Naomi & Bradley, It All Comes Down… (Vodka & Vice, the Series Book 1)

by Angela Conrad

  “You mother fu---“ she starts at me with the weapon.

  I raise my hands like Jesus trying to calm the Sea of Galilee. “Easy! I know what this looks like.” I roll away from the roommate, she didn't ask for any of this. Luba continues to menace me with the bottle as I try to stand, get out of her range. She's fuming.

  “This? You blew me off for THIS?” She waves a hand toward the girl. “I waited, WAITED at the Café. You know, Luba doesn't wait for anyone. Anyone!” She hurls the bottle toward me and it shatters on the floor before me. My latest conquest has made a run for it and is now safe behind her bedroom door.

  “Luba, listen, I'm sorry. I just, I don't know, panicked? I shouldn't have stood you up. A gentleman should know better.” I begin navigating the minefield of glass between us, cutting myself a few times. The sight of a naked man picking his way across the floor, wincing and muttering obscenities is too much for her and her sick sense of humor wins out. By the time I reach her, she's laughing her tiny ass off and lighting a cigarette. From behind the closed door, a faint voice comes.

  “We're not supposed to smoke in here, Luba.”

  “Shut up, whore.” Luba shoots back, smiles at me.

  “Don't take it out on her. These days I don't know whether I'm coming or going.”

  “She knows I only tease her. I call her that all the time but only because she is virgin. Well, was virgin.” Luba laughs again.

  I don't know what to think—or say. Is there a Hallmark for this occasion? “On the day of your deflowering…” I don't have to say anything because Luba has already moved on.

  “You can make it up to Luba tomorrow night. Big party at Anastasia for Valentine's Day. You pick me up at nine dahling, we dance, we drink, we forget all our worries.

  “Worries?” I take her hands, thinking we will have fun at that big old Russian nightclub by the ocean, let loose, let go. “I don't have a care in the world.”

  Luba kisses me, pulls me in for a hug, and whispers in my ear, “No? Okay this is up to you to care or not that you just took the virginity of Viktor’s baby sister.”

  “Shit.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Inducements

  NAOMI

  Monday, February 14th

  What a hell of a day.

  Darren wanting to talk about our relationship. Pressing a dozen red roses in my hand as soon as the door hit me in the ass at 8 a.m., as if he’d been lying in wait like a tiger stalking dinner.

  “Naomi, happy Valentine’s Day!”

  Hell, I hate these stupid Hallmark holidays. Of course I’ve bought Darren nothing.

  “Darren, that’s sweet, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

  “Of course I did. And that’s not all. I’m taking you out tonight to celebrate our future.”

  Hell and giant brimstones.

  “I can’t, not tonight I promised a friend I’d go out with him tonight.”

  “Cancel it.”

  “I can’t, I promised.” I really have no plans, but I would make some. I have a blast going out with Viktor. Being with my Russian roomie is far superior to being with my boss.

  It seems Darren can read minds.

  “Not that Russian ape?”

  “He’s my roomie and a friend.”

  “He sounded like more than a friend on the phone. What are you doing Naomi?”

  Hell if I knew.

  Trying to mend a broken heart.

  Soldiering onward and upward from the quicksand of memories of Bradley.

  “I’m just having fun right now. I was in a relationship for almost two years Darren. I’m not ready to jump into another one right away.”

  He flexes his fists and frowns like a spoiled boy of six.

  Darren tells me about his plans. Me moving into his penthouse, us traveling the world together, he even hints that he is ready for marriage and children. It seems that while I’ve been grieving my loss of Bradley, and trying new weaves for my black hair, Darren’s mind has wandered to bigger things then the decision to wear pearls with gold heels. He is serious.

  “I like you Darren. Please, give me a few weeks at least. C’mon, let’s get some work done.”

  All day, the stare. The look. The frown. I feel like I’m babysitting a petulant brat by five in the afternoon and I can’t wait to get home.

  The snow and black slush, the dark cloudy sky, the mood on the streets, everything seeming angry and mean. A sort of doom hangs in the misty air and I breathe in deeply before going upstairs and facing Viktor.

