She broke her jaw when a door hit her in the face before I was born, and the tooth went dark when she fell down some steps and banged it. She told me it happened one night when she was pregnant with me. Mama said she was very lucky she did not lose the tooth or me. She said I could have fallen right out of her stomach that night. I have put my finger in mama’s mouth and I know that the dark tooth is loose. It rocks in her jaw the way my front tooth did before I pulled it out.
‘You’re alive,’ I say in wonder and reach out to touch her swollen face.
‘Of course, I am,’ she smiles.
‘Mama your tooth!’ I gasp. There is a hole in her smile.
‘It’s gone,’ she says cheerfully. ‘I’m glad. It was rotten.’ She pushes her tongue through the gap. ‘It’s saved me a trip to the dentist.’
‘Does it hurt?’ I ask worriedly.
‘No. Not even a bit.’
I touch her broken lip. ‘Does this hurt?’
‘No. Some things look worse than they are.’
‘Shall we put a bandage on it, mama?’
‘No,’ mama says with a small laugh.
I stare at her. ‘Are you sure? It looks painful.’
‘Yes, I’m sure. You know I would never lie to you.’
I nod. That’s true. Mama never lies. ‘Where is papa?’ I whisper.
Her blue eyes look sad. ‘He’s gone out.’
‘Has he gone to work?’ My papa works odd hours. Before his accident, when he hurt his head and the doctors had to put metal plates in back of his head, he used to go away for days. Mama says he works for the government. She says what he does is secret, like James Bond, so we can never ever know where he goes. All my friends are frightened of my father. Their parents smile at me a lot, but they always look nervous when I am in their house.
‘Yes, I think so,’ mama says softly.
‘Is he still very angry with me, mama?’
‘Oh my dear, dear Aleksandr, he is not angry with you at all.’
‘Yes, he is. He thinks I’m a coward, because I cried. I tried not to cry, but I couldn’t help it, mama.’ The tears are trying to come, but I blink them away.
‘You’re not a coward, my little star. You are braver than most people I know.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, that is the absolute truth.’
‘But papa doesn’t think so.’
‘Papa loves you and just wants you to be a great fighter like him, but sometimes he can’t control his temper. He is not himself. It was accident. It changed him. Remember I told you about it.’
‘Yes, I remember.’
‘One day he will get better. You’ll see,’ she says.
‘I hope so.’
‘I know so,’ she says fiercely.
‘I’m sorry he hurt you, mama. It was my fault.’
‘He did not hurt me and it was not your fault. Never say that again.’ Mama smiles softly.
I nod. ‘Mama,’
‘Yes, my love.’
‘Maybe I shouldn’t start my training yet. Maybe we should wait until papa is better.’
Tears fill mama’s eyes. ‘I’m sorry, my darling, but you will have to train. You are a man now. Papa will expect it. It will only be once a week, maybe twice. It will get better. I promise.’
She lays a gentle hand on my ribs and I gasp with the terrible pain.
She pulls her hand away quickly. ‘Did I hurt you, lyubov moya?’
I shake my head. ‘No, mama. You’ve never ever hurt me.
Mama presses her lips together and her eyes are so sad I want to wrap her up in cotton wool and hide her in a place no one can ever find her.
‘Come we will play the piano together,’ she chokes out.
Slowly, very slowly, because I am in so much pain, I get out of bed and together we stand. She holds out her hand and I put mine in it. It is hard to take big breaths. We begin to walk out of the room and I see that she is limping.
I stop and look up at her anxiously. ‘Is your leg hurt, mama?’
‘No, lybo moya. I have a lazy leg. It just went to sleep. I feel no pain.’
‘Me too, mama. I feel no pain either.’
We sit at the piano together and mama looks at me. ‘What shall we play?’
‘You choose, mama.’
‘Shall we play something happy?’
‘Yes, let’s.’
‘How about Chopin’s Spring Waltz?’ she suggests brightly.
‘That’s a good idea, mama.’
