by J. L. Drake
“Rick?” Karen said.
“Let’s talk in the kitchen. I need a beer.”
Dad popped a cold one and sat next to me at the table. In case there were any more concerns about the eating disorder scenario, I munched on a big slice of cold cheese pizza and chugged a Gatorade. I was hungry and needed to eat anyway to soak up all the vodka still swimming through my bloodstream. Karen fingered the heart-shaped Mom pendant on her necklace, anxious to find out how bad her hot-tempered husband had messed up.
“Seeing you come home from Vladimir’s over Christmas in your fragile condition, I had this crazy idea he had hurt you in some way.”
Karen gasped.
I covered my mouth to keep from spewing all over his face. I swallowed my drink. “Are you joking?”
He lowered his head, took a deep breath, and raised his hands. “I know, I know. Vladimir had the same reaction. I’m lucky he didn’t fire me or kick my ass or something.”
I felt bad for lying to him. He’d just won the Best Dad in the World Award in my eyes. Confronting Vladimir took guts. He laid his job and his personal safety on the line for me. Not to mention, his instincts were dead on. Way to go, Dad. I’m sorry you got saddled with such a horrible daughter.
Karen put her hand on his back while he collected himself. “Vladimir didn’t want to betray your confidence,” he went on, “but under the circumstances of me accusing him of, well, you know—”
“Oh, Rick.”
He sipped his beer. “He told me why you were such an emotional wreck and why you’ve been lying to us.”
“Dad—”
“Enough. I know all about your older boyfriend. I know you’ve been pretending to be at work all the time because you want to be with him and you didn’t think I would approve.”
“Dad—”
He held up his hand. “I also know that fucking European meathead was pressuring you to take your relationship to the next level, and your refusal caused a big argument right before Christmas. Vladimir said it broke his heart to see you so upset. He wanted to hunt down that loser himself and teach him a lesson.”
European meathead—Leonardo. “He told you that?” I covered my mouth with my hands.
“And Vladimir said you were afraid to come to me because you thought I’d be mad, so you sought his guidance. He said if I’d been a better father, then maybe you would’ve confided in me about your guy troubles rather than him.”
My heart was officially broken. “Oh, Dad. It’s not your fault.”
Dad leaned over and hugged me so tight I felt like I might crack. Karen got up to get a box of tissues. “I’m sorry I work all the time. My family needs me and I’m not here.”
“No, no. It’s my fault. I’m the one who lied. You’re the best dad ever.” My words came out a little slurry.
Dad pulled back. “Where were you tonight, Carter?”
Oh, shit. “I…I was at, ummm—”
“Have you been drinking?”
“Dad, just—”
“You were with that asshole again, weren’t you?” Dad stood up and dragged his hand through his hair.
“Just to give him his stuff back, I swear.”
“Why’s your hair wet? Did you sleep with him?” His chest heaved, his face burned red.
“Rick, calm down.” Karen stood next to him and put her arm around his waist.
“No. He smokes.” I lifted my lanyard and shook it at him. “I have a key to Kiki’s house. I went there to take a shower so I wouldn’t stink when I got home.”
Dad took a deep breath and held out his hands, trying to calm himself down. “Let me be clear, Carter. One, you are not to see him again. Two, if you lie to me again, you won’t leave this house outside of school. Three—” He hesitated, overcome with a rush of sadness.
“I get it, Dad. I’m sorry.”
“You’ve grown into a beautiful young woman. It kills me to see men staring at your body, objectifying you—”
“Dad, please.”
“Let him finish,” Karen said.
“Men will take advantage of your youth and vulnerability.” Dad put his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eye. “Don’t let them, sweetheart. Save yourself for someone special who deserves your love and affection.”
Tears dripped down my cheeks. Dad reeled me in for a hug. Karen joined in and rocked us side to side, kicking the parental awkwardness up a couple notches.
“You and Ryan are just friends?” Dad asked.
“Yeah.”
