Sex, Lies & Nikolai

by R. J. Lewis

  Benji turns his attention to me and grips me by the arm tightly. “Don’t ever owe him anything, Alina. You understand? You don’t want to ever be in a position you have to pay him back for anything. Promise me.”

  I nod, certain after last night the only position I’ll ever be with Nikolai is on the receiving end of money. “I promise.”

  He lets go, nodding. “Good.”

  I expect him to drop the subject, but he doesn’t. It’s actually a relief when shoppers start flooding through the door because I’m tired of hearing how obsessed Nikolai must be with him. It’s preposterous, I know that, but Benji is convinced and I can’t tell him otherwise without revealing myself.

  To help ease his pain, I pull out an ice cream from the freezer and press it against his face. Every time it starts to thaw, I replace the ice cream with another one. He tries to act stoic, like it doesn’t hurt in the slightest, but he’s not fooling anybody. “I’m strong,” he repeats, shrugging like the beating is the most casual thing he’s ever endured. “It doesn’t hurt, Alina. Really.”

  I resist rolling my eyes as I currently press the ice cream sandwich against his bruised cheek. I do this because I know he won’t. “You’re so tough, Benji,” I say, stroking his ego because it makes me want to laugh. “So tough.”

  He nods, solemnly. “I don’t try to be.”

  “I know. You can’t help the way you are.”

  “It’s a curse I have to carry.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek, doing what I can not to burst into laughter. The chime sounds behind us, and when Benji looks over my shoulder, his entire body goes still. I don’t have to look to know it’s Nikolai. I can feel the shift in the air long before I turn to confirm it’s him.

  “You can go,” I whisper to Benji.

  “I owe him nothing,” he harshly whispers back, though I can see under that false bravado he’s scared shitless.

  I drop my hand from his face and finally turn around. Nikolai’s showered and changed into another suit, though it looks almost identical to the one he fucked me in last night. He looks refreshed, not one bit tired as he strolls into the store. He’s a mutant. I’m certain of it. Nobody looks this good on such little sleep. Hell, I look positively androgynous.

  He doesn’t get juice. Instead, he comes straight to the counter and looks between us. He removes his sunglasses, his eyes on the ice cream I have pressed against Benji’s face. A smirk flashes across his lips as he looks over at him.

  “Nice face,” Nikolai remarks dryly.

  Benji’s stoic expression falls, and I feel a pang in my chest for the guy. He gives me a final look, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and then he turns and scurries to the backroom.

  I glower at Nikolai. “You hurt him.”

  “He hurt himself,” he replies back steadfastly.

  “He would have paid you back.”

  Why am I so angry at him? I shouldn’t be surprised. I guess I just never expected someone I know to be hurt by him.

  Nikolai’s lips tighten. “Why are you so concerned over that man?”

  “He’s my friend.”

  “He’s a coward. Your sympathy is misplaced.”

  “I’ll worry about where to place my sympathy,” I bite back.

  Nikolai gives me a strange look and I instantly feel foolish. I don’t know why I’m being difficult. I know Benji was given a lot of chances, and I know through Ivan he was too afraid to face Nikolai. So why am I defending him?

  Because you want to hate Nikolai. You want to find a reason to stop feeling the things you do.

  I grit my teeth, ignoring that thought as I press out, “What do you want?”

  “Smokes,” Nikolai answers, watching me intently.

  I grab the brand he buys. It’s been a long time since he’s bought cigarettes. He slides the exact amount of money across the counter, and I take it, expecting him to remove his hand before I reach it, but he doesn’t. Our fingers touch, and I pause longer than I should. I have this urge to run them over his, to be licked by his skin because it feels so nice to be touched by him.

  Rattled, I withdraw my hand like I’ve been burned and bag the carton and his receipt, all the while conscious of him studying me throughout. He saw my hesitation. My immediate withdrawal from him. My inability to look him in the eyes. I must appear deranged. This whole thing feels different. Before, our exchange felt exciting and innocent, and now it feels like the weight of a thousand burning suns.

