I sighed and tried to remember what he’d asked me. What the average American knew about oligarchs, and then remembered what Mom used to call them the few times she’d mentioned them.
“Vory v kostymukah.”
“Isn’t that like the mob?”
“No. That’s Vory v zakone. Vory v kostymukah means thieves in suits.” I got off the counter and sat down on the floor to do some more stretching. “Some say the word oligarch has lost its meaning because they’re not as prominent, and that the government has taken the power back, but I doubt that’s true. I think they’re just in the government these days.”
He studied me with interest with the spatula in his hand. “What did your mom said about the time after the revolution?”
“Not much. She doesn’t talk much about her life either before or after the end of the Soviet Union. I don’t think they’re pleasant memories.”
I’d heard some from other sources, but I’d never asked her about it. Like rumors and accusations about how ballet dancers were used as ‘currency’ with foreigners who visited the Soviet Union. Basically used as prostitutes, either to encourage the guests, or to later be blackmailed with proof of their indiscretions. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to know if it was true, and given how little she’d ever mentioned about her early life in general, I doubted that was one of the things she’d tell me about, and it wasn’t something I’d share with Mitch anyway. “I know that many of the oligarchs laid the foundation to their fortunes on the black market right after the revolution.”
“I know.” His back was towards me now, and he was cracking eggs into the frying pan. “And then they used the money to buy the public companies.”
“Why are you asking when you seem to know more than I do?”
He turned around and smiled. “Just curious if there was something about it that I didn’t know.”
“I doubt it. When is the breakfast done?”
“Five minutes. Want some fruit, too?”
I nodded, dearly hoping that we were done with the Russia questions, and I seemed to be in luck.
The breakfast was great—eggs, bacon, fruit, and coffee—all eaten while he was not asking questions, which was really nice. When the food was gone, he followed me to the door and held my face in his big hands.
“I’m leaving for a ride tomorrow, and we won’t be back until Thanksgiving, so have a great Thanksgiving.
“I’ll do my best. And you, too.”
“I’ll call you,” he gave me another kiss before opening the door for me.
“Do that and thanks for breakfast.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, and I turned to walk away. “And girl, next time you’re here you’re staying the night. I liked the massage.”
“Okay.”
Morning sex was definitely a good thing, so I could agree with that. I figured I had to tell Irina about him, though. I just hoped she didn’t want to be formally introduced to him. Introducing a fuck buddy didn’t seem like the natural thing to do.
-o0o-
Lisa had accused me of disappearing from the face of the planet, and she called me two days later saying that she bloody knew Mitch was away, and that I should take my responsibility as her BFF and let her get drunk in my company. She’d decided we were having a full night out—barhopping. I wasn’t convinced it was such a good idea, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer.
I was nervous; I hadn’t actually been out barhopping since before the accident, and I wasn’t sure how I’d be able to walk around when I was drunk. At the same time, it truly felt as if I needed it. I needed to—as Irina used to say—let my hair down.
“Really?” Lisa said when I opened the door. “That’s your barhopping outfit?”
I wasn’t looking at her, though. I was looking at the tall guy with black hair standing a few feet behind her. I remembered him being called Wrench. He’d been at the sex shop when we were there, and that thought alone made me blush.
“Why is he here?”
“I think Dad is prepping him for Prospecting,” she whispered. “He’s a hang-around, and it’s his job to make sure we get home safe and sound tonight.”
“So he’s gonna… follow us around?”
“Yup.” She turned around and slapped his arm. “Right?”
“Yeah,” he mumbled. He didn’t seem overjoyed about his ‘work’ that day. “I’ll stay in the background.”
“How very secret service of you,” I mumbled and went inside to get my stuff.
I knew Lisa’s comment about my outfit meant she’d roam my closet for half an hour before telling me what to wear instead. I honestly didn’t mind, I’d prepared by just putting anything on instead of bothering before she’d had her say. That’s the way she worked, and so far I’d always looked a lot better in whatever she suggested than anything I’d picked myself. Spending one’s days in either training gear or dresses covered in rhinestones made it hard to really know what normal people wore when they went out to dance. Back in New York, I’d tended to go for jeans and a nice top, but I doubted that would be hot enough for Lisa.
By the time we’d reached the first bar, I was dressed in a black skirt with a red shirt, and Wrench was standing in the corner sipping on something I suspected was a virgin Cuba libre. I turned to Lisa.
“Does that happen often?” I asked and nodded towards Wrench.
“Kind of does, actually. Dad still thinks I’m the same as when I was sixteen. You know, like when we went to that party at the abandoned house with Rick.”
“Okay, can we just get that part straight, we didn’t go there with Rick. You did and made me come with you, and then you just disappeared.”
“I didn’t disappear! Dad and Brick barged in and pulled me out of there. Either way, sneaking out became a lot harder after that, and these days he sends someone with me if he knows I’m going out.”
“You’re kidding me?”
“He pulls the ‘for your own safety’ stunt, but they’re usually just standing around and leave me alone. Just makes it slightly awkward to try to pick someone up.” She smiled and toasted towards Wrench, and he looked even more pissed. “He’s got really nice eyes, doesn’t he?”
