by Peart, A. O.
“Faith?” I ask. “She died in the car crash.”
“He killed her. He is responsible,” the creep says, and his voice drips with hatred.
“She was driving, and she was drunk. It was an accident.”
“Is that what he told you?”
I’m speechless. Colin wouldn’t lie to me. He wouldn’t. I can’t afford having stupid doubts about the man I trust over some psychopath’s revelations.
“This is what happened. And you need to get your story straight instead of getting all worked up about some imaginary facts,” I hiss.
He’s quiet. Too quiet. Oh, shit, I pissed him off. But then he says slowly, “I will find him, and when I do, he will pay.”
“We are here,” Svetlana’s whisper comes from my cell phone. “Lead him on, come on, Natalie. We need to know where to look for him.”
An ambulance drives by, siren blaring. I hear it coming from both phones. Okay, so the creep definitely is close by. I quickly say, “Listen, let’s talk about this. How about if I meet you somewhere?” I sound crazy even to my own ears.
For a moment I think he’s gone, but then he says, “I would like that.” And this simple declaration scares the living crap out of me. What did I just do? Svetlana better be there with her thugs and their guns.
“Making yourself bait is not a good idea.” I hear Svetlana’s disapproving voice.
I ignore her and say into both phones, “There is a bar close to my apartment. They are open really late. It’s called Roy’s Brothers.”
“I will see you walk from your apartment, so don’t try anything stupid.”
I gulp. “Of course not. I will be there in a few minutes. It’s just around the corner from my place, Broadway and Olive—”
“I know where it is,” he snarls. “You have five minutes.” He hangs up.
I figured he knew the place when he didn’t ask right away where it was. But I wanted to make sure Svetlana and her goons knew it too. As if reading my mind Svetlana whispers, “We are parked across from your building. Now we’ll be driving there. Keep the cell phone on. And stick with the street crowd. Don’t walk into any buildings or alleys on your own. Go straight to Roy’s Brothers, okay?”
“He hung up,” I tell her. “Gave me five minutes to get there.”
“You will see me with two guys by Roy’s Brothers. I will pretend to make out with one of them. The other will be talking on the phone next to us.”
“Okay,” I say in a shaky voice. “Listen. I have the photo of Razor. I’m texting it to you so you know who to look for.”
“Great idea.”
I put my jacket and running shoes on. Maybe I should bring something to use as a weapon, but I quickly dismiss that idea. Better leave the fighting to Svetlana’s hooligans.
ELEVEN
“The lunatic’s visions of horror are all drawn from the material of daily fact.”
William James
I stick my head out and look into the hallway. It’s lit up, and there is nobody there. The neighbors in my building never buzz anyone in without knowing who they are. It’s the agreement we all have. That’s how I know Razor wouldn’t be able to get inside. Still, my heart thrashes in my chest, and I can hardly take a breath with my constricted in fear ribcage.
I run down the stairs. The building front door opens to the outside. If Razor is hiding by the entrance, he would have to be to the right, since the door swings out to the left side. I slowly push on the handle and peer outside, ready to slam the door back in. But he’s not there. I exhale and wonder for the umpteenth time what the hell got into me with playing some kind of heroine.
I already told Svetlana that my cell phone is going to be tucked in my bra. I’m not carrying anything else, except thirty dollars in cash and my Driver’s License in my jacket pocket. The key to my apartment will stay hidden, pressed deep into the dirt right by the entrance to my building. I pretend to tie my shoe while surreptitiously pushing the key into the dirt. If something goes wrong, and Razor somehow drags me back to my place, at least we won’t be able to get in. He won’t find the key on me, and I can claim losing it somewhere on the street. But I hope like hell that it won’t come to that.
I stand up and start walking. There are still a lot of people on the street, even at this late hour, and I make sure to stay close to them at all time. I’m scared shitless, but I press on. My eyes dart from side to side, but there is no sign of Razor.
I see Svetlana and the thugs. They are big—tall and muscular. I remember Razor being on the small, rather scrawny side. Although that doesn’t mean he isn’t dangerous. But, at least, I’m hoping that those two Russian giants won’t have a hard time pounding some sense into him.