  He’s tempting me. The devil that he is. I can’t get the image of his face and body over me out of my head. Being near him like this makes what we did last night feel like it happened seconds ago. It’s all so raw and fresh. My sensitive flesh still throbs, and it hurts when it does because he bruised me in the most delicious way.

  “Are you okay?” His voice is quiet, his face gentle as he waits for me to respond.

  I know he’s referring to last night. “Yes,” I breath out, forcing myself to look back at him, no matter how hot it makes my skin.

  “You found my envelope?”

  I nod, swallowing thickly. “Yes.”

  His gaze burns. “Are you happy with it?” He asks the question like he’s desperate to know. Like he cares more than anything for my answer.

  I glance over my shoulder, making sure Benji isn’t nearby, and then I nod again without speaking. If Nikolai is satisfied, he doesn’t show it.

  I feel restless, uneasy. I whored myself to him. Dear god, I actually sold my body to him and I liked it. What kind of person does that make me? What must he think of me? Am I easy? Someone not worth chasing because I’ll just put out?

  “Hey.” His fingers suddenly trap my chin, forcing me to look at him from across the counter. “Relax.”

  I stare into his blue eyes and soften. His thumb brushes over the cut on my lower lip, pressing delicately at it. He’s giving it attention, and it makes me realize not even Benji asked about it. He’d been so enveloped in his own grief, he probably hadn’t even noticed it was there. But with Nikolai, it’s at the forefront of his thoughts. He looks at it like it twists him.

  He drops his hand, his jaw tensing. “Franco won’t come near you. I made sure of it.”

  I blink hard, astonished. “When did you make sure of it?”

  “This morning.”

  “You act fast.”

  “Only when it’s something I want.”

  Jesus, why is my heart pounding? One second he’s hurting Benji and I’m angry at him for it, and the next second he’s taking care of Franco so he won’t come after me over what I did. I wish this man was black and white, but there are so many conflicting sides to him.

  It takes me several moments just to get the words out of my mouth. “Thank you, Nikolai.”

  He looks at me for a moment, giving me that look – the one that makes me weak in the knees. The one that makes me feel like he’s looking at the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

  “I’d like to see you again, Alina.” The words are spoken wantonly, and it rips me wide open.

  He waits expectantly for me to reply, but I’m warring with myself. I’m conflicted over what I did, and confused that I want to do it again, and not just for money reasons, but for the way it felt. And that’s the scary thing. He holds too much power over me, over my body, and I don’t know what that means. Because while he’s giving me all the power, I know I won’t feel it when he’s touching me again. That kind of surrender frightens the shit out of me.

  Sensing my indecision, he takes the bag and settles the shades back over his eyes. “You know where to find me.” He pauses and sighs, tensing his jaw before adding, “Do svidanya, rybka.”

  “Do svidanya, Nikolai,” I reply for the first time ever. I don’t know what pushed me to say it, and I feel timid as hell after it’s out.

  His body stills, a soft smile stretching across his face. God, he’s handsome. I can’t help the smile forming at my lips, and when he sees it he curses quietly in Russian. The last thing
he says to me right before he leaves is, “You are trouble for me, Alina. You should stay away.”

  Even I can detect the seriousness in his words. He’s right, I should stay away. But I know he doesn’t want me to. And no matter how conflicted I feel, I don’t think I want to either.

  I watch him leave, despair already intact as the distance between us grows bigger with every step he takes. I picture him a spider, trapping me to his web and making off again, leaving me stuck and bound, waiting for his return. To feast on me. To finish me off. It’s a macabre thought, but it’s strangely the only accurate way I can describe the trapped feeling I get when I ponder the thought of not going back to him.

  I know I will.

  I know it’s inevitable.

  My skin prickles to be touched.

  And then I lie to myself again just to feel better.

  You’re doing this for money. You want to get out of the Estate and give Scarlett a better future? Put up with Nikolai, save, and then get the hell out.

  Chapter Sixteen.