‘Ready?’
‘Ready.’
We begin to play and music fills the air and enters my body. It is so beautiful tears roll down both our cheeks. This is the only time mama ever cries. We play happy songs and we cry and cry. We are allowed to because the music mama and I make together is so beautiful. So very beautiful. We can escape into it and say to each other what our lips dare not say.
Listen …
Six
Dahlia Fury
I am first to arrive at Jamie’s. Someone is having a birthday party and it is hot, crowded, and very noisy. Fortunately, a couple stand to leave just as we arrive and Noah immediately swoops down on their table even though they are still in the process of getting into their coats. The woman gives us a dirty look, but her man says nothing and avoids any eye contact with Noah.
‘Want me to get you something to drink?’ Noah offers when they are gone and I am seated.
‘Nah, I’ll wait until Stella gets here. Thanks,’ I say with a smile.
‘No problem. I’ll be over there at the bar,’ he says jerking his chin at one corner of the bar.
‘OK,’ I say.
Stella and I love coming here. It’s a bit of a dive but the booze is cheap, the atmosphere is great, it’s close to our apartment, we know the staff, they always play a fantastic selection of songs, and there is a small dance floor at the back that we always dance the night away on.
I am dressed in jeans, a pair of brown boots, and a emerald sweater, but Stella swans in dressed in a stripped black and white mini dress, a short white faux fur jacket, her new Jimmy Choos and her hair cut short and dyed Little Mermaid red. She looks stunning and heads are turning all over the place.
‘Jesus, Stel. Your hair,’ I squeal, standing up to greet her.
She strikes a pose and tosses her head this way and that so I get to see her new hairstyle from all angles.
‘You look like a freaking star,’ I tell her.
‘Don’t I just?’ she mouths, grinning cockily.
‘And what have you done with your face?’ I ask. ‘Your skin is glowing.’
‘Honey, baking soda, and lime juice mask,’ she throws nonchalantly as she air-kisses my cheeks. I watch her put her purse on the table, slide into her seat, and fix me with stern, narrowed eyes. ‘You don’t look so hot though. What’s with you?’
‘Tell you in a minute. First, what are we drinking?’
‘Who’s paying?’
I grin. ‘Not us.’
Her eyes shine. ‘Bubbles have no calories, have they?’ she asks impishly.
‘Absolutely not. They are just round bits of clean air covered with a negligible film of champagne,’ I say virtuously.
‘In that case,’ she says with matching virtuousness, ‘we really should be good and stick to bubbles.’
‘Excellent choice, Miss Spencer. I’ll nip over to the bar and get it, and in the meantime you can go say hello to Noah. He’s over there.’ I nod towards the edge of the bar where Noah is nursing a bottle of beer.
Stella jumps up and practically skips over to him. I watch her throw her arms around his neck like a big kid and wonder what to make of this new fun and full of joie de vivre version of Stella. It is like the girl I met for lunch the other day is a totally different person. Then I suddenly remember that she used to be like this when I first met her, before she started crushing on Zane and going about with a long, depressed face.
Andy, the barman looks surprised when I order champagne. ‘Cel
ebrating?’ he asks.
‘Just treating ourselves,’ I reply.
He finds a bottle at the back of a fridge, plunks it into a narrow plastic bucket, and pushes it and two glasses towards me. I pay him and carrying my loot, I go over to where Noah and Stella are standing. Stella has one hip pushed out provocatively and Noah’s eyes are roaming her body as he talks to her.
‘Want to join us, Noah?’ I ask.
‘No, I’m all right. You girls go ahead and have fun.’
‘You sure, big boy?’ Stella pouts.
He looks her up and down, his eyes assessing in the way only a man’s can be. ‘Don’t play with fire, babe.’
Stella takes my wrist in her hand. ‘Ooooo, promises, promises,’ she taunts cheekily and starts walking backwards away from him.
He just shakes his head and turns back to his beer.
‘Why are you flirting with Noah like that?’ I ask when we get back to our table.
