Alexei

by Roxie Rivera

  Her bad decisions had nearly gotten me raped and killed. They’d put my best friend and the man I had fallen hopelessly and irrevocably in love with in danger. I was just so sick and tired of it all.

  “You okay?” Kylee touched my foot with hers. “You look like you’re in La-La Land.”

  “Just thinking,” I said with a little smile.

  “About?”

  “Things,” I said, deliberately evasive.

  She let it go and returned her attention to her magazine. I leaned forward and reached into my purse to retrieve a small notebook I kept there and a pencil. While my color processed, I sketched out an idea I had for a gift I wanted to make Alexei. That wallet of his needed replacing.

  As I drew lines on the paper, I overheard the redhead talking to her stylist about her weekend plans. They sure sounded more interesting than mine. She was headed to Vegas this evening and apparently had plans to meet up with an old flame. I couldn’t imagine what man would have let a knockout like that walk out of his life. She seemed nice and funny and obviously had her act together considering the way she talked about her back-to-back appointments with her realty clients.

  Kylee tapped my foot when the redhead left the color bar. “What do you think?”

  “About?”

  “You. Me. Vegas.”

  It was an interesting thought. “I’m listening.”

  “I’d be willing to work some overtime for a girls-only getaway.” She smiled slyly. “You’d have to ask that Russian honey of yours for an advance on your allowance.”

  “Keep that up and I’ll go to Vegas alone with my Russian honey.”

  Kylee pouted dramatically as Nisha returned. She checked my foils and said, “Looks good. Let’s get you to the sink for a rinse and some toner.”

  I trailed Nisha to the wall of sinks along the far right side of the salon. The chair she directed me to was surprisingly comfortable. Eyes closed, I enjoyed the sensation of a warm shampoo and strong fingers massaging my scalp. After a good rinse, she applied the toner and left me to process for a few more minutes. I listened to the conversations around me and picked up on the redhead’s voice again.

  “He called me this morning—out of the blue—and told me he wanted to get together to talk about a piece of property in his portfolio. We’re meeting at his place in a few hours.”

  “Uh-huh,” her stylist said with a laugh. “Sounds to me like he’s looking for a reason to get you alone again.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Are you interested in rekindling things with him?”

  “I don’t know,” the redhead replied quietly. “We had a good thing when we were together, but he’s not a long-term commitment type. He knows how to make a woman feel good. I mean, that man did things to my body that still make me blush and ache!”

  The stylist laughed. “Oh, I remember those stories quite well.”

  “I’m ready to settle down, but I’m perfectly happy enjoying his company and no-strings attached sex until a better offer comes my way.”

  “All right, hon,” Nisha said as she approached me from the side. “Let’s get you rinsed.”

  A few minutes later, I sat in front of a mirror while Nisha combed out my freshly colored hair. We chatted while she snipped and texturized. It turned out that we had both lived in the same neighborhoods at different times. I had a feeling we had more in common than just crappy apartments and ramshackle houses.

  As she gave me the best blowout of my life, I noticed Nisha staring at the barely visible marks on my neck. The bruise on my cheek had been easier to hide and camouflage than the ones of my neck. It didn’t help that Alexei had made a habit of marking me with love bites. It was obvious by the taut line of her mouth what she thought. I hoped she wouldn’t say anything, but I wasn’t getting off that easy today.

  “Listen,” Nisha said as she walked me to the spa area of the salon for my remaining appointments, “I’m going to get in your business for a second. Please understand that I’m only doing it because I’ve been there.”

  We stopped in a quiet, private alcove, and I quickly said, “It’s not what you think.”

  “Oh, honey,” she said with a sad smile, “it’s exactly what I think. Believe me. I know the signs all too well. I spent most of my teenage years and my early twenties hiding bruises from my boyfriend-turned-husband. You do not have to stay with a man who hits you. I can help you. I know people who specialize in this kind of thing.”

