Zariah, I’d like you to help me make friends with my brat.”

  It takes a while for me to process the many orders she just gave. This entire hour has been a hard pill to swallow, and now, Danushka is making orders. Vassili was vehement during the many times he told me to stay away from her.

  The Danushka he ‘stuffed down my throat’ metaphorically speaking looked nothing like this. I have an entire rundown on ‘this’ Danushka’s background, and due to her name being as common as Mary, Brittany, or Ashley, in their culture, I wrote it off as my Danny being different from the bitch of a sister of his.

  How could I be so stupid?

  And how the hell do I get away from this psycho? I realize, for my daughter’s sake, that I won’t. We will go to Vassili, but there’ll be a Christian revival in hell before he agrees to make friends with his half-sister.

  Vassili

  “Mikhail is at the house, Vassil. Zariah is fine, Natasha is fine.” Yuri attempts to catch my eye as he tugs on my arm. We’re walking through the lobby of the hotel. He’s stumbling with his cane. There are streams of water, designed throughout the area. I have to give it to my cousin, for keeping up.