  I walk slowly into my loft. No Viktor, no Black Russian. Not even a street bouquet of flowers or a small box of candy. I’d left Darren’s roses at the office. I wasn’t ready for that fight. A bad sensation hits me. Viktor didn’t get so angry over my working for Darren that he moved out, did he?

  I rush into my bedroom and Viktor is asleep on my bed. I smile. It’s like finding a black grizzly bear in your bed. He’s almost nude as usual. Long, tanned legs, strong and firm. Black underwear, a surprisingly trendy brand, a bare hairy chest, wide with muscle and nice abs, and those strong arms that hold me tightly when I need comfort. His face, familiar, so like Bradley when he’s asleep, that dark wavy hair and blue eyes.

  Blue eyes.

  Viktor’s awake and he’s just caught me checking him out. He grins widely and shouts, “Darling KuKu, you’re home.”

  A thrill races up my spine. A feeling Darren doesn’t give me.

  I leap on the bed and smother him with soft kisses.

  “Hello darling Viktor.”

  He kisses me in his deep, ruthless manner, as if he’s trying to suck the very life out of me. His fingers are busy behind me, unzipping my dress. I touch his face, feel the afternoon stubble. He’s sexy hot, this foreign actor, this near stranger. I can almost feel myself falling for him while a part of me whispers, “No Naomi, no, that road leads to heartache again.”

  I don’t care, I refuse to listen, I close my eyes to the red lights flashing, the bells ringing, and I slip my hand down and against him.

  “KuKu, please let me have you baby.”

  “Tonight, I’ll be with you tonight. Let me eat something first, and have a shower.”

  He sighs, but his eyes dance with excitement.

  “You promise KuKu?”

  “I promise.”

  Later, as I towel dry my hair, Viktor surprises me by appearing dressed formally in a dark, expensive suit, with a crisp white shirt and red tie.

  “Make yourself the most beautiful KuKu.”

  Viktor whips a large box from behind his back and hands it to me with a wide grin. Happy Valentine Day, American heart day, whatever. This is for you to wear tonight. I will help you put it all together. I’m taking you out for a big party at Anastasia for this Lover’s Day. We eat, we dance, we drink, we forget our pasts, and then we make love all night long.”

  “That big Russian nightclub by the ocean?”

  “Yes darlin’ girl, that one. I have a few friends who are meeting us there, a few men from work, ladies I know, and my baby sister will be there too. I want you to meet her.”

  “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

  “Yes, much younger than me. I talked to her on the phone earlier and she has some very exciting news. She’s met her soul mate she calls him. The light of her life, or whatever. He’s a good friend of mine. It was a surprise to me, but if he’s in love with her, good enough for me. Anyway, you will adore my sister. And some day we will all be one big happy family.”

  I stand back and stare at him in surprise.

  Family?

  It’s looking like both Darren and Viktor are busy planning my future before I claw my way out of my past.

  Was I ready to move on?

  Bradley never called again.

  I was forgotten like yesterday’s breakfast.

  I will move on, I must.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Now what?

  BRADLEY

  Monday, February 14
th

  Manny’s gone to Curaçao so I'm sprawled out on his king size bed. I haven't been this comfortable in weeks and I'm wide awake. I feel like Sylvester the cat after he's been conked on the head. Three ladies circle my head: Naomi, Luba, Natalia. Round and round till I'm dizzy and nauseous. I'm on a ride called ‘The Merry-Go-around Of Mistakes’ and I need to get off. But how?

  My heart’s racing, I'm sweating, and I feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest. Maybe I'm having a heart attack, I think, that would get me out of this mess. I imagine them all around my grave: Naomi maybe crying, maybe not. Still pissed at me? Nah. You can't be mad at the dead guy. Luba would be chain smoking, probably tossing the butts into my grave, scanning the crowd for someone to take her out clubbing afterward. Natalia? She's the wild card. I really don't remember how we ended up in bed in the first place. I'm not even sure we had sex. Viktor would definitely be sad. We've been friends for a long time. Although if he found out about Natalia and me…who knows? I doubt she'll say anything to him; it’s kind of an awkward conversation to have with your brother.