When our Blended Family Love Fest subsided, I ran upstairs and locked myself in my bedroom. I removed Vladimir’s wager from my pocket and unfolded it. The note said:
Anything for you, angel.
I wondered how he would react when he saw my winged forever heart. I clutched the note and pressed it against my chest with one hand, and placed the other on my belly to settle the bats.
Chapter 43
Weasel
After the vodka stopped talking the next day—and my hormones stopped raging—I had to figure out how to smooth over the fact I had straddled Vladimir and enthusiastically grinded my body all over him. Not to mention, I shoved my hand down his pants and touched it.
God, please tell me I didn’t suggest we go to his office instead of the bedroom. Wasn’t I the one who came up with the Purity Plan?
When I got into the car with Boris, he glared at me. “Everything okay at home?”
I nodded.
“Your papa is a brave man.”
I nodded again.
“I see your friend came back from Florida today. You’re spending the night with her?”
“Yep.”
He relaxed his shoulders. “We’re not going back to the house.”
“Why? Where are you taking me?”
“It’s a surprise. Text your friend and tell her you’re not coming.”
“Is this a sex thing?” I blurted out.
“What do you think, party girl?”
“No. Stop the car. Let me out, or I’ll jump.”
Boris clamped onto my arm and jammed his thumb into my bicep to get me under control. “You want to go to war with me again?”
“Please stop. No more bruises,” I whimpered.
Surprised by the desperation in my voice, he loosened his grip. “Enough with your bullshit. Take a sip of vodka and turn on the radio. You’ll be right back where you left off.”
I took a deep breath to calm myself down. “Last night was a mistake.”
“No more mulligans.”
“You poured me, like, four shots.”
“No one made you drink.”
I dropped my head in my hands and let the consequence of my actions settle in. “Are you going to kill me?”
Boris glared at me like he was offended by the notion. “Why would I do that?”
I ticked off my fingers as I listed my offenses. “Because you’re sick of dealing with me. I can’t do anything right. I make you mad every single day. I don’t listen. I tease boys. My singing in the car is insanely annoying. I can’t handle my alcohol. I get green tennis ball fuzz all over your seats. I come crawling to you every time I’m in trouble—which is a lot. Haven’t I burned through my nine lives yet?”
He acted stunned. “You think I—” He shook his head and didn’t finish.
“I know you’ve done it before. When you rolled up your sleeves, I saw your snaky chain tattoo. Each link represents someone you…whacked.”
“You found this out on the Internet?”
“You ink it, you own it,” I said.
Instead of being pissed, he chuckled. “You don’t know anything, stupid girl.”
I guess humping the boss was good for our relationship. Ugh. What a sick thought. “Please tell me where you’re taking me.”
“It’s nice. You’ll have good time.”
If Vladimir told him not to tell, that was the end of it.
Boris stopped at the gas station to fill up. Pushing my luck, I asked if I cou
ld go inside to grab some snacks for the road. He flipped me a hundred dollar bill and told me to get him a Coke. Subconsciously, I must have asked myself W.W.W.D.? What Would a Weasel Do?
I snagged some Corn Nuts, a sleeve of peanuts, an orange juice, a Coke, and a pack of condoms. At the checkout counter, the grandma-aged clerk raised her eyebrows when she scanned the dirty stuff. Her gaze drifted outside, and she sized up Boris pumping gas.
Her face blanched as she counted back change from a hundred. I wanted to say something snarky like, “Not unless he put a gun to my head,” but I kept my mouth shut, slid the condoms into my back pocket, and then marched back to the car.
When we got on the road, I sipped the OJ and ate my peanuts. Boris glanced in the rearview mirror and then veered off to the median. “What did you do?”
“Nothing.” I peeked behind and saw the blue lights of a police car flashing behind us. “I swear I have no idea.” I recognized the officer as she walked toward the Cadillac. “Oh shit, it’s Officer Montgomery.”