Stella shrugs. ‘Just something to do, I guess.’
‘What?’
‘Well he’s hotter than a brick shit house, but he’s always so controlled and professional I kind of like provoking him to see how far I can go before he snaps,’ she says giving a sly sideways glance in his direction.
‘But wouldn’t you like to date him though?’ I persist hopefully.
‘I never really thought about it, but I don’t think I’m his type.’
I look at her curiously. ‘How do you know you’re not?’
‘Come on. When a man really wants you it oozes out of his pores.’
‘I don’t know. From what I saw he seems to like you well enough,’ I say, tearing the foil on the champagne bottle.
‘Enough is the key clue. I don’t want enough. I want desperately, can’t live without, dying for, madly, deeply, etc. etc. You know, the kind of stuff you have with Zane.’
I ease the cork out with a quiet pop. ‘What should we drink to?’ I ask.
‘Hot men,’ she says with an impish grin.
I fill our glasses and we clink glasses.
‘Hot men,’ we say in unison and giggling like two naughty schoolgirls let the bubbles slide down our throats.
‘Oh God, yes. Mmmm … Heaven,’ Stella moans and rapidly flutters her eyelashes to indicate just how blissed she is with the taste.
‘Come on tell me how your date went.’
She pulls a face. ‘Ugh … he was an insufferable idiot.’
‘Really? What did he do?’
She leans in. ‘He asked me out to a restaurant and proceeded to gobble up everything in sight including my leftovers. I swear he was like a bloody turkey. When he was not eating he was boasting about himself. Brag, brag, brag. How much money he had. How good he was at his job. How much property he owned. God, you should have heard him. Anyone would have thought I was sitting with Warren Buffet.’
I smile at her.
‘Honestly, I’ve come to the conclusion every father should tell his son what my granddad told my brother. When a man starts bragging he’s compensating for something small between his legs. The consequence of that small heart to heart between my granddad and brother is: my brother never brags.’
She pauses to take a sip.
‘Then, when this turkey had just about talked my head off he called for the bill and started tapping and fumbling about in every pocket he could find on himself.
So I was sitting there watching him and,’ she taps her hair, ‘you know the brain underneath all this pretty, was going, oooo this guy must think I fell off an Irish turnip truck.’
I start giggling. I can almost picture the scene.
‘After he had tapped the shit of all his pockets he looked at me all innocent and astonished and told me he must have left his wallet in the side pocket of his car door. Then came the big ask: would I be so kind as to get the meal first and he would see me all right later? Mind you, it wasn’t like it was an expensive place or anything.’
‘What did you do?’ I ask her.
‘I looked him in the eye smiled really seductively and said, “You run along and get your wallet and I’ll wait right for you, honey.”
‘Wow, you’re really brave to call him out like that. If someone did that to me, I’d just pay for the meal and never take his calls again.’
‘No way. I’m a pretty laid back person, somebody calls me a bitch and I’m like, true, but I’m not down with what he did. Paying for that meal would have been encouraging him to go out and do that to another poor girl. It was a matter of principle,’ she says firmly.
‘And just in case he was planning on doing a runner, I scratched the inside of his thigh and told him I had something super special planned for him when we got back to my place. To seal the deal I looked at him as if he was going to get the best damn sex of his life.’
‘Stop, you’re killing me,’ I say.
‘What a blinking idiot. He actually thought he could stiff me with the bill. I mean, I’m all for women’s lib and everything.’
She takes a sip of champagne.
‘I hate a man opening a door for me as much as the next girl. Not. But for fucks sake don’t invite me out for dinner and then pretend you’ve left your wallet in the car.’
‘So did he come back with his wallet?’
‘Of course he did. He was out of that restaurant like a bat out o hell and back in six minutes.’ She toggles her eyebrows meaningfully. You have no idea how powerful my thigh scratch is.’
‘So he drove you home …’
‘At breakneck speed.’
‘And then?’
