by Kyra Davis
Dena, Jason and Mary Ann all looked at me. I hadn’t told any of them about that headline.
Anatoly’s face darkened even as he took his final bite of the cupcake. “I’m following up on that,” he said, cryptically.
There was something about Anatoly’s tone. It invited no questions but also filled me with a vague sense of dread.
“What are we talking about here?” Dena asked, picking up on a shift in mood.
I hesitated and then shook my head. “Nothing, it was just a headline about Nolan-Volz being absorbed by a bigger company.”
“I’m the one who told you about that headline,” Jason mumbled through a mouth full of cupcake. “I don’t get what you mean when you say it was underlined.”
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “It’s a figure of speech,” I finally said. “I just meant, it was important.”
Dena gave me a look. She was one of the few people who could almost always tell when I was lying. I gave a subtle shake of my head, indicating that now wasn’t the time. For reasons I couldn’t explain it suddenly felt like an issue that needed to be dealt with more sensitively than the rest.
“I appreciate all of your concern,” I said, carefully. “And Mary Ann, these cupcakes are beyond belief. But…it’s been a very long day and I’m more than a little exhausted.” I looked up at my friends, silently asking for understanding.
Dena gave me a nod and pulled herself to her feet. “Time to call it a night, guys.” She walked over to Jason and linked her arm with his.
Mary Ann got to her feet as well. “I’ll emailed you the recipe for the cupcakes,” she said, helpfully as I stood up to give her a hug goodbye.
“I’ll use it,” I said definitively. “I’ll walk you guys out.”
“Thanks again for helping me escape my chains of servitude,” Jason called back to Anatoly as Ms. Dogz and I escorted our guests to the door. Under her breath I heard Dena mutter, “You love servitude.”
Mary Ann gave everyone another quick hug before trotting down to her car. Ms. Dogz sat on the porch looking after her. Funny, the dog was new to this house and yet she never tried to run away from it.
Dena held back a moment. “Meet me in the car, okay Jason?” she asked as she handed him the keys.
He hesitated a moment but then nodded leaving the two of us alone.
“You can’t break up with him yet,” I said as I watched him go. “It would be cruel to break-up with a man within twenty-four hours of chaining him up.”
“I’m not breaking up with him…at least not tonight,” Dena said with a sigh. “Probably not tomorrow either, or anytime soon…then again…oh, who knows?”
“I’m sorry,” I said, leaning against the door frame. “I’m so sorry I complicated things between the two of you.”
Dena gave me a half smile that seemed to be infused with both forgiveness and weariness. She shifted her gaze to where her car was parked. The headlights were off but you could see the faint glow of Jason’s cell as he fiddled with it from his place in the passenger seat. “It’s frustrating how someone can be so perfect for you in some ways and so totally wrong for you in others,” she noted.
“You still think Jason and I are being paranoid conspiracy theorists?”
“I think what you’re doing, asking potentially violent people provocative questions is…well, it’s a bad idea,” she said, thoughtfully. “But you’re not seeing things that aren’t there or buying into crazy conspiracy theories the way he does.” She nodded toward her car. “They need a new dating app, one where dominant chicks like me can find men who are both submissive and grounded in reality.”
“Sounds like a winning pitch for the next tech expo,” I suggested, smiling.
Dena allowed herself a small smile as she turned her gaze up to the night sky. “So what’s next?”
“London’s daughter said she’d meet with me tomorrow, probably here although I haven’t heard from her since she said she would.” A white moth flew toward my face and I impatiently swatted it away. “I don’t understand what’s going on,” I admitted. “Charity was very clear, Aaron London’s wife is dead. And when I match that theory up with the things Gun told me it kind of makes sense. Gun never actually said London’s wife left him. He said he lost her. But then Anatoly found all these records that say otherwise, so...” I shook my head. There were no obvious answers.
Dena let out a humorless laugh. “It would appear that not making sense is the one consistent characteristic of both Aaron London’s life and death.”
