by Tia Siren
''They were sent to me by an old woman called Petrova Abdulova. I also have the letter she wrote at the time.'' Slava placed a bag on Igor's desk. ''All the things you need are inside the bag. I know you will do me proud, Igor. Thank you for your friendship over the years, and I do hope our paths will cross a bit more often that they have in the last couple of years.''
''Let's chat about old times this evening. I'll pick you up at your hotel at seven.''
*****
''Octavia, oh Octavia'' her mother cried as the bullet proof limousine, dropped her outside the White House. ''What have you been up to, we were worried sick about you. Promise me never to run away like that again.''
Octavia didn't say anything. She looked at her mother, the First Lady. A woman of average height and above average looks. A brunette, not a hair out of place, she had married Octavia's father when she was just nineteen. She was more popular than her husband among the public, because she was always on TV raising funds for children. ''Your father has canceled all his appointments this afternoon. We're going to sit down and have a nice chat.''
Octavia hoped the 'nice chat' didn't turn into a monolog lecture. She went up to their apartment and into her room. It was predominately white and full of cuddly toys that well-wishers had sent her at various points during her life. The journey from London had tired her, and she undressed, had a shower and slipped under the sheets. She woke when her mother called her at around three pm.
''Octavia,'' her father exclaimed. ''It so lovely to see you. Come here.'' He took his daughter in his arms and hugged her. She was surprised how warm he was towards her. They were in the sitting room in the Presidential Suit in the White House. It wasn't a large room; it was cozy. There was a large round window in one wall, and double doors in the other wall leading to the rest of the suit. There were two sofas, opposite each other and a glass table between them. Octavia's father sat next to her mother with Octavia opposite them.
''Your mother and I are so happy that you are having a baby. We're really proud of you, and we want to tell you we will give you all the support you need throughout your pregnancy. If you think Slava will be a good father, and you love him, we will support both of you equally.'' He looked at his wife who nodded in agreement. ''Where we do have a concern, is with you traveling around unprotected.''
''Mum, Dad,'' Octavia began. ''I hate Harvard and law. I want to be a writer. I want it so much I was prepared to run away from you. Slava and I have found a way to make our dreams happen. He wants to sail, and I want to write. That's what we'll do. Live on his boat and follow our dreams.''
''Alright, if that's what you want. What about your baby. He or she will have to go to school one day,'' the President asked.
''Of course, and we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, we have our plan, and we're going to follow it.''
''Okay then. Now we understand what you want we can support you. Why didn't you tell us you were so unhappy at Harvard?'' her mother asked.
''Because I was worried what you would think. I could see the headlines. President's daughter drops out.''
''Leave the press to me. When I'm finished with them, they won't dare to mention you anymore,'' her father said.
*****
As he was about to leave for the airport, Slava's phone bleeped. It was an Email. He opened it and read:
Hi Slava, please find attached the first in the series of articles. I hope you like it.
Igor.
Slava clicked on the attachment and began to read.
St Petersberg 2015
Night of Knives - The First In A Series of Articles About The Unsolved Murder of A Woman.
She was a woman in her forties. A woman to whom life had not been at all kind. Neighbors remember her as being slight and extremely pretty. What stood out most, though, to those that are able to recall her, was her kindness. She was willing to help anybody and regularly looked after some of the older women in the street. The street where she lived was a just like most of the other residential streets in St Petersberg, apartment buildings, and play areas. It was a close-knit neighborhood, where people knew each other and took an interest in each other.
You could be forgiven for thinking that the woman in question worked in a local factory or shop, but you would be wrong. Illona Kuklov was a prostitute. On the night of thirteen January 1985, it was bitterly cold, and she had just let her last client of the day out of her apartment. Somewhere around ten pm, there was a scream. It was a scream that makes those I have interviewed about the incident, still have sleepless nights.
When neighbors rushed to her apartment, they found Illona struggling for breath in a pool of her own blood. She had been repeatedly stabbed, and the weapon was still poking from her chest. Illona's murder has remained unsolved ever since, but it shouldn't have. There is more than enough evidence to bring the murderer to trail. Several witnesses, a murder weapon, and a shirt are all pieces of vital evidence that have been ignored by investigators.
This newspaper has uncovered the truth about this gruesome murder, and we are able to reveal exclusively, that the chief suspect in the murder is Stanislv Kuklov, Illona's son. He is better known today as the Russian Ambassador to the United States of America.
Follow each day this week as we exclusively reveal how this man has avoided arrest for so many years and what can now be done to bring him to trial.
Slava shut his phone and smiled to himself as his plane took off towards New York.
*****
''But how do I hold her,'' Slav said as he looked at the tiny bundle in his arms.
''Oh I can see you've got a lot to learn,'' Octavia said as she walked up the gangplank on Serene. ''Bottle feeding and diaper changes, you can learn the lot.''