  “They’re not from my partner,” I said calmly. “But thank you for offering to help me. That’s very kind of you.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Those bruises came from a man. I know the span of a man’s fingertips when I see them.”

  “You’re right. They are.” Carefully, I explained, “My sister got into some trouble with some very dangerous people. I became collateral damage.”

  Her tense expression relaxed. “I know about that, too,” she said sadly. “My ex-husband used to run drugs and guns with Lalo Contreras. He screwed up a deal and I’m the one who paid for it.”

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that.” After my run-ins with Lalo, I could only imagine what horrible things he had done to Nisha. “I know what he can be like.”

  A look of understanding passed between us.

  “If you need some help, I know some people who can take care of that for you.”

  “It’s been handled,” I assured her.

  “If you need protection, it can be bought. My uncle is Nicky Jackson. I can tell by the look on your face that you know what that means.”

  “I don’t need to buy it. Alexei already has.”

  “Alexei?” Her eyebrows arched with surprise. “Wait. Do you mean Alexei Sarnov? The Russian with all the dealerships and trucking companies?”

  “Yes.”

  Nisha glanced back at the salon. “Your relationship is kind of new?”

  “Yes. Why?” Nisha bit her lower lip. I sensed she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure if it was her place. Wondering what she knew, I asked, “What is it that you think I need to know?”

  “I think—”—she looped her arm through mine and patted my hand in a motherly gesture—“—that you need to be very careful with your heart, sugar. You need a plan. You need to know how to get in and how to get out of a relationship with a man like that. Take advantage of whatever perks he offers you—jewelry, cars, money. You hoard it. Put it away some place safe. Someday, you’ll need it to start the next chapter of your life. Enjoy him while you have him, but keep one foot out the door. You’ll be glad you were prepared when the Cinderella story comes to an end, sweetheart.”

  Dazed by her advice, I didn’t know what to say as she handed me off to the aesthetician. I managed a smile for her but inside I was a mess. Nisha didn’t strike me as the type of woman to give advice like that just to be cruel. So what did she know about Alexei that I didn’t?

  As I endured the uncomfortable sting of having my eyebrows tidied up, I felt the worst churning in my stomach. How many of Alexei’s girlfriends had come to this salon? Was I going to be the newest bit of gossip among the stylists? Would I become known as Alexei’s hot new thing?

  Stop, I thought insistently. Just stop.

  There was no doubt in my mind that Alexei cared deeply for me. Our relationship was different than all the others. Wasn’t it?

  “Why don’t you take a look in the mirror?” Emily suggested after she finished plucking a few strays. “You have a very nice natural brow shape so I just cleaned them up for you.”

  Shaken from my troubled thoughts, I hopped off the table and walked over to the full-length mirror attached to the adjacent wall. I checked out her work and smiled. “They look great.”

  “I’m glad you like them. Would like to add on any other waxing services?”

  “Not today.” The last thing I wanted was some stranger I hardly knew getting up close and personal with my lady parts.

  “Would you like me to make a note about a return appoin
tment? I usually see my eyebrow clients on a three to four week schedule.”

  I considered my normal plucking routine. “We should probably aim for three weeks.”

  “Okay. I’ll make a note, and Billie or one of the other front desk girls will get you scheduled.” She gestured to the door. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to your manicure and pedicure appointment.”

  The quiet, relaxing hallway lined with rooms used by aestheticians and massage therapists led to a bright and open space where clients were pampered used by the nail technicians. Large potted palms filled the corners of the room and gauzy drapes gave the wall of pedicure chairs a luxury cabana feel.

  Unlike the usual black pedicure chairs I was used to at the nail salons I had always visited, the chairs here were a creamy leather and had adjustable tabletops and shelves along each side for holding purses and shoes. Instead of black plastic foot baths, these chairs were attached to mosaic-tiled basins with gleaming faucets.

  Emily led me to the kaleidoscope shelves lined with nail polish bottles and then wished me a good day before grabbing her next client from the spa waiting area. There were so many colors I wasn’t sure where to start.