“Yeah.” I agreed with a sigh. Ms. Dogz who was still on the porch turned back to me and cocked her head to the side.
“How are things with you and Anatoly?”
I looked away, suddenly feeling teary. “I’ve been screwing up,” I admitted. “I…I don’t know why I keep pushing him. I know I need to talk to him, but it’s just been so hard.”
“Try talking to him again now,” Dena suggested, “while you’re both still under the spell of the magical cupcake. As for the rest of it,” she reached forward and squeezed my hand, “just be careful, Sophie, okay?”
“I’ll be careful,” I said although I wasn’t sure I even knew what that meant anymore.
Dena’s tight-lipped smile let me know that she knew the worth of that promise. She headed down the porch steps and started walking toward the sidewalk but then stopped and looked back at me. “Maybe my problems with Jason can be solved if I just add another guy to the mix. It’s been a while since we’ve done a three-some. If Anatoly has any friends who might be game, let me know.”
I watched her go, wondering how many problems had been worked out through ménage a trois’. Even when things between Anatoly and me weren’t perfect I never wanted anyone else…except maybe Dwayne Johnson. If I thought The Rock was available for a three-way, I might have to make the pitch to Anatoly.
When I came back, I found Anatoly still at the dining table, his now empty cupcake wrapper crinkled up in his hand, eying the last remaining cupcake the way…well, the way I usually eye pictures of Dwayne Johnson.
“I know what you’re longing for,” I teased him.
He dragged his eyes away and smiled up at me. “I’ve been told that one’s yours because you’re the one people are trying to kill.” His smile faded a little. “I’m not going to let that happen. You know that.”
I disappeared into the kitchen and then came back with a butter knife and cut the cupcake in half. “I’m glad you still want to keep me alive.” I handed him half.
He gently took my offering and lifted it as if toasting me. I returned the gesture with my own half-a-cupcake and bit into it the same time he did. “You haven’t been forthcoming with me lately,” Anatoly said after a moment of chewing. He angled himself to face me. “You’ve misled me…occasionally lied to me.”
I flinched but said nothing.
“I’ve been secretive with you as well…in the past,” Anatoly continued. “How many years had we been together before I told you I had an estranged wife? That I had once been part of the Russian mafia? I told myself I was protecting you but instead my secrets put you in danger.”
“Yeah, but that’s all over now,” I said with a shrug, my mind briefly touching memories of our tumultuous trip to Vegas before coming back to the crisis at hand.
“Is it?”
There was a touch of insecurity in his voice. Anatoly was never, ever insecure. I looked up into his eyes, trying to read his thoughts. “Is there more?” I asked, warily. “Are you still keeping a secret from me?”
“Only that I knew…I know that had you chosen to leave me over those secrets it would have been understandable. I knew when we came back here I had a lot to make up to you.”
This was a confusing conversation. Anatoly’s secrets had been exposed years ago. And yes, it was because of those secrets that I had faced some danger in Vegas and it’s what had brought Alex Kinsky temporarily into my world. But none of that had any relevance to what was going on right
now.
“You were right, I was in denial about London,” he continued. “Am I also in denial about us?”
I blanched, the words hitting me hard.
“After we got back from Vegas I thought you and I had reached a good place. We weren’t arguing anymore. We were being more open with one another. We seemed to be approaching a kind of stability I’ve never had with anyone.” He leaned forward, his eyes searching mine. “And now you seem intent on taking us backward.”
I pressed the palm of my hands into my legs. “I haven’t been writing,” I whispered.
He hesitated, his eyes lowering to the floor as if looking directly at me after such a confession was somehow disrespectful.. “I’ve wondered about that,” he finally said. “I didn’t want to ask or interfere with your process. And I’m sure the challenge of moving on from Alicia Bright is harder than it may seem to the outside world.”