Svetlana notices me, but pretends not to pay me any attention. She’s making out with one of the goons, but I can tell they are both on the lookout. Not bad. And so is the second one, who to an unsuspecting eye appears like a tipsy guy, flirting on the phone with his girlfriend. He keeps himself upright by heavily leaning on the wall for support.
I’m pulling the door to Ray’s open when the playing-drunk guy takes a cigarette from his pocket and asks someone for a light. In the corner of my eye I see a man stopping next to him; a man who wears a black leather jacket and a black ski hat. Fuck! It’s him! Razor. Ohmigod, dark spots swirl in front of my eyes, and I feel sweat running down my back, between my breasts, under my arms, hell—everywhere!
Get a grip, Natalie. The self-reproach doesn’t help. It never does. I meet Svetlana’s eyes, and understand that she wants me to go inside. So I do, without looking at the Black Leather Jacket to my right.
Before the door closes behind me, I hear her croon to her partner-in-crime, “I’m so cold. Let’s go in and get a drink. Is that okay with you, baby?” He grunts something in response, and they both laugh. They are good: totally natural and believable.
I rush inside, Svetlana and her goon at my heels. The second one stays outside. She keeps blabbering nonsense like some blonde bimbo, and he laughs and comments like a typical guy would who signed up for the “get laid” train ride.
It’s reassuring to have these two right behind me. I push aside an unwelcomed thought that I just met Svetlana and, in fact, I don’t know her at all. Shit, it just hits me—what if she’s in cahoots with Razor? I wouldn’t know, would I? How could I be so stupid to completely trust a stranger I just met? And not just a stranger. A-gun-caring mafia babe! Hunching my shoulders, I take my cell phone out from my cleavage to text Ali and Jena. I decide to leave Caroline out of it, since she finally landed a date, and I don’t want her to worry about me while getting laid.
I send a quick text to the girls: “I’m in Roy’s Brothers bar on Broadway and Olive. Svetlana and her goons are with me. There is trouble. Some asshole named Razor keeps calling me. He says Colin killed his previous girlfriend. It’s a bunch of crap, but I need you to know in case my body turns up in a dumpster tomorrow morning.”
There. Done. Between the three of them someone will get this soon.
Jena answers right away: “WTF????? Who’s Svetlana? And who the fuck is Razor? U have a stalker? Goons? Colin killed someone? Whaaaaaaaat????”
Yeah, it’s Jena all right. I sigh and quickly type: “I’m serious. It’s all true except the Colin stuff. He’s in Atlanta till tomorrow night. Svetlana is a friend. Russian.”
She texts right back: “On my way. Grannie’s in bed. I’m bringing my Russian dictionary.”
What? I didn’t mean for anyone to come here. But knowing Jena, there is no talking to her. Ugh. And I bet she is bringing the effin’ dictionary. She’s been taking Russian class for extra credits.
I text: “Jena. This guy is a psycho. Dressed in a black leather jacket. An ugly tat on his neck… chain and roses.”
“U know how to have fun, girl! Where’s Ali?”
“Ali’s sleeping. Long story. Will tell u when u get here.”
“KK. On my way.”
I close my eyes and sigh. Now I’
ve done it. I hoped that Jena’s and Ali’s phones are on a do-not-disturb mode. But no! The crazies are always on high alert. Dammit. Well, at least Ali’s phone is off. But Jena is on her way. After all, maybe it’s better this way. At least someone will be here to recover my body.
It makes me feel better that Jena will be here. But I also feel like shit for dragging her into this mess. What if she gets hurt? I’m starting to shake again and I clench my hands into fists, fingernails painfully digging into the flesh. I imagine red half-moons left on my palms.
I look around for Razor and can’t locate him. Dammit. Where is he? I turn around and see Svetlana and her mafia guy a few feet away, pretending to be completely absorbed in each other. But I can tell their eyes are alert and focused on the surroundings. She winks at me and points with her eyes to the bar.
