Lev

by Belle Aurora

  Nas smiled sympathetically as she watched me avoid everyone else’s scrutinizing eyes. “Ready to get that blood pumping?”

  “Sure,” I sighed.

  I mean, really. How bad could it be?

  ***

  Lev

  “How’s she doing?”

  Nastasia smiled too widely, and it came across more like a grimace. “She’s only broken four glasses so far, so—” The sound of glass smashing followed by Mina’s “Ah, crap. Sorry!” sounded. My sister shook her head. “Five glasses in two hours. Is she trying to set some kind of record or some shit?”

  “She’ll get the hang of it.” I didn’t sound as confident as I hoped.

  I watched Mina closely as she listened to Anika. She was concentrating hard, nodding on occasion. I couldn’t understand why this was so hard for her. Her shoulders looked tight with tension.

  “Listen,” Nas broke into my thoughts. “I gotta tell you, Lev, telling Vik and Ani that you met Mina when she was stealing Sasha’s wallet…” She winced. “Ouch.”

  I was suddenly confused. “What?”

  My sister had always been patient with me, but tonight, she sighed. “It’s not cool, bro. You only get one chance to make a good impression, and before Mina had the chance to do that, you tore it out from under her feet.”

  “I don’t understand.” I really didn’t.

  Nastasia leveled me with a hard stare. “You introduced her to our closest friends as a thief.”

  Oh.

  I was beginning to comprehend what I’d done. “I see.”

  “No, you don’t.” Nastasia took my hand in her own and squeezed. “You’re a wonderful person, Lev. But you don’t see.”

  Panic welled up inside of me. I lowered my gaze, training my eyes on my feet. What was I to do now? I didn’t know how to react. I felt wrong.

  Releasing my hand, Nas assisted me in my unspoken query. “When you get the chance, apologize to Mina.”

  My stomach ached. I hated this, unintentionally hurting people. I nodded.

  My sister kissed my cheek and assured, “You’re a good man, Lev. You just need a little help sometimes. No biggie.”

  But it was a big deal, to me more than most.

  ***

  Mina

  “Mina.”

  It was childish, but I ignored him. “Mina, please look at me.”

  I took a moment from reading my handy little guide to mixers and turned my face toward him, but my eyes strayed, focusing on his chin. He spoke softly. “Nastasia informed me that what I said in front of Anika and Viktor was inappropriate and I likely embarrassed you.” My brow furrowed in confusion. He spoke about it as if he didn’t know why I would be embarrassed about it. He went on, “It wasn’t my intention to cause you distress, and I now understand why you called me an asshole. I apologize.”

  Saying sorry was one of the hardest things to say to a person, and Lev had done it in such a sincere manner that my anger ebbed away. Mostly. “I suppose you’re going to go around telling everyone that I’m a homeless thief?”

  He tilted his head in that way of his and concentrated hard, searching my face. “You’re ashamed of your past.”

  My eyes went down to the book in front of me and I uttered quietly, “There’s a stigma behind vagrants. Everyone looks down on the homeless. Of course I’m ashamed of my past.”

  “I’m not ashamed of who you are. And the only time I would look down on you is if I were helping you back up.”

  He had a way with words. I’d give him that. I wondered how he could say something, essentially stealing the breath from me. He seemed to enjoy doing it. He had to, otherwise he wouldn’t do it so often.

  “Stop doing that,” I whispered.

  His honeyed eyes narrowed in confusion. “Doing what?”

  “Being so nice to me.” I’d had enough. Slapping the book down on the bar, I gave in to myself and said what I’d been thinking. “Why am I here, Lev? Why have you brought me here? Here specifically? Why am I staying in your house, in you bed?” I paused. “Am I…” I swallowed hard. “You work in a gentleman’s club, surrounded by gorgeous women, I…” My voice hushed, I asked hesitantly, “Am I being groomed into prostitution?”

  A heavy silence followed. Then, “No.”

  My heart heavy, I turned up my face to look into his gorgeous eyes. “Tell me I can leave at any time, Lev.”