He had known. He did see me and yet in some very important ways, he apparently still didn’t get me
“I hate stability,” I said, quietly. “I can’t abide safety. This peace you’re trying to bring into our home is destroying us.”
Anatoly gave me a wry smile. “Most people like peace.”
“We’re not most people. It’s not coincidence that we’ve spent most of our years together arguing. It’s not a flaw in our relationship, it is our relationship. I mean, okay, fine, you should have told me about your past. You seriously screwed up on that one. But you can’t change all the rules just because you took the game too far one time. I like that we’ve been arguing again lately…we just need to learn to keep those arguments within certain confines. We need the heat of the conflict without the venom. A relatively high degree of chaos works for us. How could you think otherwise?”
“We’ve been together almost a decade now,” Anatoly said, sounding worrisomely tired. “In that time we’ve both aged and possibly matured. Is it unreasonable that we might outgrow our taste for madness?”
I didn’t want to have this conversation anymore. I didn’t even know how to process it. Of course I knew one sure (and highly enjoyable) way out of it. My wince turned into a sly smile as he lifted his eyes back to mine. “If you want to slow down with age that’s on you. Me?” I got up and eased myself onto his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I’m clinging to the recklessness of my youth.”
Anatoly’s hand moved to my waist, the other to my thigh. I expected him to lean in and kiss me but he kept me waiting, his eyes moving over me. When he finally made eye contact again I thought I saw a touch of sadness. But it was then that he leaned in, his lips brushing against mine as he pulled me to him.
When he finally pulled back his expression was serious. “Tell me,” he said, his voice low, “what do you think happens when you build a house on lava?”
I bit down on my lower lip and let my hand move down his shirt, to the button on his jeans, lower still until I cupped him, feeling him harden and the denim fabric strain. “I can’t say for sure,” I said, softly. “My guess is things get really hot.”
Anatoly laughed and brought his mouth to the nape of my neck. He whispered something in Russian against my skin. I didn’t understand the words, but if I had to guess I’d say they translated into you’re impossible.
“Sunrises are the sunsets of masochists.”
--Dying To Laugh
When I opened my eyes the next morning Anatoly was crouched by the bed, his hand on my shoulder as he gently shook me awake. Shades of pink had slipped around the corners of our window shades giving everything a romantic glow. Mr. Katz was still at the foot of the bed, Ms. Dogz sitting in the doorway, a little bit of dog food on her nose making it clear that Anatoly had already fed her. I stared at the light through heavy lids. “We don’t get up until all the pretty colors in the sky are all gone,” I grumbled.
Anatoly smiled and kissed my cheek. “You can go back to sleep if you like. I need to get an early start on the day. There’s a lot I need to figure out. I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’re going to stay home today.”
I hesitated and then gave a small shake of my head…small because it’s very hard to shake your head without physically removing it from your pillow.
“That’s what I thought,” he sighed and then right on top of the bed where my right hand clutched the sheets, he lay down our gun.
Immediately I was sitting up, the sight of loaded steel in my bed having the effect of downing ten cups of coffee all at once. Mr. Katz lifted his head long enough to glare at me then immediately went back to sleep. Mr. Katz was very laisssez-faire about guns.
“Keep it on you,” Anatoly explained. “It’s the responsibility of those who covet danger to also prepare for it.”
“I don’t plan on coveting that much danger.” But then I thought about the note left on our door, then the Zipcar that had almost killed me. I took the gun in my hand. “I’ll keep it on me.”
“Thank you,” Anatoly sighed in relief. He got up and turned to leave.
“Anatoly?”
He stopped and turned back, raising his eyebrows expectantly.
“Is there something you’re not telling me?”
He looked at me, seemingly confused. “Like what?”
“Like about that guy who was killed in Golden Gate Park?”
His expression darkened. “Ah…it looks like that might have been gang related. The victim had tattoos that indicate he might have been part of a gang. It doesn’t fit with anything we’ve learned about London but…it’s important,” he said, almost more to himself than to me. He turned to leave.
