by David Skato
“I’m really happy to see you.” She said with her beautiful voice. She cut her eyes at the guards, who were now the only other people in the room. She then looks back at Dontae’.
“So, what’d you think of the show?” she asked in a way to let the guards know this was general conversation.
There was something familiar about her, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He knew that it wasn’t because he had seen her on TV. There was something else.
“It was amazing.” He replied, not knowing what to say.
Rochelle kept looking towards the door as people continued to weave in and out. She would then seem to snap back into the conversation with a fake smile. He knows this is his chance, and he knows what Calvin said, but the situation had changed. The cards on the table were different. He needed answers, and killing her now wouldn’t allow that to happen.
“How do you know my name?” He asks, catching her off guard.
She stammers, cutting her eyes trying to find an answer. “It’s on your pass.”
He turns his pass around, revealing no name.
She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.
“You there?” he snaps her out of it.
“Yes. Sorry. Long night.” She gave him the most apologetic look.
“I can only imagine what your life is like.”
“Hell.” She answered honestly.
“What?” he asks naively, trying to instill trust. “You called me by my name. I want to know how is that possible.”
“Just a guess” she shrugged as if it was no big deal while looking at her security detail, who’s now looking in their direction.
“Ok. I see.” He knew that this line of questioning was not going anywhere. He looks around to see if anyone is close enough to hear him before deeply looking into her eyes. “If you are in some kind of trouble, I can help.” He whispers.
“No one can help me,” She states, looking down while fidgeting with a bag of makeup. She looks up at him. “There’s something you don’t know about this business.”
“and that is?” he asks, trying to dig deeper.
“I just want to go home,” She deflects the conversation.
“Why don’t you just quit? Pack your shit and tell them you’re done.”
“One more day.”
“What does that mean? What’s one more day? You have to talk to me.” He said, growing frustrated with her half-answers.
“I’m sorry,” She whispers.
“Why did you fake your death?” Dontae knew he was treading on dangerous territory. She starts to move a bit slower, her face loses its color, and she goes quiet.
“You okay?” He asks, trying to look into her eyes, which were now closed.
“I'm fine.” Still whispering but now quieter, she grabs his hand. “Meet me at 6 pm tomorrow at The St. Regis Atlanta room 1306. I’ll explain everything then.”
At that moment, an older white woman explodes into the room. Her red pantsuit shined bright, projecting pure power. Her steps were clunky and hard and echoed almost as big as her attitude. Almost. Her thick black hair was pulled back in a severe bun, and her cold dark eyes were dead set on Rochelle. Dontae only needed one guess as to who she was.
Ω
Salvita Mikhailov stood in the cold at Leningradskiy Railway Station, her arms freezing as she rubs them, trying to create heat from friction. Her large coat was left in the closet during her haste to remove herself from “today’s confrontation,” leaving her with a thin sleeve shirt her mother had brought for her birthday. She had become accustomed to the constant squabbles between her and Sarkis. This was their tenth anniversary, and he had started the day with his usual breakfast; Vodka with a side of punching her in the face. She had planned to leave after the next beating by preparing a train ticket from Moscow to Latvia, where an ex she had been communicating with lived. He had told her that she deserved better, and she didn’t have to take the shit from that asshole. Salvita wanted a traditional family, but Sarkis changed his mind after they were married. He didn’t want kids, and soon after he lost his job, his drinking became uncontrollable. Her mom always warned her. “Он убьет тебя, если ты не уйдешь!” She would say.
Salvita vowed to stick it out, and she did. For ten long years, she took care of him and the household, but it was too much. She was broken. She’d run across Sergei in a market while she was visiting family in Riga. Immediately she recognized him. Even though he had grown an impressive beard, she couldn’t forget that smile. She couldn’t remember precisely why they had broken up, but she was sure it was her fault. She was so wild and crazy, and she didn’t take life very seriously when they were dating. That day at the market, he had flirted with her, and she gave him the number to her office. For weeks they talked, and she found out that he was single and focused on his career. She told him about Sarkis and the abuse and how she wanted a way out. As their conversations grew more intense and sexual, she decided that he was the one that could make all of her dreams come true. Besides, if he can make her feel good just talking during work hours, imagine how good she will feel next to him for a lifetime. Her husband controlled the bank account and knew exactly how much her salary was, so it was very difficult to hide money. Sergei never offered to buy the ticket, but she didn’t mind. Most likely, he didn’t want to make her feel pressured. Either way, she devised a plan. She started buying regular household items and returning them for a refund. She would then put that money in a secret account with the statements going to an email that he didn’t know about. Today was the day. She finally drove up enough nerve to leave. She had enough money to last a few days, and she knew that Sergei would take care of her until she could get on her feet. During the entire train ride, she dreamed of how it would be. She was older but not too old to have children, and they both wanted them.