  If I was seeking a sign to stay away from Nikolai, I receive it the next morning on my trip to the bathroom. The toilet paper is spotted with blood, and cramps invade my lower stomach, these painful knife-like jabs that have me hissing through my teeth.

  I have awful periods. The heavy bleeding kind where clots are so big they’re the size of golf balls, and I get so dizzy I can barely concentrate. I suspect I’m anaemic, though I’ve yet to have it confirmed because I’ve avoided doctors like the plague. A big fat expensive plague that runs me fifty dollars a visit. And who has fifty dollars of spare coin lying around? Rich people.

  Despite all this, I’m elated at the sight of blood. I’d pushed it to the back of my mind the morning I woke up after sleeping with Nikolai. He’d fucked me unprotected. It was such a traumatizing thought, wondering if I’d fall pregnant. I don’t want kids. I never wanted kids. I could never justify bringing a child into this kind of struggle. I can hardly feed Scarlett, let alone myself. I did a very, very bad thing. A mindless thing. An insanely daft, unimpressive thing. I’m annoyed Nikolai was careless about it too. I want to blame him more because he was the one to stick it in, but that would be utterly foolish.

  My fingers shake with relief as I stand up, insert a tampon, and wash my hands. My body feels slow and lethargic. I feed and drop Scarlett off earlier than usual so I can have time to swing by the post office before work. Then I make the trek there and pay the bills. It chews through most of the money straight away, and that puts a limp in my step.

  I just can’t win, can I?

  When I get to work, groggy and tired, I’m not in the mood to talk. I’m especially peeved when I find Oksana at the counter, tapping away at her phone while she chews obnoxiously loud on her gum.

  “Where’s Benji?” I ask her.

  “He’s in too much pain,” she answers without looking. “Something about getting a beating the other night.”

  I want to roll my eyes at her blasé mood. “Don’t you care he’s hurt?”

  She shrugs. “He’s an idiot. Shouldn’t have messed with the wrong people.”

  “Stop with the sympathy, you’re killing me already.”

  She pauses and looks up at me. “Why do you care anyway? Got a thing for him or something?”

  “No, caring is just something decent people do once in a while. It’s hard to understand at times, I know.”

  Her cheeks redden, and she looks about ready to have a go at me. Before she does, the entrance opens and a familiar face comes in. The second my eyes connect to Natasha, my spine straightens as she comes storming to me, her face wild with anger.

  Shit, I’m about to eat my words.

  “What have you done, Alina?!” she shouts.

  On reflex, I turn my head to the backroom where Ivan is. “Nat –”

  “You threw me under the bus! You know the shit I’ve had to cop since you walked out on me?”

  “Please, stay quiet.”

  “Quiet?” she repeats in disbelief. “I put my neck out for you!”

  I quickly move around the counter, take her by the arm and try to steer her to the entrance, hoping we can take this conversation outside. Not even three steps in, she tears her hand away and stands her ground, glaring at me with her deep green eyes.

  “You fucked me over,” she says, voice breaking. Tears spring to her eyes and I feel like an absolute cunt. “You ditched me.”

  “I’m sorry,” I quickly tell her. “I’m so sorry, Nat. I tried. I thought I could do it –”

  “Franco took my entire cut for that night, and the rest of the bleeding week. Then he gets his ass kicked by Nikolai, which I suspect has something to do with you! I’m fucked. You weren’t the only person with mouths to feed, Alina! What the fuck am I gonna do? I have a sick mother who needs treatments, while you’re bitching about a few bills? You want to see the thousands of dollars I’ve racked up with the wrong people? Huh?”

  I wring my hands together, distraught. I was so focused on my own shit, I barely thought of what might happen to her. I’m a horrible, terrible friend. “I didn’t think he’d punish you,” I tell her contritely. “I really didn’t, Nat. I’m so sorry.”

  She scoffs. “Sorry? Will sorry pay for my rent, Alina? Will sorry fix how pissed Franco is at me? Go fuck your sorry!”

  I deserve that.

  She turns to leave, but I take her by the arm again. “Nat, stop. I’ll make it up to you.”