Boris slid on a pair of gloves and gave me the low-down on our agenda so we had our stories straight. “If I find out you pulled something—”
Officer Montgomery leaned in the car and smirked when she recognized me.
“Hello again, officer. What’s the problem?” I asked.
“May I see your license, sir?” Boris handed it to her.
She shook her head. “I would say I’m surprised to see you, but, sadly, I’m not. Out of the car, Miss Cook. You and I need to talk.” The officer walked me back to her cruiser and told me to get in the front seat. As she ran Boris’s license—which I assumed would show a spotless record—she took off her sunglasses. “Know why I pulled the car over?”
I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeggings. “No idea, ma’am.”
“Where are you going?”
I gave her a puzzled look. “He’s taking me to my cousin’s house. He bought us concert tickets for Christmas. Why?”
The officer scanned her screen. “Mr. Chuchin is your grandfather, right?”
I was sure Gramps was an upstanding citizen. “Yeah, by marriage. He’s my stepmom’s dad.”
“A concerned citizen called in worried about an older gentleman and a pretty young girl buying condoms at the gas station.”
I put my hands over my face and slid down in the seat. “Oh, my God. That old lady narked me out? Please don’t say anything to him. I’m begging you. He’ll die of embarrassment.”
She held her hand up to stop my rambling. “If there is anything you want to tell me, now is the time. I can help you. You’re safe with me. Is this man hurting you in any way?”
I shook my head. “I took to heart what you said the other day about alcohol and boys. I was trying to be prepared—just in case.”
“Let me go talk to your grandfather. You’ll need to get into the back until I can corroborate your story.”
I got out of the car and let her shut me into the back of the patrol car. Will Boris kill her if he thinks she’s busted us?
She leaned over and questioned the Russian mobster pretending to be my grandfather. I prayed for her. Boris reached into his coat pocket and pulled something out. The officer held out her hand and inspected what appeared to be a pair of concert tickets.
She smiled and tapped the tickets in her hand.
I exhaled. The officer came back to the car and released me from the backseat. “You are lucky to have such a sweet grandpa. Have a nice time.”
“Did you say anything to him about the you know whats?”
“No, I didn’t. You’re an adult. No crime has been committed.” She patted me on the back. “Make good choices, Carter, and stay out of trouble for a couple days.”
“Thanks.” I slunk back to the car, mentally preparing for the bullshit storm. We got back on the road. Boris didn’t talk. I didn’t either. The silence was terrifying.
Is he mad? Happy he didn’t have to shoot the cop? Is he mad?
I turned on my side and closed my eyes. He plucked the condom pack out of my back pocket, shoved me down in the seat, and bore down on my chest. The car swerved over the double yellow line, then back in the right lane. “You know what I would’ve done if she suspected anything?”
“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
He was pushing down on me so hard I thought I would snap. I gasped for air, and he let me go. I turned over and curled into a ball.
He rolled down the window and tossed the contraband in the median. “Get your rest, weasel. You’ll be up late tonight.”
Asking for another punishment in my own special way, I asked, “Will you warn me before you pull the trigger? I don’t want it to be a surprise.”
I thought he was ignoring me, but before I fell asleep he answered, “Da.”
Chapter 44
Swinging
Boris opened my car door and woke me up. As I blinked my eyes open, I saw an airplane. We were at a goddamn airport. “What the hell, man? I thought we were going to a concert. Where are you taking me?” My blabbering questions went unanswered.
Boris popped the trunk, lifted out a Louis Vuitton suitcase, and escorted me down the runway. I had to get my game face on. Like before a match, I cleared my mind of distractions and shut out everything except my Coach’s words of wisdom:
Come out strong. Make them play your game. Be aggressive. Even if you make a mistake, they’ll be afraid of what you’ll do next time. Go for high percentage shots, and keep the ball in play until you can put away a clean winner. And most important of all: Don’t back off if you’re losing. Make your opponent beat you. If you’re going down, go down swinging.