‘And then … I got out of the car and told him the next time he decides to be such a cheapskate he should just suck his own dick.’
Seven
Dahlia Fury
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XZGwHtGBZJU
‘Well, you must teach me that thigh scratch of yours,’ I tell Stella when I stop laughing.
She looks at me with bright, inquisitive eyes. ‘Why? It doesn’t look like you need me to teach you anything.’
To my surprise I flush bright red.
Scenting good gossip, she leans forward eagerly. ‘Oh my God! Look at you. You’re redder than my hair. I want to know everything that’s going on with you.’
‘It’s just hot in here,’ I say taking a gulp of champagne.
‘Oh no, you don’t get off so easy,’ she threatens. ‘I’ll be needing details. You know, stuff like measurements, girth, frequency of emissions. The lot!’
‘I thought you didn’t want to know.’
‘Well that was before I quit making a fool of myself.’
‘Huh?’
‘Yeah. I suddenly realized that Zane and you hooking up was the best thing that happened to me. You were right all along when you told me to let it go and move on. I can’t believe I let myself get so down over him. For fucks sake the guy didn’t even know I existed and there I was wasting my life away waiting for him to notice me. Me? Super duper delicious me. It was almost as if I was under a spell. And now when I look back I’m like …’ she pulls back as if in horror. ‘I did that.’ She jerks even further back. ‘I said that.’ Then she slaps herself comically. ‘God, I was such a sad bitch I want to send myself a sympathy card.’
I can’t stop grinning. ‘Oh Stella, I’m so happy you’ve moved on. You can’t imagine how bad I felt about Zane and me.’
She winks. ‘Yes, I realized you must have been really sorry: the bathroom never looked so clean during that period.’
I look shamefaced. ‘So you forgive me?’
She reaches out and grasps my hand. ‘There’s nothing to forgive, babe. It’s not like you broke up my happy meal, or anything. I was so miserable when I thought I was in love. Now when I look back I only see how completely stupid it all was. Why would anyone do that to themselves unless they were masochistic? And everybody knows I’m not. I love myself.’
‘I am actually really proud of you. I like this new and shiny Stella,’ I say smiling happily at h
er. In truth I am very relieved and impressed by how fast she has turned the corner on her infatuation.
She beams back. ‘Well, join the club. I’m really proud of myself too. Now, enough about me. How big is Zane, really? Every queen needs a king size and I’m not talking about no bed.’
I laugh.
‘Give me details, woman,’ she demands.
‘OK, are you ready for this?’
‘Shoot.’
‘I got to practice what we learned at the blowjob course.’
Her jaw drops. ‘You swallowed?’ she splutters.
I nod calmly.
She slaps her thigh. ‘What happened to discreetly spitting while pretending to swallow?’
I shrug. ‘I couldn’t help it. It was rather delicious.’
She gasps. ‘Never. You fucking liar. Spunk is not delicious.’
I grin. ‘Actually it was.’
‘Forget it. Nobody, not even you, is ever going to convince me that sperm is delicious.’
I chuckle at Stella’s expression. ‘I think I wanted to because I’m so crazy about him.’
Stella leans forward, fascinated. ‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah,’ I say.
‘Wow! You’re really falling for him, aren’t you?’
‘I’m not falling for him. I think I’ve already fallen.’
Stella is staring at me in astonishment. I know now would be a good time to drop the bombshell about Daisy. I’ve never been any good at keeping secrets, and anyway, I want her to know. Before Zane came into our lives we always told each other everything and I don’t want that to change. However, I already know exactly how she will react and I feel a little nervous flutter in my stomach.
‘I want to tell you something, but I don’t want to you overreact,’ I tell her.
‘Me overreact. When have I ever overreacted?’
I raise my eyebrows and look at her with a come-on-it’s-me-you’re-talking-to expression.
‘Don’t worry I won’t.’
I look at her warningly.
‘All right. All right. I promise not to. Go on, spit it out.’
You Don't Own Me: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (The Russian Don Book 2) Page 4