  “You can’t make it up to me –”

  “How much do you need?”

  “What?”

  “How much money do you need right now?”

  She stills, looking me over with confusion. “What are you talking about? You have nothing. You came to me because you have nothing!”

  Shit, she just won’t keep her voice down. I look over my shoulder and at Oksana, still chewing her gum but slowly now as she sucks up the scene before her. The backroom is still shut, no Ivan in sight. Looking back at Natasha, I steer her forcibly out of the store and onto the sidewalk outside. With no overhead cover, the sun’s heat is so debilitating.

  “Nat,” I start, meeting her pissed eyes, “I can help you. I’ve got some money. What do you need to make your rent?”

  She scoffs again, looking utterly sceptical. “How much do I need? Five hundred dollars, Alina. Where you gonna dredge that up? You gonna rob it from Ivan –”

  As she talks, I’m already pulling out the wad of cash from my pocket. Immediately her mouth clamps shut as she watches me in awe count through the hundred dollar notes. I shove the little remainder back into my pocket, take her hand into my own and slam the five hundred there.

  “Take it,” I tell her firmly. “I’m so sorry, okay? Take it.”

  Her fingers wrap around the cash, but she continues to stare, dumbstruck. “How…?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “Alina –”

  “I hate what I did, and I’m so fucking sorry.”

  Her face softens. “You took a loan from Nikolai, didn’t you? That’s why he went around to Franco, to look after his debt.”

  I don’t respond. If I make her think that way, it’s better than the alternative.

  “I don’t want this,” she says, softly now. “You’ll just be in more trouble.”

  “I’m fine,” I tell her quickly. “There’s more where that came from.” That’s a lie, but it might make her take it.

  She looks back at the cash and then around the sidewalk, cautious of catching anyone’s attention. Then she pockets it and I apologize again. “Stop, Alina. It’s fine, alright? Just…don’t ask for my help again.” She shoots me a weak smile that puts me at ease just a little bit.

  “I won’t,” I promise.

  We stand there awkwardly, and then she asks, “How are you?”

  There’s actual interest in her question. It’s the first time I feel like catching up with a friend. I want to crumble and unload. To confide in an old friend and tell
her how fucked things have been. But I know Natasha is enduring her own trials, and I don’t want to seem selfish by making her hear my woes that probably pale in comparison to hers.

  “Fine,” I answer weakly. “How’s your mum?”

  Her lips twist, and she wretchedly looks down at the ground, kicking at an invisible rock. “Fine.”

  “Did…Did Franco hurt you for what I did?” The question is harder to push out than I thought. Truth is, I’m terrified of knowing.

  “He doesn’t hurt me physically,” she explains vaguely. “Franco’s punishments are different.”

  “What does that mean?”

  She just shakes her head. “I don’t want to talk about it, Lee.”

  Lee. My old nickname she’d given me since we were twelve. It feels like another lifetime since I heard it. I let out a sharp breath, sticking to safe topics now. The chat is quick and empty, but we’re on good terms by the end. She even gives me a hug, and the contact is so nice, it forms a knot in my throat.

  I feel for the last of the money in my pocket as I watch her leave. In one day I have spent more money than I have ever spent in my life. The result makes my stomach queasy with stress. I harden and breathe through my nose, trying not to think of what else will come crashing down.

  Seems like the second you have a bit of money the forces in this world want to rip it out of your hands.

  I go back inside and Oksana is blowing bubbles, watching me with this wry expression. “Carry on,” she tells me wickedly as I move around the counter. “Tell me more about these decent people, Alina.”

  I give her a cold look but I don’t answer.

  *

  Nikolai arrives mid-morning, looking impeccable and handsome as ever. He doesn’t belong in this shithole, so why does he keep coming back to it?

  His eyes search me out instantly. He smiles when he catches sight of me, and because my heart rate picks up I glare at him in return. Goddamn the way he makes me feel! Goddamn this heart for being so stupidly weak! His smile wavers a little, and he tilts his head to the side, brows pinched together in thought as he tries to determine what’s wrong.