''Octavia. Come here please,'' he said. As he put his arm around her, he kissed her. ''You have made me so a happy, I can't tell you. She is so beautiful. I'm afraid I will never be able to give her away to another man like your father did on our wedding day.''
''You will if he's as good a man as you,'' Octavia said.
*****
Later that day Slava received a text message from Igor.
''Judge says he's an animal. Gave him thirty-five years.''
*****
THE END
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“Lela, why aren’t you taking this more seriously?!” Liddy was already working on her makeup for the show, and I had barely decided if I was going to go.
“It’s just a concert, with a bunch of loud girls screaming. I’m pretty sure that wearing a slutty skirt and layers of makeup won’t help me enjoy the concert more.”
I still slipped into the skirt, though. I thought I looked good in it, and I think Liddy felt the same way.
“That look is perfect for you. I wish I had your model figure.”
I gave her a sheepish look. More people have told me that I’m lucky for my figure, but just as many people have told me to eat more. I think I eat too much, honestly.
“Thanks,” I replied, “why are you tryin’ so hard to look good for this, I’ve never seen you work so hard before a concert.”
She gave me a half smile and a wink.
“I may have a little surprise for after the show.”
I rolled my eyes, the last time she said she had a surprise I was stuck driving her while she had awkward sex in the backseat.
“I hope this time your underwear stays on,” I said.
“Trust me, this time, neither of us will be wearing anything afterward.”
&
nbsp; She bit her lip.
I didn’t talk much after that, but the ideas I had about what she wanted to do after the show were mortifying. She was the kind of person that was interested in driving to Mexico at two in the morning.
It really didn’t take long for me to get ready, and soon enough we were in a cab with three of our other friends headed toward the show.
‘The Sell-outs’ were the newest and most popular rock band, and their tickets sold out in minutes. I was actually surprised that Liddy managed to get tickets.
Even more surprising is how good the seats were, not that anyone ever really sat in their seats at these concerts. I figured that would be best explained later.
When they began the entire audience lit up, screaming and dancing, some even began to sing along off-key. I didn’t mind, though, I just enjoyed the music and danced along.
The four members of the band played so hard that they started taking their shirts off part way through the show. And, when the lead singer Aiden threw his shirt to the crowd, I thought there would be a riot.
For some reason it felt like he made eye contact with me a few times, perhaps it was how close we were seated towards the stage, or it might even be that Liddy felt the need to flash the singer a few times. But, to me, it felt like a moment, and before too long the concert was over and the moment had passed. I could already feel sick thinking about the hangover I would probably have tomorrow morning.
However, as everyone filed out of the stadium, Liddy grabbed me by the arm. She gave me a wink, and with that, I could tell that this night might only be getting started. Pushing past the exiting crowd, we found ourselves standing in front of two of the beefiest men I’d ever seen in person.
“Passes?”
The larger one asked. Liddy reached into her small handbag and held out two ID badges, and after a quick look, the guard ushered us toward backstage.
I’d never been backstage at a concert before, and the suspense was getting to me. My hands were starting to sweat, and I could feel myself getting a little dizzy when I looked around. But, Liddy kept pulling me along on this ride, and I just followed.
Walking through busy corridors and hallways, even a staircase or two, Liddy kept flashing her badges and would be met with people pointing one direction or another. Before long we had found the holy-grail, the coveted green room where the band was enjoying some much-needed refreshment.
2.
It wasn’t a terribly large room, but it was large enough for the band and a few other girls to wander around. Along the far side sat a table, covered in drinks and food. A couple of couches and chairs occupied the center of the room where the band sat, as well as most of their female company. The longest wall had a large balcony stretching out towards the stadium field. A few roadies, drinks in hand, were chatting with a couple of the other girls on the balcony.
Liddy shot from my grasp as soon as she made contact. This was her element; she always was a bit of an attention hog. I never minded at all. I wasn’t interested in being stared at by a bunch of gawkers, but she was a professional.
“Lela, get over here!”
She waved at me, attempting to bring me in closer but I just waved her off and made for the table in the back. All that dancing had me feeling relaxed but too drained. I could already tell that my muscles would be regretting my workout from tonight.
I put together a small plate of snacks, as well as some water, and sauntered off to the balcony. It was quite a nice night actually; the cool air off the water staunched the summer heat.
As I stood, leaning against the railing, it became a bit lonely as the couples filtered back inside, leaving me to my thoughts.
I couldn’t help but feel like I was wasting the gift from my friend. She probably worked hard to get these passes, and here I was just leaning against a railing eating meager snack foods. I peeked on Liddy; she was laughing and chatting with the lead singer.