He did. Ice blue in the shade my old roommate used to call panty-dropping blue, and they looked especially stunning in contrast with his black hair and beard, but he mostly seemed annoyed when I smiled at him, so I turned back towards Lisa and left him alone.
“When did you cut off your hair?” I asked, mainly to have something to talk about. She’d cut her hair once when we were younger, but I’d only heard about it. It was when I’d already moved to New York, and we mostly emailed each other. “You look nice, don’t get me wrong, it’s just a bit unusual.”
“I got dumped. Sort of.”
“How do you sort of get dumped?”
“I met this guy by coincidence at the hospital. Really hot. He came back the next day with flowers and asked me out. In general, he totally wined and dined me. Super cute, and a famous NHL player, so he took me everywhere in L.A. And the sex… Oh my god, the sex was amazing. I fell head over heels.”
“Sounds great.”
“It was. Until I realized I was the only one in the state who didn’t know he was married. I saw him in a newscast with his wife by his side, talking about how she was so supportive and his career would’ve been nothing if it wasn’t for her.”
“Ouch.”
She nodded and shrugged. Lisa was a very tolerant person, but she couldn’t stand people lying to her or deceiving her. Ever! I also knew that she didn’t wallow in misery, so cutting the hair was probably her way of getting some closure on what had happened. It still felt as if it for once should be me offering my support, so I took her hand.
“I’m here if you want to talk or just rant about what an ass he is.”
“Thank you,” she smiled. “I think I’m just done with men for now. I’ve never been very lucky in relationships.”
“Sorry, but how does that
explain the hair?”
“I just… He liked my hair, so I cut it off.” She noticed me staring. “I know, not very logical at all, but it made perfect sense in my head right then. Besides, I did it the last time I got dumped, too.”
I really tried to not laugh, and luckily she was too focused on staring into nothing to notice my pretty feeble attempts.
“Actually,” she continued. “I think I did it for the same reason that time, too.”
I couldn’t help it, I started laughing, and Lisa being Lisa, she soon laughed just as hard as I did.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Wanna See My Room?
-o0o-
It was Thanksgiving, and as usual Mitch was planning on spending the afternoon with the rest of the club at his Dad’s place, but he popped by at his Mom’s place in the morning. He found her in the kitchen wearing a flowery apron and with sweat dripping from her forehead. Her usually immaculate hairdo was a mess.
“Hi, Honey!” she smiled when she saw him. “Give your sweat-soaked mom a kiss.”
“Appealing,” he mumbled, but did as she’d asked. “Mac says hi. He was on his way, but then Vi broke down and cried about her stockings tearing, or something like that.”
Donna just laughed and waved her hand to indicate it didn’t matter. “I’ll stop by tomorrow and leave them some leftovers.”
“If there are any!” Steve yelled from the living room. Steve, his mom’s husband, was a very typical ‘Steve,’ but Mitch liked him, and he made Donna very happy.
“Are his kids coming by?” Mitch asked with a nod towards the living room.
“Yes. Full house.” She pulled out her smokes from the front pocket of the apron and sat down on the chair in front of the stove. After turning on the kitchen fan, she lit it. “Have one with me and tell me how things are. Still canoodling with that ballet dancer?”
In a weak moment, he’d mentioned Anna, and he’d regretted it many times since then. He liked talking to his mom about stuff, but he usually tried to avoid the subject of his fuck buddies, since his mom always assumed they were his girlfriends. The thing about Anna had slipped out when Donna had said that Jenny, Steve’s granddaughter, had started ballet.
“Mom! It’s the twenty-first century, no one says that anymore.”
“I’m not a twenty-first century woman, and I say whatever the hell I want. And you’re avoiding the question.”
“I think so. I haven’t seen her since before I was away, but I guess I am.”
“I don’t know how you and your brother could’ve come from the same womb and grown up in the same household,” she muttered. “And the fact that you were my boy, and Mac was Brick’s, makes me even more confused, because he was the whore in our marriage.”
Mitch laughed. “True. He’s not anymore, though.”
“No,” she said and put out her cigarette with slightly more force than necessary, then she stood up. “Guess he’s not.”
“Hey,” he said, and he felt bad. He shouldn’t have said that. “I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t worry about it.”
He assumed it was still a sore spot, the fact that his dad had cheated on her, and, as far as Mitch knew, he’d never cheated on Mel.
“Maybe he grew up,” he tried.
“Yeah,” she smiled. “When are you gonna grow up?”
“No hurry. And Mac and Vi are gonna give you loads of grandkids. Those two are gonna keep at it for as long as possible, and given how early they started, they’ll fill that big house of theirs.”
“Thank you.” She leaned down and gave him a kiss. “You should bring that ballerina by, though. I’d like to meet her.”
“Yeah, ‘cause that’s not gonna scare her off.”
“You little shit. Move, I need to check the turkey and you’re in the way.”
“I gotta go. If you feel inclined, I’d like some of those leftovers, too.”
“Only for kids who give me grandkids. Work on it until next year.”