  His eyes on me, I watched as they flashed. Finally, he lowered his face and muttered, “You can leave at any time, Mina.” He stepped back and away from me. “Although I hope you choose to stay.” His face became impassive. “You deserve better than the unfortunate life you were dealt.”

  I watched him walk away from me and I was suddenly overwhelmed. My nose itched as my eyes filled with tears. I blinked them back, sniffling to myself in the dark corner of the bar, thankful for the solitude.

  Chapter Eleven

  Mina

  I wasn’t sure of the time when I first opened my eyes the next morning, nor the second, but each time I opened my eyes, I lifted my head to check the sofa bed. The first two times, the outline of Lev was apparent. The third time I checked, the sheets had been folded and rested on the edge of the mattress.

  I blinked drowsily at the made bed, and regardless of how many times I tried to get back to sleep after that, slumber wouldn’t take me.

  Yawning, I slipped out of bed, straightening the covers, and shuffled tiredly into the en suite to wash my face and brush my teeth with my snazzy new hot pink toothbrush. I brushed my hair and pulled it into a low ponytail. When I deemed myself presentable, I made my way downstairs, calling out, “Hello? Anyone home?”

  From the room to the left came, “In here, Miss Mina.”

  As soon as I stepped into the kitchen, I smiled. Lidiya, dressed in a light pink dress with frilly sleeves, her hair in a perfectly curly ponytail at the top of her head, sat in a high chair, spooning up what looked to be pasta straight into her mouth.

  Mirella, sitting by her side, smiled over at me. “Good afternoon, Miss Mina.”

  My voice still croaky from sleep, I groaned. “Oh, God. Please. You don’t have to be formal with me. Mina will do nicely, since I intend to call you Mirella.”

  The older woman grinned. “I can do that.” She mock-glared at Lidiya. “Now, you, missy. You need to eat up. Mirella needs to use the bathroom.”

  I looked to Lidiya, who was the picture of calm as she fed herself. “You can go ahead. I’ll watch her.”

  She looked uncertain. “Have you ever looked after a two-year-old before? They can be quite a handful.”

  I blinked. “You’re planning on spending the entire day in the bathroom?”

  The woman chuckled. “No, only a few minutes.”

  I walked over to the coffee machine and filled a mug. “Well, okay then.” Taking the seat she’d just vacated, I assured her, “We’ll be fine.” I smiled at the little girl with the lashes that would make a grown woman weep in a fit of jealousy. “All right, kiddo. Take it easy on me. I’m new at this.”

  Lidiya responded by scooping up some food onto her little spoon and holding it out to me while jabbering away.

  I was touched by her offer. My smile softened. “No, sweetie, that’s your lunch.” I lifted my coffee. “This is Mina’s breakfast.”

  But she insisted, holding the spoon out with more force than previously. I shook my head once more. “I’m sure it’s delectable, but really, I can’t.”

  She babbled harder and said something like, “Yest, Eena. Yest.”

  I pulled back, surprised. “Did you just say Mina?”

  She uttered, “Eena. Zhena. Eena. Eeeena. Yest.”

  I broke out into huge grin. “You did say my name, didn’t you? Smarty pants.”

  From behind me came. “She wants you to eat with her.”

  Gasping in shock, my entire body jerked in fright and, lifting a hand to my chest, I spun around to see Lev leaning against the doorway that lead to the laundry, watching the two o
f us.

  “You scared the poop out of me. How long have been standing there?”

  He walked farther inside the room and I nearly swallowed my tongue. Lev in a suit was delicious, but Lev wearing loose grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips, his tight black tee sticking to his broad chest with sweat, and his dark brown hair delightfully mussed was incredible.

  “Long enough to know that children scare you.”

  I was just about to deny that fact when Nas came in through the back door wearing a teeny see-through white t-shirt that showed her navel, her black bra visible to anyone with a pair of eyes, her blue jeans and flat strappy sandals the color of sand. Taking off her oversized sunglasses, she pointed at me. “You. Get your ass up, shower, and dress. We’ve got shit to do.”

  I looked from her to Lev then back. “We do?”