I follow, hoping like hell that she actually has a plan. I still don’t see Razor. He must be somewhere here. I keep looking and finally spot him pressed to the wall by the bar, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. What should I do? Wave? Fuck no. I’m going to act as if I don’t remember how he looks. Now the ball is in his court. I make sure to stay close to Svetlana and her Russian ex-Special-Forces, although maintaining a I don’t know these two look.
My cell phone buzzes against my boobs. I turn away from Razor’s prying eyes and fish it out. It’s Colin. Crap! I take a few quick, deep breaths and text him: “At Roy’s down the street. Waiting for Jena to arrive. Love you. Miss you.” It’s true—I am where I said, and Jena’s coming. He doesn’t need to know any more than that. My subconscious frowns at me, hissing that I’m withdrawing all the crucial facts, which makes my text a shitty excuse for the truth. I nonchalantly ignore the bitch. Not now, I tell her.
I feel a hand gripping over my elbow and I jolt. Turning my head to see who’s at my side, I come eye-to-eye with Razor. There is no way I can possibly take a breath, because my air passages decided they are closed for business. My heart acts like the plug in my throat, and black flakes start swirling in my eyes. If that’s how fainting feels like, I’m not subscribing to the damsel-in-distress fun club. Fuck that. I like my organs functioning normally.
Something weird happens. Razor puts his arm around me and says, “Oh… sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you, Natalie. Are you okay?”
I’m falling. I’m freakin’ falling! And there is nothing I can grip for support. But he’s clutching me and pulling me upright. There is something like concern in his eyes. He looks… alarmed?
“Natalie!” He sounds so freaked out that it makes me want to giggle. Holy Mother of Sweet Jesus, I’ve never been scared out of my wits like this. I don’t know what to think anymore. This guy, who terrifies me, is actually supporting me and he seems shocked himself. What the heck?
“Natalie. I’m not going to hurt you. I don’t hurt women or children.” His words come out in a rush.
I see Svetlana and the Russian pushing through the crowd toward us, but I shake my head, and they stop a few feet away, watching us. Razor sits me down in a chair. I feel my cell phone buzzing between my breasts. I bet it’s Colin, but I can’t worry about it now.
“There, there. I will get you some water. Stay here,” he whispers and takes off.
In a split second Svetlana is kneeling next to me. “What’s going on?”
“I’m okay. I almost fainted. He caught me and is bringing some water. You guys wait, okay? Don’t get him just yet. I want to know more. Don’t go far,” I tell her quickly, and she nods, frowning.
“Oleg and I will be here. Vadim is outside, so this asshole is not going anywhere.” Vadim must be the thug outside who’s pretending to be drunk. Oleg is the one who’s standing next to her, acting like her date.
O-kay. This makes me feel better. They step aside, mixing with the crowd, but they keep their eyes on me. I wait. Razor returns a moment later with a huge glass of ice water. For a split moment I wonder if I should drink from it. What if he put some shit in to drug me.
“Did you put anything in it?” I accuse him.
His mouth drops open, and he stares at me. Nah, he didn’t do it.
“Of course not. Why would I?” he says.
“Well, let’s see. Maybe to drug me, and then take me somewhere to sexually abuse me and kill me?” I challenge. Okay, so I like to read thrillers.
He rolls his eyes. He actually rolls his eyes! What kind of a bad guy does that? “Don’t be stupid.”
Huh? Now I’m even more confused than I was before. “Wait. So you wouldn’t hurt me? Promise?” I sound like a moron, I know, but nothing better comes to mind. I just decide to play innocent. Hell, I am innocent. Ah, screw the self-assessment.
“I’m not into hurting women. I told you already.” He sits in a chair next to me.
I drink a few gulps of cold water, watching him, and instantly start feeling better. I take a slow, deep breath and try to discern anything out of the ordinary in his face. Nothing. He looks like a regular guy. Or maybe he’s just that good of an actor, and I am a crappy observer.
“Tell me everything. From the beginning. Why are you after Colin? What did he do exactly?”
His features harden. Oh, shit. But I’m here to find the truth, so he better talk, or I’m handing him over to the mafia. He looks away, and his jaw tightens. His eyes narrow. Then he turns to look at me, and I don’t like a bit what I see in his eyes. There is so much hatred, so much pain… and even though I know Colin’s story, I start to wonder.