“No offence, but if I have a kid by next Thanksgiving, I’ll put a bullet in my head.” He gave her a kiss. “Love you, Ma.”
“Love you. Give my love to everyone. And happy Thanksgiving.”
He exchanged a few words with Steve before he left, and promised him he’d come by soon again.
When he came to his dad’s house, most of the club and their families were there. Everyone seemed to have a nice time, except Vi, who had stopped crying about her stockings, but since she was two days past her due date, she was still in a pretty shitty mood. She was very fed up with being pregnant, and Lisa’s comment about it not being unusual for first timers to go as much two weeks past their due date hadn’t helped. It also had made Mac giggle nervously, since he was also very fed up with Vi being pregnant. Mitch wasn’t exactly fed up with it; he just really wanted to meet his godson.
After a dinner that made Mitch feel like he was about to burst, he went downstairs with Lisa, Eliza, Mac, and Vi. He picked up his phone and started surfing, and pretty soon he heard Mac snoring at the other end of the couch.
“What the fuck are you watching!” Brick almost roared when he and Sisco walked into the room. Even Mac woke up from his food coma and sat up to see what was going on. “Change the channel. Now!”
“No!” Lisa yelled and Mitch looked up to see what the fucking problem was. “I wanna see, it’s Anna!”
Mitch leaned closer to the TV. And there she was, in a short top and long skirt, and he could clearly see what she’d meant when she’d said she used to be a lot skinnier. She was nothing but skin and bones. Her ribs were clearly visible, and not only on the sides, but on her chest, too, and her boobs were definitely smaller as well—if you could call them boobs. That’s when he started to notice other things, like how she moved.
“Who the fuck is Anna?” Brick asked.
“My friend,” Lisa answered without taking her eyes off the screen. “Look at her, she was so good. Amazing!”
“Is that Anna?” Eliza asked Lisa, but she was smiling at Mitch. “She’s pretty.”
“She is,” Lisa nodded.
Mitch turned his attention back to the TV, and Lisa was right—Anna was amazing. He had no idea what the dance was about. Some guy seemed to be trying to...
“She’s a fucking cock tease,” his dad laughed. “Look at that.”
“What the fuck are you watching?” This time it was Bear. “Is that Anna?”
“Yeah,” Lisa answered.
“So beautiful,” Vi sniveled. “It’s so sad.”
“Why?” Brick asked.
“She can’t dance anymore. And look at how good she was. She was really going places, a real talent.”
“This is La Bayadère,” Eliza suddenly said. “It’s really sad. And sexist.”
“How do you know that?” He had to ask. As far as he knew his little sister didn’t give a shit about ballet.
“I wrote an essay about how women were portrayed in some classical ballets. You know, to piss off the aspiring prima ballerinas in my class.” Of course she did. His sister, the feminist tease.
“She’s from here,” Lisa explained to Brick, who’d sat down and was actually watching. “She was in an accident about two years ago. Hurt her leg, so she can’t dance anymore.”
They all sat in silence and watched. Around the time when Edie and Dawg showed up, Anna was dancing in a red outfit instead, and she looked kind of like a harem girl. She was dancing her fucking heart out and moving in graceful leaps and pirouettes all over the stage, holding a bunch of flowers and then...
“What the fuck happened?” he asked
“She was dancing to the man she loved and the woman he’s gonna marry. The fiancée and her dad knows he’s really in love with Anna and put a snake into the basket of flowers. Now the creepy guy who’s also in love with Anna says he can save her if she marries him, but she’d rather die than live without the love of her life.” Eliza sat quiet for a while. “Imagine, she must’ve practiced every day since she wa
s a kid. Dancing all the time, spent her entire life on it and now—just like that—she can’t do it anymore.”
Having never seen Anna dance before, he was stunned. She was amazing, and he hadn’t fully realized until then how shit it was that she couldn’t anymore. Even if he thought it looked kind of silly, he could see why people thought it was beautiful. When he looked around the room, he realized that they were all staring at the screen, completely lost… in a ballet. Half a biker club was watching a ballet on TV. That was pretty bizarre.
“Fuck, she’s flexible,” Sisco mumbled. “That has to be so awesome.”
He could’ve told Sisco that it was awesome—more than awesome. Sex with Anna was just getting better, too. And she was fun, cute, and so... loveable. He wanted to call her all the fucking time but tried to keep it down. He was pleased as hell about managing to get her to stay the night at his place; he didn’t like her just taking off in the middle of the night. Since she hogged the cover, he got to sleep really close to her, and he’d enjoyed helping her with the massages in the morning.
The dude she was dancing with lifted her up, and Mitch almost laughed at how graceful it looked. She must’ve felt like a sack of potatoes when he carried her on his back.
“Those shoes doesn’t look very comfortable,” Mel said, and he hadn’t even noticed her coming down the stairs.
“They’re not,” Lisa answered. “She let me try them once. They were horrible, and they don’t last long, either. Remember her telling me the professional dancers sometimes used two pairs per show. That the shoes ‘died.’”
“Died?” Eliza asked. “How?”
“I don’t know. I never really got it, but that’s what she said.”
Center of Gravity (Marauders Book 3) Page 11