  She nodded. “You and me, down at the club, mixing drinks. We may end up too drunk to work tonight, but hey,”—she threw a light shrug of her shoulder then grinned wickedly—“it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

  I bit the inside of my lip. “I actually wanted to talk to you guys about that.” I cleared my throat and began, “I’m sure you saw me last night. I tried to do a good job. I really did, but I don’t think I’m cut out for it.” I paused a moment then added, “I smashed so many glasses that Anika took the blame for the last one. Then I was sent to the end of the bar to ‘study’ the drinks guide.” I huffed out a humorless laugh. “I’m not stupid. I know they were trying to get me out of the bar so they could do some real work. Babysitting isn’t part of the job.”

  Silence, then Nas spoke. “Oh, wah wah wah. Poor Mina’s having a hard time serving drinks. Someone get out the violin already.”

  “Hey,” I returned testily.

  Lev frowned. “You don’t like the job?”

  “I can’t do the job if I’m dropping glasses left, right, and center,” I explained, my voice pleading for him to understand.

  Nas shook her head, looking mildly disappointed. “I never took you for one of those girls who mopes around feeling sorry for themselves.”

  “I’m not!” I shot back.

  “Then buck the fuck up, precious.” She uttered in complete calm, “You gonna fall off the horse and let it trample you? Or are you gonna get back up and show the horse who’s boss?” I fumed in silence, and from Nastasia’s smug expression, she loved every moment of it. She smirked. “Make that horse your bitch, Mina. Do it.”

  I stood and stomped out of the kitchen, nearly bowling Mirella over on the way.

  ***

  Mina

  The club had a different feel about it during the day. With the music off and a stream of people restocking the bars, waxing the floors, and wiping down the tables and chairs, the pressure was off. My shoulders were loose and the tension I had felt the night before was gone.

  After Nas had yelled at me, which I noticed was kind of a theme with her, I went upstairs, let my hair down, dressed in a pair of black jeans, a white pair of strappy flip-flops, a white tank, and my caramel-toned sweater that hung off my shoulder. After seeing what Nas was wearing, I figured casual was acceptable for during the day.

  As we walked inside, I met two of the security crew, Brick and Tommy. Brick had been the one on door duty when I’d come in that very first night. He was pleasant but stern, and I was thankful he didn’t recognize me. I was going to ask why they called him Brick, but it was obvious. He was built like a brick house.

  Tommy, on the other hand, went from fierce to funny in a split second. He was tall and not quite as built as Brick, but when he scowled, he could scare the pants off anyone. He took my hand and kissed the back of it, lingering far too long. It had been a while since I had been shown any male attention. It felt nice and I giggled like a schoolgirl, my cheeks flaming around my smile.

  Nas laughed at me as I fanned my face, making our way to the bar. She nudged me. “You better get used to guys falling over themselves like that. Especially with a face like yours.”

  I was confused. “What do you mean?”

  She raised a brow. “Fishing for compliments?” But as I lowered my face, my brow furrowed in confusion, she muttered to herself, “Dear God, she doesn’t know.” Before I could say another word, she pulled me into the mirrored foyer. Thankfully, it was deserted when she placed me right in front of it and stood behind me. “What do you see when you look in the mirror?”

  I hated my reflection. It was cruel to look so much like the person I missed most in the world, my mother. I loved her until the very last moment of her illness, and when she died, my love turned to feigned indifference. I pretended it didn’t hurt to lose her, my mom, my best friend, although it was agony. Every breath I took over the next year proved difficult. My life would never be the same. She was pure sunshine. The person who took care of me when I was sick and made me laugh when I was sad. I depended on her. She was everything to me. And then she was gone.

  My eyes trained on my chin, I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Look at yourself. I mean really look at yourself.” My eyes met my reflection as she asked, “Don’t you see it? Can you even comprehend how attractive you are?”

  “I look like my mother,” I whispered.

  Nas smiled gently. “I’ll bet she was beautiful.”

  She was. “She was lovely.”