  “Try a plum shade,” a woman suggested from behind me. “It’s a hot color for the fall.”

  Turning toward the sound of her voice, I discovered a dark-haired woman close to my age seated in a pedicure chair soaking her feet. She had one hand resting on a very prominent baby bump while the other held a home décor magazine. Diamonds glinted on her hands and ears as she added, “You should try the shellac.” She flashed her paint-stained fingertips at me. “It’s good for girls like us who work with our hands.”

  Bewildered, I asked, “How do you know I work with my hands?”

  Her mouth slanted with amusement. “We haven’t met, but we actually run in some of the same circles and have some of the same friends in common.”

  “Oh?”

  “Hadley, Kylee, Alexei,” she ticked off three names. “And, of course, my husband, Nikolai…” She held my gaze, and it was clear in that moment that she knew everything. “He speaks very highly of you.”

  Of course. I recognized her finally. Black hair. Blue eyes. Pigment-stained fingers. Vivian Valero.

  Well. Kalasnikov now.

  She was right. We did have friends in common. Kylee and Hadley had known each other when they were younger. Hadley had become one of her loyal customers, buying four or five of Kylee’s designs every year. She also carried one of my tote bags and a hobo-style handbag. A few times, she had asked me to visit her art center to teach leather working classes.

  With a gentle smile, Vivian touched the seat next to her. “Pick out your color and come sit next to me.”

  Like her husband, Vivian was not the kind of person I could refuse. “All right.”

  Taking her advice, I chose a deep plum shade with a hint of sparkle. Mandy, the nail technician assigned to me, seemed to approve the choice. She guided me to the chair next to Vivian. She offered me another mimosa but I turned it down in favor of a cup of tea.

  “That’s a beautiful bag. Is that one of your designs?” Vivian gestured to my handbag sitting on the shelf of the chair.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve actually been looking for something similar to that for a diaper bag. I want a leather tote but with more structure, you know? And with pockets and compartments.”

  “I made a bag similar to that a few months ago.” I reached into my purse for my phone and started scrolling through the photos in my Dropbox app. When I found the right one, I showed it to her. “Something like this?”

  “Yes!” She scrolled between the photos. “Exactly like this! But maybe in a brown leather? I’m not really a fan of black.”

  “All of my handbags are made-to-order. I can do any color you like.”

  “Do you have a shop?”

  “I work out of my house right now. Well,” I corrected myself, “I’m working out of Alexei’s house at the moment.”

  “Oh! Well that works nicely. We live a few blocks away. I can pop over sometime if that’s okay.”

  “It’s definitely okay.”

  Vivian sipped from a water bottle and shifted in her chair. She swirled her feet through the hot water. “I work from home now. It’s nice. I like being able to just walk downstairs and go to work, especially lately when I’m up all night with heartburn and insomnia.”

  As she rubbed her pregnant stomach, I was struck by the realization that we weren’t that far apart in age. Seeing her so obviously happy about starting a family left me feeling conflicted and maybe even a bit envious. Alexei and I had been playing a dangerous game together, forgetting to use protection more often than not. Even though my usual cravings for salt and the discomfort of sore breasts seemed to confirm Aunt Flo’s impending visit, there was always the slimmest possibility that I was wrong. It didn’t scare me nearly as much as it should have.

  “Where is your shadow?”

  “My shadow?”

  Vivian smiled as if we shared a secret. “Stas.”

  “Oh. Right. He’s at the coffee shop next door. I assume your shadow is nearby, too?”

  “Shadows,” she corrected. “Two for me.” She touched her stomach. “Two for him.”

  “I guess I should stop complaining about Stas. At least there’s only one of him following me everywhere.”

  “Oh, it’s not so bad. Krisha is just part of this life.”

  “Krisha?”

  “Roof,” she explained. “It’s what they call the protection arrangements we have. Like a roof protects the house, you see?”

  “Oh.”