“Tell me,” I insist. “I must know.”
TWELVE
“There is one pain I often feel, which you will never know. It is caused by the absence of you.”
Anonymous
Svetlana and her goon are in the crowd directly behind Razor’s back, about fifteen feet away. Not too close to raise any suspicion, but not too far for them to react quickly if the need arises.
I look at Razor’s tightened fists. There are letters and symbols on each knuckle, and I fleetingly wonder if there is any specific meaning to them, or if he got inked kind of randomly like some people do—without any deeper thought behind the design.
“Faith was my niece. Her father and I were brothers. He killed himself shortly after she died… got drunk one night and hung himself in the stable.” Razor’s bushy brows come together, a deep groove forming in his forehead between them. His lips are pressed together into a thin line, and his fists clench and unclench.
He’s looking into the distance, and my eyes dart over his head to Svetlana. I nod to her a tiny bit, and she nods back, taking a sip from her glass.
I remember Colin mentioning Faith’s uncle. Was it Razor?
“So you and Faith’s father were brothers.” I rehash. “Any other siblings?”
“No, just the two of us. He was four years older than me.”
Okay, so it is the same man. Colin told me that Faith once mentioned to him her uncle. That he did weird things to her, but she wouldn’t exactly say what. Colin didn’t think it was of a sexual nature. Faith was a virgin when they first met. So what was so strange that this guy, who’s now sitting across from me, hell bent on hurting Colin, did to his beloved niece? What was it that she cringed upon mentioning and never even wanted to elaborate upon?
“Tell me about Faith,” I say.
He looks up sharply at me, and then rubs his chin with his hand. The two-day stubble on his face is almost completely gray. He’s quiet for a long time, and I’m waiting. I want to kick him hard under the table and scream, what the fuck was so horrible that you did to that girl? What was it that she wouldn’t ever want to tell anyone?”
Razor arranges his fingers in a steeple and looks at me from under his drawn-together brows. “I loved her like my own daughter. My brother didn’t have time or patience for the kid. He kept her at home, wouldn’t let her go anywhere. I would buy her ice cream and Coke. She loved Coke. We lived in a small village. There was one grocery store, and I would drive her there sometimes.”
I slowly shake my head. “So
, what was so bad about it?”
“Bad? Nothing was bad! Nothing, do you understand?” He’s angry. He pounds his fist on the table, and I jump. Whoa, what just happened?
He closes his eyes and breathes deeply. A moment later he says, “I’m sorry. Did I upset you?”
Fuck yes! “It’s okay. Tell me more about Faith.”
Razor buries his face in his hands. The guy is definitely odd, but I’m not going to point this out now. I’m waiting for him to continue. I see Svetlana and Oleg discretely watching us.
“Faith was unhappy. Her mother was a fucking drunk. Never cared about that kid. She was drinking and smoking even when she was pregnant with Faith. The booze killed her finally, and that was a good thing.” He spits on the floor. “I told Faith that we could run away together. I would be her daddy and take care of her, and we would never see my brother again.”
Huh? That’s so out of left field. “What did she say about that?”
“She wanted to go. She liked that idea. But she also wanted to go to college. I told her no college! It was either leaving together or nothing.”
Whoa. Bizarre is not the term strong enough for what he just said. This is too odd. He’s a real piece of work, but then, all psychos are.
“What?” he asks, taken aback.
“What do you mean what?” I shrug.
“You’re looking at me funny.”
I turn my face away from him so I can roll my eyes and not be called on it. When I look back, he seems confused. I wonder what’s going through his head now. His mind must be like one of those colorful yet nonsense kaleidoscopes.
“It just seems unusual that you wanted to be her daddy, and she simply agreed. But then you wouldn’t let her go to college. Why?” I look him straight in the eye. His pupils seem to dilate and contract.
“She needed my protection. I wouldn’t be able to watch over her when she was away at a college. She was weak and naïve, like a little child,” Razor explains. “Men would take an advantage of her, and she wouldn’t know how to guard herself.”