I had to admit, I did think Aiden was gorgeous. His long blond hair was tied back behind his head, and it showed off his sharp, and high, cheek bones. Being a rock singer, he definitely took care of himself, and while he was quite skinny, it looked like he still enjoyed his time at the gym.
He was out of my league; he was only really paying attention to the fairer skinned girls at the party, so I could tell right away that his eye wouldn’t stray too far my direction.
Still, as imaginative as I was, I tried my best to tamp down any thoughts of Aiden coming my way. Besides, Liddy was more interested anyway, it would probably be best that she is given the opportunity of a lifetime.
“Excuse me, is this balcony taken?”
The voice sounded familiar, I turned my neck and saw him standing there, long hair and all.
“Err… um … no. It’s open to everyone,” I squeaked out.
I turned back to my empty plate of snacks, but now I couldn’t remember what I had just been thinking about.
“Lovely night,” he said.
I nodded, trying to hide my excitement.
“You’re missing out on the party, were you planning on staying out here all night?”
I nodded again.
“You certainly are a woman of few words,” he laughed.
I smiled and giggled to myself a bit.
“Well, that’s quite a nice smile.”
I was happy for the compliment, as much as he was happy to have given it.
“Since this doesn’t seem like your kind of party, I doubt you came here alone, who dragged you here?”
I turned and pointed at my friend Liddy, who was chatting up their bassist at this point. I was quite surprised that none of the other girls were trampling the balcony, hoping for another minute or two with Aiden.
“She seems nice. Bit of a talker, though.”
I giggled again. He was right. She had quite a mouth on her.
“Why didn’t anyone follow you out,” I asked meekly.
Aiden let out a surprised expression, as though he’d just seen lead turn to gold.
“So you can speak!”
He laughed, almost as much as I did.
“To answer that question, how many people in that room do you think would follow me out here right now?”
I turned and counted, there must’ve been about fifteen girls in there ready to swoon all night.
“Looks like fifteen?”
“Sounds about right; how many of them look available enough to chat on this balcony.”
I looked again, and after examining, I saw that most of them were already talking to other band members or strong looking roadies. Except maybe one or two that just sat chatting with each other about who knows what.
“Maybe two of them would come out?” I asked.
“This happens after nearly every concert. I’m not really interested in groupies, they get boring. Sex is great and all, but it feels like I’m exploiting my fans. I just get a dirty feeling after it’s all over, so I just don’t sleep with them. I respect my fans too much to exploit them as bad as my record label does.”
“So you just told them all you weren’t interested, and they backed off? That doesn’t sound like Liddy at all.”
“Ah, Liddy is your friends name,” he said. “She was the hardest pressed to get close to me tonight. She told me she knew the manager, which was strike one right there. Anyone that knows our manager knows what a total creep he is. He’d have to sleep with all the girls in that room before he’d even think of giving any of them a backstage pass.”
That explained quite a lot in my mind, Liddy didn’t mind using herself to get what she wanted, and I suppose this was no different.
“So how did you get yours,” he asked.
“Liddy had two, so she gave me one. We’ve been best friends since 2nd grade, so she didn’t even have a second thought about whom to give it to.”
“She got two from that scumbag manager? She must’ve done some pretty crazy things to get a second one.”
I giggled, but I also felt a littl
e sad about how badly she must’ve wanted to get a second pass, and here I was wasting it on this balcony. But, I couldn’t help but wonder what she did to get it.
“Okay, I need to change the subject. Thinking about Greg sleeping with anyone is killing my brain.”
I giggled.
“What do you do when you’re not performing,” I asked.
“Oh, that,” he said, flashing me a big smile, “I like a lot of things. But, the thing I like to do most is photography. It’s really convenient for me since I can take my camera with me anywhere, and I get to visit some places that most people only dream of.”
He looked really excited.
“I suppose you probably knew that from the fan club website, though.”
I shook my head no.
“Back to not talking again, eh?”
“Sorry, I don’t really talk to a lot of new people, let alone rock stars. You’re a bit out of my league.”
He laughed at the thought.
“You think you feel overwhelmed by me? I’m just amazed that 20,000 people want to show up and listen to me play, that’s overwhelming. I’m not out of your league. If anything, I’m in just the right place.”
“No way, I’m sure you’ve been hit by the celebrity bug. Haven’t you met some other people that you admire and felt awestruck? Don’t say it never happened.”
He bellowed a laugh. But, his moment of silence that followed let me know that I was right.
“I’ve been bitten by the bug, alright. You don’t grow up in the middle of nowhere expecting to meet your inspiration. I must admit that I melted a bit when I met Robert Plant and James Hetfield.”
I gasped at the name dropping; those were a couple of my celebrity crushes as well, although they were still a bit too old for me to consider anything dirty.
“So, if you were to go out for a walk with them now, would they still be out of your league? You’re probably just as famous.”
He thought about it for a second before he answered.