  “Can you see it?” Nas probed softly. I shook my head. She reached around me to place her fingers under my chin, lifting it, and my reflection was forced into my line of sight. “Look harder.” She moved to stand by my side. “You have elegant cheekbones. Your skin is impeccable and creamy, like porcelain. You have a small, full mouth, which I’ll bet gives men all sorts of naughty ideas.” My blush was intense. “Your hair is smooth and shiny, and dark without being black. Your big green eyes and long lashes make you look exotic and mysterious. And I’m guessing that when you get some weight back on that tiny tight body, you’re going to have curves in all the right places.” She placed her hands on my shoulders and squeezed hard enough to make a point. “You’re lethal, Mina. And you don’t even know it.”

  Her speech had me really looking at myself. I never viewed myself as beautiful. I’d always viewed myself as passable, but only just. But as she pointed everything out, bit-by-bit, I supposed it was there. For the first time, I could see it.

  “I’m pretty?” I asked carefully, inspecting my reflection.

  “Now you’re fishing for compliments.” She groaned as she pushed me to the side, causing me to stumble and laugh. “You little shit.” She chuckled as we went into the bar area.

  I winced as soon as my eyes hit the rows of glasses on the counter. “Are you sure you want to do this? Chances are I’m going to drop a glass, accidentally slit my wrist, and die on you.”

  Nas tilted her head up in thought. “Hmmm. Yes. That could be a problem.” She shrugged. “Again, a risk I’m willing to take.”

  She gathered a bunch of different glasses and pointed to each one as she named them. “Highball. Tumbler. Sifter. Shot. Cocktail. Martini. Wine. Flute.”

  “No beer glasses?”

  She seemed pleased that I’d noticed. “We are a high class establishment. We do serve imported beers, but you’ll find that majority of our patrons will ask for mixers. Otherwise,”—she reached under the bar to pull out another tall glass from inside the refrigerator—“beer glasses are kept chilled and served with a wedge of lemon, strictly no ice.”

  “Chilled. Lemon. No ice.” I nodded. “Got it.”

  For the better part of two hours, Nas taught me how to make several of the standard order drinks. She told me it was okay if I forgot what went in which drink then showed me recipe cards for all the drinks she’d taught me to make and more. With each additional drink, my confidence was boosted, and soon enough, I was mixing, muddling and shaking drinks like I was born to do it.

  As I finished mixing my last drink of the day, Nas leaned her hip on the bar, looking extremely pleased with herself, and I bo
wed happily. “Thank you. Thank you. I’ll be here all week.”

  An accented voice sounded from behind me. “And with a view like this, who could resist.” When he said ‘this,’ it came out as zis.

  I turned to face the man, who was smiling widely over the top of my head to Nastasia. She gasped, ran, and then threw herself into his waiting arms. Laughing, she pulled back and kissed him, smack on the mouth. Cupping his stubbled cheeks, she all but yelled, “Philippe Neige, you son of a gun! And looking hot as always, I see.”

  He was hot. Like, smoking.

  The man smiled, and the lines around his eyes deepened. He looked to be in his forties, was as tall as Sasha, had dark blond hair, and smiling green eyes. I gathered he was French, not only from his accent, but also from the way Nas said his name. He wore a pair of dark blue jeans. His white shirt was left untucked, and he finished of his polished look with a pair of dark brown loafers.

  He kissed Nastasia’s cheek for a second too long. “I missed you, my dove.”

  All of a sudden, Nas pulled away, her expression turning arctic. “Heard you’re working for Laredo.” It sounded like an accusation.

  His smile fell and his face turned stern. He didn’t deny it. “Oui.”

  She stepped away from him, her face as pained as her voice. “How could you, Philippe? After what he did…” It became too much to speak about it, and I was stunned by the emotion she was showing. Nastasia seemed hard as nails. Whatever this Laredo guy did must’ve been pretty bad to warrant that kind of reaction.

  Sasha walked in from the door behind the bar. He looked from an unrelenting Philippe to an emotional Nas, over to me, and then back to Philippe. “Back away, Nas.” She looked over at him, her eyes a raging fire. Sasha spoke coolly as always. “Philippe came because I needed him. Don’t disrespect him. You’ll regret it.” Although the words came out in threat form, the way his voice changed, softening slightly, suggested Nas didn’t know all the facts.