“Anatoly,” I said, stopping him. “Any chance it’s a gang you’re familiar with?”
He paused a moment too long then said over his shoulder “The Russian mafia has had dealing with them in the past, back when I was working with them. But that was a long time ago. In and of itself it doesn’t mean anything. Regardless, it’s one of the things I’ll be looking into today.” He started to leave again.
“Anatoly?”
He laughed softly and turned back around again. “Yes?”
“Gundrun Volz’s assistant remembers London well. She…she was so sure his wife had died. And Gun didn’t even think London had a daughter. I’m not questioning the results of your research…but I tried to find Catherine online and…” I shook my head. “What kind of teenager doesn’t have any social media accounts?”
Anatoly reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He tapped the Facebook app, typed something in and then handed it over. There was a profile picture of Catherine on a private account. Her thick blonde hair hung over her shoulders and she wore a Victorian style nightgown as she stood in the middle of a stage, her arm flung out as she seemed to stare out at an audience. The name on her profile was Cat Jaynes.
“She’s on Instagram too, although both accounts are set to private,” Anatoly said. “Her legal name is Catherine London but on her social media...” he gestured to the screen rather than finish his sentence. “That’s why you couldn’t find her.”
“I am such an idiot,” I said, quietly. “Every time I talked to her she referred to herself as Cat. Although I wouldn’t have known to look for her under her mother’s maiden name.” I stared at the picture for a few more seconds. So she was really London’s daughter. But why didn’t anyone know about her? “She wants to meet,” I said, quietly. “I invited her to come here.”
Anatoly smiled. “Nice of you to volunteer that without my prying it out of you. I’ll come home for that. What time?”
“I don’t know, she never called me back to firm up the details and I haven’t been able to reach her since she proposed the meeting.”
Anatoly’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“I swear, I’m not keeping anything from you,” I said, stifling a yawn. “She may be blowing me off…she’s probably blowing me off. But if she does call me back, I’ll tell you, okay? If you promise not to try to control me I promise not to try to keep you in the d
ark about what’s going on. Fair?”
Anatoly’s mouth twisted into an amused grin. “Control you? It would be easier to control a hurricane. There’s coffee waiting downstairs.”
“Have I told you lately that I love you?”
He didn’t say anything but I could see the reciprocation in his eyes, right before he turned once again to leave. Ms. Dogz trotted after him, determined to see him out. Anatoly must have almost been at the top of the stairs when he called back to me, “Keep it on you.”
I reached out and let my fingers trace the ridges of the handgun. “I will,” I said softly although I knew he wouldn’t be able to hear me. I wouldn’t use it of course, but it did feel good to have it there.
I sighed and lay back down against the pillow, listening to the front door open and then close. It was so early but now I was so awake. How to use the time?
Eventually I convinced myself to get out from underneath the covers. With both Mr. Katz and Ms. Dogz tailing behind me I went to the kitchen and poured myself a cup of coffee.
“Why do you think Cat is using her mother’s maiden name?” I asked Mr. Katz.
Mr. Katz walked over to his food bowl and swished his tail letting me know that my questions were not his priority. I ushered Ms. Dogz into the backyard and then got the kitty kibble out of the pantry and poured her a bowl.
Maybe Cat was pissed at her father. If Anatoly was right about everything it would certainly appear that Anita and London had been separated for some time. Whatever it was that drove them apart, maybe Cat had sided with her mom.
I sipped at my coffee as I watched Mr. Katz eat. “I’m missing something,” I said aloud. Mr. Katz was still too busy eating to care.
I left him there and went into my office. I had the manila folders Jason had left for me. I flipped through them, paying particular attention to the personal notes. There was one line that I kept going back to:
I’ve been a husband to her in every way that matters.
That was a weird qualifier. In what ways hadn’t he been a husband to her?