Boris ushered me to the airplane, and I clutched Vladimir’s wager inside my jacket pocket. As we stood at the bottom of the stairs, Boris put his big hands on my shoulders. “Don’t mess this up. I’m going back to the house now. You’re on your own, understand?”
I nodded.
“Good girl.” Before he handed me over, he issued a warning. “Do yourself a favor and don’t bring up alcohol—I mean it.” He patted my cheek and waited for the boss to collect me.
Vladimir padded down the stairs wearing a short-sleeved, blue silk shirt, casual pants, and leather loafers. It was about thirty degrees outside. He greeted me with kisses. “Let’s get you out of the cold.”
I was down, and it was time to start swinging.
***
As the plane headed south, Vladimir popped a bottle of champagne and poured two glasses of Cristal. He picked up my hand, kissed it, and wrapped my fingers around the champagne flute. “To you, my angel.” We clinked and sipped.
The plane cut through the clouds. Vladimir set down our drinks, swept my hair off my shoulders, and kissed my neck. He unzipped my jacket and tried to slide it off.
I held my arms at my sides not allowing him to undress me. I wondered how he would react when he saw my bruises. Did he even remember he had hurt me over the weekend?
“What’s wrong?”
Summoning all the courage I had left, I said, “Last night was a mistake. It was a blessing Dad came to the house when he did.”
The boss didn’t look happy. I could see the crazy bubbling up in his eyes so I spoke my mind quickly. “What I mean is, I want you. Your bod makes me hot.” I reached up and rested my hands around his neck and twisted one of his blonde waves around my finger. “No one has ever made me feel so—if we hadn’t been interrupted, I would’ve been yours.”
“We have tonight, beautiful. No interruptions.”
I lifted his hand up to my chest to feel my pounding heartbeat. “See what you do to me? I’ve never been with a man before.”
“I celebrate your choices.”
I slipped his wager out of my pocket and pressed it into his palm.
He unfolded the paper. “Ready to cash in your wager?”
“Can I talk to you about something?”
He led me to a seat by the window and sat me down on his lap. With the reflection of the s
ky behind him, his vibrant blue eyes glowed in the sunlight.
“If I’m being honest, I’ve thought about us…together.” I turned away, embarrassed.
He stroked my hair. “Really? I had no idea,” he teased.
I shoved him in the chest. “Surprise.” I laughed with him, and then I tried to get back to the point. “But I want my first time to be special.”
“Making love is an expression of our commitment to one another. Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll make sure it’s a night we’ll never forget.”
I knew he wanted me right then and there. I had to swing higher. “By special I mean I’m saving myself for my wedding night. I know I led you on last night. I’m sorry.”
“Just when I think I have you figured out, you blow my mind once again. Your future husband is the luckiest man in the world.”
Under his spell, and totally turned on, I wanted to take all my words back and pick up where we’d left off last night.
Vladimir peeled me off his lap, leaned over, and snagged the suitcase. “Let’s see if we can find something for you to wear this evening.” He turned it around so I couldn’t see. “Ah, this is perfect.” He revealed a sexy little red dress.
“Where are we going?”
“Dancing…in South Beach.”
“Ah, that’s sweet, boss.” I was honestly touched by his thoughtfulness.
Vladimir may have had his share of faults, but one thing about him was undeniable: he loved to make me happy. And at that moment, he was checking every box on my sexiest-man-alive score sheet.
When we arrived at the hotel, I took a solid hour and fifteen minutes to get ready for our hot date. Boris had packed everything I needed: a strapless bra, a clean ace bandage for my ankle, open-back pumps, and a long-sleeved shrug to cover up the thumb bruises on my collarbone, the hoof mark on my back, and the plethora of imprints up and down my arms.
When I emerged from the bathroom ready to rock it, Vladimir was waiting for me with a single red and pink rose in his hand. He had on slick black pants, Bally shoes, and a red shirt unbuttoned a few notches. His devil tat peeked at me from behind the fabric.