  As I lay there on Manny's pillow-topped mattress, sun rising through his east-facing windows, my heart slows and I stop sweating. The merry go round pauses and one face remains in my vision: Naomi. I think of her long silky blonde hair and her luscious body that fit against mine like a puzzle piece and I realize that she was the solution to my puzzle. I spent my whole life feeling like the only love I'd ever have was one I paid for and here was this amazing woman asking nothing from me. Why did I have to keep pushing marriage? I should have just been with her and let things happen naturally. Too late now, Dobrov, I think and my heart sinks deep. Then I hear the ping of a text. Could it be? I leap up and race for my phone. Damn. Luba.

  Darling, I know you won't mind. Invited Natalia to come with tonight. Is HUGE party. Could be more fun with three, no? ;)

  Oh no, not Natalia AND the winky face. The heart attack option is looking more and more inviting. My screen lights up a few more times with suggestive emojis. If I don't answer she'll be at it all day. I tap the screen: Sure. There. No commitment, no emotion. This is fixable. I'll hang with the girls tonight--maybe Viktor will show up with his new mystery girl, KuKu. Frankly, she sounds like a nut job. Some kind of hippie girl-woman. Oh hell, we’ll drink our faces off and I'll just slip out when the girls aren't looking.

  No more models or best friend’s sisters. It's Naomi or no one. Starting tomorrow, I have one mission: make Naomi mine.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Russian roulette

  NAOMI

  Monday, February 14th

  Viktor the clotheshorse. The master of dressing a woman with a gifted eye for what works. He should be a stylist for the stars. I love everything he’s done to me.

  Rather enjoyable being dressed by a man. The lingering fingers, the accidental brushing against my breasts, the warm hand down my back, the hot breath against my neck as he hooks the many necklaces. It’s a dance, a seduction, a taste of foreplay and he has me panting. He senses my arousal and he grins.

  “Soon KuKu, soon.”

  He spins me around and I stand back and look in the mirror. If the old Naomi was too bland, too pale, then this Naomi is her polar opposite. I’m radiant. Red high heels, all strappy and sexy, bare legs up to a revealing chiffon, pleated dress, shorter by a good ten inches in the front, made to flow above my knees like a temptation. A voluminous and flowing material, but thin enough to display my figure underneath, and bright red, the color of life and love. It’s held up by two spaghetti straps, and offers a low round neck that flashes glimpses of the top of my breasts.

  Viktor decorates my neck, arms, and fingers with heavy jewelry, twists my long, black hair loose around my shoulders, and sprays me with some sexual perfume. No detail is missed.

  How will I ever get dressed again without Viktor beside me?

  “I love it Viktor, everything. You are a master.”

  “You are the perfect woman to wear such a garment. You are divine KuKu. All of my friends will burn with jealousy. When I tell them tonight is the night that I will have you, they will all envy me.”

  I frown. Was that why he wants me, dresses me this way, to flaunt me in front of his Russian friends? Is he using me as much as I am using him?

  It hurts.

  He notices my change of mood. Viktor notices everything.

  “Naomi,” he says, surprising me by using my real name.

  I look up at him and he sighs. He runs his finger under my chin and lifts my face up to his.

  “I know what you are thinking. That came out wrong. I do this because I want to please you. I care about you sweetheart, very much. Believe me KuKu, you are the one for me. I want you for tonight, tomorrow, and all the other nights to come. My blood runs hot for you, I cannot think about a future without you Naomi.”

  He looks sincere. So did Bradley just days before dumping me.

  I want to believe Viktor.

  He makes me happy.

  I want to be happy again.

  “But your job in a few months, you’ll be leaving.”

  “I’ll get out of it, this acting,” he spits, “I don’t need it. My family owns a large distillery, many liquor companies; I have money to burn KuKu. I only work because I am bored and to make friends. I have you now. I don’t need anything else.”

  I smile at him. I look into his beautiful blue eyes, so rich like the Baltic Sea. I reach up and brush a piece of dark hair off his forehead, and grin.

  “I really like you too Viktor. Please don’t hurt me.”