  “You’ll get used to it. My four shadows are like family now. Ten is really just a big teddy bear once you get to know him. Boychenko is a sweetheart. Ilya always has the best gossip and stories. Danny sneaks me pan dulce from Benny’s bakery once or twice a week. Honestly? It’s like having four seriously overprotective brothers. I was an only child and I always wanted brothers. It’s like wish fulfillment twenty years later,” she laughed.

  Closing my eyes, I leaned back against the cushioned seat and enjoyed the hot water bubbling around my feet. “One older sister has been enough trouble for me.”

  “It will be all right,” Vivian said softly. “Alexei won’t let anything happen to you, and I can promise you that Nikolai won’t either.”

  I glanced at her and saw the sincerity in her eyes. “I hope so.”

  She reached over and touched my hand. “I know so.”

  My cell phone buzzed, and I fished it out of my purse. The snap from Kylee made me giggle. She had taken a selfie with an exaggerated expression of pain as she waited in one of the aesthetician rooms for her waxing appointment. I snapped a quick photo of myself relaxing with a content smile and sent it her way.

  “Are you Snapchatting with Alexei?” Vivian had her phone in her hand and seemed to be texting someone. “I’ve been trying to convince Nikolai to let me add the app to his phone for us to use, but he’s all security this and NSA that so…” She rolled her eyes. “I tried telling him that the NSA doesn’t care about our selfies but…”

  “This one is from Kylee. She’s in the back about to get up close and personal with some hot wax.”

  “Ouch!”

  “I showed Alexei how to use Snapchat this morning.” Amused, I admitted, “He sent me a snap of his blueberry muffin and a cup of coffee. I think it’s going to take him a while to figure it out.”

  Vivian laughed. “Start sending racy snaps. He’ll figure it out quick enough.” Holding out her phone, she said, “Give me your number. We’re neighbors now. We should get together for lunch or something.”

  “I’d like that.” We exchanged phones and typed in our contact information. As I handed back her phone and took mine, Kylee strolled out of the spa, grabbed a funky sea blue shade of polish and hopped into the seat next to me. She leaned forward to wave at Vivian and soon they were chatting back and forth.

  My p
edicure and manicure finished before Kylee’s so I settled our bills and tips and waited for her in the lobby. I snapped a selfie of my new haircut and color and sent it to Alexei. He responded seconds later with a phone call.

  “Hello?” I answered quietly so as not to disturb any of the other patrons.

  “You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you.” Feeling giddy at the sound of his deep, dark voice, I couldn’t help but smile.

  “I’d like to take you out and show you off, but I have a meeting soon and then promised to do a favor for a friend tonight.”

  He didn’t have to tell me who that friend was or why he had to do him a favor. I had a gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach that Nikolai would expect many such favors from Alexei for the protection he had extended toward me.

  “But I’ll make it up to you when I get home,” he promised. “I have to go. I’ll call you when I’m headed home tonight. Stay close to Stas. All right?”

  “I will.” We ended our call with softly spoken goodbyes just as Kylee appeared in the lobby. We left the salon together and came face to face with two men in black leather jackets. They both had tattoos like Alexei’s. The younger of the two men looked very familiar to me. He nodded toward me in acknowledgment. “Ma’am.”

  I suddenly remembered where I had seen him. He had come to my rescue with Alexei. “Mr. Boychenko.”

  His companion laughed and said something to him in Russian that made Boychenko’s ears turn red. I sensed it was good-natured ribbing between two men who seemed close as brothers and left it at that. Kylee and I continued toward the coffee shop.

  “What was that about?” she asked.

  “Those are Vivian’s guards. One of them—Boychenko—came to help me the other night.”

  We exchanged a look, and I could tell that I didn’t need to tell her the rest of it. We entered the coffee shop and found Stas sitting at a table with two men that I assumed were Vivian’s other guards. The bearded one shocked me with his size. Standing at full height, he was probably seven feet tall and all tattooed muscle. With a bear like that at Vivian’s side, she was the safest woman in all of Houston.