The train pulled into the station at about midnight. She tried to reach Sergei, but his phone went directly to voicemail. She didn’t take a second thought knowing it was late, and even though he knew what time the train was scheduled to arrive, she thought maybe he had fallen asleep. She hailed a taxi and started her trip just outside of the city where his house was located. She had memorized the address because she didn’t want to take the chance of having it written or even on her phone. Upon arrival, she noticed that the house was dark, but two cars were parked in the driveway, which was a good sign he was home. Her boots slushed in the snow as she approached the house with no bags, no coat, and no turning back. She knocked twice. Shortly, light from an upstairs bedroom illuminated, and she could hear footsteps coming down the stairs. Now freezing, she rubbed her hands, blowing them, trying to get some warmth from her breath. The door opened, and a small old man stood looking at her with sheer confusion.
“Yes?” The man spoke with a soothing grandpa voice.
Salvita was now a bit confused but still not worried. “Hi, I’m here for Sergei.” She said with a gentle smile.
“I’m sorry, my name is Raivis.”
“Is Sergei here?” She asked, trying to look around the man and into the house. She was now more confused than ever, but she expected her love to come running down the stairs any second.
“Madam, this is my house. Just me and my wife. We don’t know anyone named Sergei.”
Salvita’s body went limp as it wobbled back then forth, close to passing out. The memories came rushing in. The calls during business hours. The sweet talk and promises. The relationship. She remembered why they ended it, better yet, why he did. She stole money from him that was to be used for his graduate degree. She stole it and ran off with Sarkis! “Oh my god.” She thought. She was remorseful at the person she was, but she knew she had changed. That moment she realized that Sergei was never interested in her. He was interested in revenge. Yes, what she did was wrong, but that was over ten years ago. She guessed that for some, heart wounds don’t heal.
She turns and runs into the woods, ignoring the calls of the old man to come back.
She heard him, but at the same time, she didn’t. Tears dropped down her cheek, freezing before they could strike the ground. She didn’t know where she was going, nor did she care. She stomped through several inches of snow until she couldn’t take another step. She collapsed face-first into the deep icy wasteland. She managed to roll over to her back as the cold winter air filled her lungs. She looked up at the sky and admired the beauty of it all. “The stars shine even as I go to hell,” she thought.
Salvita was too frozen to move, but she could hear footsteps in the distance. She probably couldn’t scream for help if she wanted to, which she didn’t. She wanted to die. She could have waited until Sarkis killed her or until she got hit by a bus or something, but this way, she would die on her terms. “At least here, the view is nicer.” She thought as the moonlight twinkled in her eyes. The steps got closer as her eyes closed on the marvelous sight of the milky way, the feel of the brisk cold on her face, and the sound of a light wind blowing in the frozen trees. She wasn’t cold any longer. Her eyes closed, and she was in total darkness. She was at peace. In the darkness, she was completely conscious. “So this is death?” She thought to herself. But was it? She knew she wasn’t dead because she could still hear the footsteps approaching. “Salvita.” The strong voice of a man echoed through the dark.
“What is this?” She said, echoing also. Was she in her head? She felt that way as she continued to ask questions. “Who are you?”
“My name is Crimson.”
“What do you want with me?”
“What do you want with yourself?” The man asked.
“I just want to die in peace.”
“Are you sure about that? Wouldn’t it be better to get revenge?”
“It’s too late for that. I’m dying.”
“I can save you.”
“How?”
“Just say you want to be saved. That’s all.”
“I don’t know.”
“Ok, very well. Can I tell you one thing before I go?” The man asks.
“what’s that?”
“Sergei is at home with his wife and kids reading bedtime stories as we speak. They are all cozy under the fire while you die here in the cold all alone.”
She didn’t know if this was true, but it hurt all the same. “I don’t care.” She cried.
The voice now grew more agitated and devil-like. ‘You should care! They are all laughing at you! Your husband is currently fucking a prostitute in your bed while you lay here feeling sorry for yourself! No one cares about you! Why do you let them get away with this!? I’m offering you a chance!”
“It’s too late!” She screamed.
The voice calmed down. “No. I can save you. Promise that you will reign with me for eternity, and you will have your chance at revenge.”
Salvita whimpers. She could feel herself going deeper and deeper into the darkness. It was kind of a feeling of falling but standing at the same time. With overwhelming sadness, empty hopelessness, and insurmountable rage, she whispers. “I promise.”
The voice let out a vicious laugh, followed by a gruesome face heading towards Salvita at light speed. She screams! Everything goes quiet.
A much older Salvita was now in America and in charge of the biggest talent in the world. She was a long way from dying in the snow and now only a few steps from Rochelle’s vanity.
“Fuck”. Rochelle muddled, covering her eyes as if that would make the current situation disappear.
“What the hell is this? You having a little date? What did I tell you about fraternizing with the locals? Get up!” The woman scolded her like she was a teenager caught kissing a boy. Grabbing Rochelle’s petite arm, she snatches her out of the seat rattling the table and all its contents in the process. Dontae’ quickly stands, preparing for confrontation, causing the guards to step in.
“Hey!” Dontae’ held his ground.
“Sit down!” The woman yelled, pointing at his seat as if he was that teenage boy. “Leave her alone. It’s best for the both of you.” Salvita threatened.
“Rochelle, you don’t have to stand there and take that.”
“Get him out of here,” Salvita demanded
The taller guard steps closer, placing his hand on Dontae’s shoulder.