  “I won’t. And you. Promise you won’t go back to that asshat you were with, or date your boss. Give yourself to me in every way Naomi.”

  What had I promised myself? Next time I’ll be smarter, choose more wisely, not let my heart rule my head. I want a companion, a friend, a man to enjoy life with, and my heart be damned.

  “Yes.”

  “Did you say yes?”

  “I did. Why, you want to take it back?”

  “Hell no.”

  He doesn’t get down on one knee, perhaps too American. He stands tall and strong in front of me, reaches into his pocket and pulls out a large diamond ring.

  “Then, be my bride Naomi, wear my grandmother’s ring.”

  “Bride?” I hiss, confused. I thought he was talking about being lovers.

  Before I can think, he slides the substantial diamond on my finger and pulls me tightly against him.

  Breathing into my hair Viktor whispers, “You are mine now KuKu; no man must ever touch you again, no one but me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Gimme five

  BRADLEY

  Monday, February 14th

  Manny's about half my height so borrowing from his extensive closet isn't an option. Once again I regret leaving Naomi's without my bags. Knowing her, she probably handed them to the first homeless guy she could find. I borrowed a couple of things from Viktor last week. We are exactly the same size and build so that's lucky. Not Manny lucky, but still. I feel kind of weird doing it, but I'm still pretty broke, so I sort through the closet of the dude who actually owns this place. I find a decent white shirt, try it on. It fits, so I continue my safari. Past the khaki vests with a hundred pockets, past the camo pants with a hundred more pockets, I strike gold: an Armani tux. It still has the tags on it and I wonder if he bought it anticipating some big award or honor that never came.

  It fits like it was made for me so I cut the tags and get dressed. A little product in the hair, a little moisturizer in the beard, and I'm good to go. Back in Manny's room I spy a small bottle of some Italian cologne. It smells like oranges and leather. Can't hurt, I think, and pat a little on the back of my neck. I won't be able to impress Naomi tonight, but at least I won't stink up the dance floor. As her name crosses my mind, I smile. I will get her back. I've never been more sure of anything in my life.

  I ring the outside bell of the girls’ condo. Luba answers the door, nake
d, hands me her cigarette, walks back into her room. Piles of dresses and shoes litter the floor. Natalia materializes from the bathroom in a white towel, slick black hair the exact color of Viktor's, slithering across her shoulders. I shudder. If I had only known. I feel like I slept (or whatever we did) with my own sister. She beams at me.

  “Hi you!” She practically prances over to me, and I'm reminded of those little dancing ponies they used to have at Russian Folk festivals. “I'm REALLY excited to go to Anastasia. I've only heard about.” She throws her arms around my neck.

  What if she's not even legal? I wonder, frozen where I stand, unable to return the hug.

  She drops her arms, steps back. “What's wrong with you?” She demands, hands on hips now. “It's like hugging a tree.”

  Luba pops her head out. “Who is hugging Bradchka’s tree? No touching his branches without me.” She smiles like a wolf eyeing up some tasty rabbit, licks her lips, then pops back into her cave. From inside she calls out. “Tali, you naughty girl. Remember we wait till after big party to climb our Bradchka tree, ha ha.”

  Natalia blushes crimson, looks down, whispers, “I n-never agreed to anything like, th-that.” I realize she's crying. Poor kid. I am the worst person on earth. I put an arm around her in what I hope will feel more brotherly. But. Then, she says, “I mean, we haven't even had sex just you and me yet.” Sunshine breaks through clouds. Angel choirs sing. Russia wins the World Cup. I didn't dirty up my best friend’s sister and I never will. It's just a crush; she'll get over it. I give her one last little squeeze and head to the kitchen to pour myself a vodka. It's time to celebrate.

  The Uber ride out to Brighton is exhausting. On one side of me, Natalia keeps burrowing into my arm and looking at me with moony eyes. On the other side, Luba the gorgeous red headed octopus can't keep her tentacles to herself. I need to occupy them, so I ask the driver if we can smoke. Four open windows and the freezing February air pouring in but at least I get a rest from swatting her hands from my crotch.