“It’s cool. I’m just talking.” Dontae’ stated, in submission.
“Dontae’ it’s okay. Just go. I’ll be fine. Just go.” Rochelle said, not wanting Dontae to get hurt on her behalf. Even if he managed to fend off these two guards, there were more, and he knew he couldn’t beat them all. This wasn’t the time or place to blow his cover.
“You sure?” He asked with one last head tilt.
She nods, and he walks out of the room.
“What the fuck just happened.” He thought as he walks down the smokey hall in a daze. “She knew me.” He didn’t know if he should be scared that she would blow his cover, confused about how she knew him, or just numb because this was too much to take in at once.
The outside of the stadium was empty except for a few stragglers possibly waiting to see if Rochelle would come out and give them autographs. As he walked to the car, he could hear a little girl crying hysterically while trying desperately to get away from her mother as the woman spoke in Spanish, trying to calm her.
“no se que te ha pasado.” The woman screamed.
“Quiero a mi mami.” The little girl cried.
“Yo soy tu mama ¿Estás jodidamente loco?” The woman shouted, dragging the girl by the arm.
Dontae’ didn’t know Spanish but noticing two car seats in the back of a newer model minivan, the stroller with another baby, and the husband rubbing his forehead in frustration, Dontae’ deduced that this wasn’t a child trafficking situation and continued to his car.
Ω
The city was bustling with people, and Dontae’ was just another face in the crowd. He had picked up a pair of sunglasses along with some of Jessi’s father’s finest suits from his closet. He figured they would come in handy if he needed to look the part of a man that could afford a room in the luxurious hotel. The landscaping was unique, with little diamonds cut into the hedges lining the front round-a-bout leading to the entrance. The fountain dripped steadily and could be seen as the centerpiece of the place. The smell of steak steamed from the restaurant next door as it filled the air with the scent of rich people’s eating habits. A red Bentley with red rims was parked just right of the entrance signifying that the owner either wanted to protect it, was too lazy to walk from the standard parking lot, or wanted to show his wealth. Dontae’ figured all three. “What a dick.” He mumbles as he walks into the entrance.
The woman at the front counter was young and very attractive. He wonders what she was doing working there but only for a second. This was the kind of place that looked extremely classy and upscale, but underneath was a ticket to the underworld of expensive drugs, sex, and overall sick shit. Dontae’ spent time investigating a wealthy entrepreneur who had a thing for young girls and abusing women. His nickname was Cloak. Dontae’ never figured out why people called him that only the rumors surrounding the name in which one stated he would wear a white cloak and flap around the room as if he was flying. Fully naked underneath. This was the one Dontae’ stuck close to because he found it funny and wanted to make sure that this less of a man didn’t get any respect. Cloak would find sex trafficked girls and beat them during sex to the point that they would blackout. This was the sickest shit Dontae’ had ever come across. Cloak made the mistake of murdering one of the girls in one of his sex tirades bringing Dontae’ into the mix. With all the evidence in the world, the bastard got off. They claimed the defense that the girl didn’t exist. The same girl they had found the body of and plenty of pictures of her with Cloak. She was an undocumented immigrant from Mexico, so in the court's eyes, she was nothing. This beautiful young girl’s life was taken by this repulsive fat fucking son of a bitch, and he just laughed his way out of the courtroom. Dontae’ could remember that her mother showed
up to the trial, and the sound of the weep that she wept will never leave his thoughts. It’s hard to say if it was fortune or if Dontae’ was subconsciously following the guy, but he caught him red-handed in the middle of a sex act with an underage girl. Dontae’ beat the living shit out of him, putting the man in a coma. The man survived, and Dontae’ was never charged. The sick bastard was murdered in prison by an inmate that stated “God” told him to do it. Dontae’ knew it was wrong, but he had never wished death upon anyone more than he wished it on Cloak.
Dontae takes out the burner phone and dials while watching the woman.
“Hi, thanks for calling St. Regis Atlanta; how may I assist you?” she asks while clearly in his view.
“Hi, I would like to know if you have a pamphlet on the city of Atlanta.”
“We have quite a few. Are you looking for attractions, nightlife-“
“-I need one on libraries.” He said, being the oddest thing he could think of at the time.
“That, I’m not sure of. Give me a second and let me check.”
She places him on hold as he watches her go towards the back of the lobby. This was his chance. He rushes through the doors and to the elevator. He presses. “13”. He waits, and he notices the woman walking back to the desk. As the doors open, he can hear her saying, “Hello? Hello?” smirking knowing he had already hung up the phone.
The elevator doors open, and Dontae steps out to an almost empty hall. A woman walks with a cleaning cart before stopping at a room, opening the door, and entering. He continues down the hall to room “1306” and gently knocks. He didn’t know what to expect, being that Rochelle sent him here. She could have easily played him, and this could be a massive set up. “But she knew me,” was the thought that resonated in his mind over and over. If this were a setup, then this would be his last stand. He had his gun tucked and hidden, and he was ready for anything at this point. He waited a brief moment before he heard the latch unlock from the other side. The door opening on the sight of a smiling Rochelle calms him. He enters the room.
