by Sunniva Dee
She slaps my ass, huffing, “Shaddap.”
“Helena?”
“Hmm?”
“You want to watch me fight a Russian before you skip town?” It’s early afternoon, and we cross paths with Johnny-boy in the Hooters parking lot as he clicks his car locked. He shakes my hand, nods a “hi” to Helena, but then it’s just the two of us again. Her eyes are water-bright, Helena-colored and beautiful when she meets my gaze. “When is it?”
“On the fifteenth of the month. In ten days.”
Her lip juts out. “Where?”
“Miami again.”
“Shoot, I can’t. My flight leaves from Tampa early on the sixteenth.” She twists her mouth, letting me know she’s confused. “I didn’t think you wanted me at your fights?”
I don’t have a good answer to that. My coaches don’t want me to take her. I don’t believe in taking girls to fights.
I’ve broken most of my rules since I met Helena though. Now I wonder what difference it would make if I purposely brought her. She’s already worked several of my gigs, and I haven’t been any worse off. I think. “Well, even if I did want you there, it wouldn’t have worked out.” I feign boredom. Let sections of her hair slide between my fingers as I play with it.
Helena’s got a smile growing on her face. It’s a tad bit victorious, and I can’t help smiling back even though I’m the loser. “He wants me there,” she whispers to no one. “He does.”
“Shaddap,” I reply with her exact accent. Then I snag a kiss.
HELENA
I don’t know how it happened. Slowly, Victor and I have slid into a relationship. We don’t mention it. It’s a lot to take in, especially since I’m about to leave.
I want to come back, to study here, but really, nothing is for sure until papers have been filed and I get my approval. I’ve heard horror stories about small mistakes that have stopped people from being granted a student visa. Me, I’ve got big mistakes on my conscience.
In the time I’ve worked at Hooters, on the nights I’ve been a ring girl, I’ve never had to explain myself to a cop about working illegally, but what if they somehow find out? I swear to myself that I will not exceed the ramifications of my visa if I’m allowed to return. Before that though, I need to go back to Germany and face my family, the townsfolk, and my ex again.
Gunther Wilhelm has that double quality of seeming weak at the same time as he has a will of steel. I bet that’s why he’s done so well in the financial world. They think he’s harmless until he shows them otherwise.
Victor trains day and night. He has eased up a little on his vigilance of me since it’s clear that “W.G.” must have left.
I’ve asked my father if he’s seen him around lately, and he hasn’t. Not that it means anything. He has yet to set up camp in our village. Gunther Wilhelm’s headquarters is in a financial hub nearby. Now, as the moment to return to Germany closes in on me, I’m thinking that an hour’s distance between Kyria and Gunther Wilhelm is too short.
It’s after midnight when I come home from my shift at Hooters. I popped by ACW to see if Victor was still there. With two other fighters, the ones who will be part of his team for the Miami fight, he was going over videos starring the Russian. There were a lot of air jabs going down and talk about the “tapouts,” “referee stoppage,” and “judge’s decision.” Less cryptic was the demolishing and the putting-him-to-sleep part of the conversation.
The lights are on in our living room, and a vehicle I don’t know is in the driveway. As I rummage for my key, I wonder who it could be. There are men’s voices on the other side of the door. Gun rumbles a laugh. Someone else talks, but it’s muffled. Cass is at her boyfriend’s tonight. Drinking mate, I’m sure. I freeze as soon as I enter. It’s Gunther Wilhelm the Fourth.
“Hi, Helena!” Gun exclaims, excited. “You should have told me your friend from Germany is visiting. What a great guy.” He claps Gunther Wilhelm’s narrow shoulders affectionately. “And wow, how crazy: there are now two Gunthers under one roof.”
One Gunther too many.
My heart skipped a beat when I saw him. Then it sped up with remembered distress. Now, it’s slowing again, aiming at a normal pulse, as I recognize my friend, the way he used to be. This Gunther Wilhelm isn’t the man with obsession and disdain warring on his features. He seems calm and amused by Gun’s elation.
“Hi, Helena, nice to see you,” my ex murmurs, a nasal hiss through his nostrils. It’s annoying but not menacing. “Just back from work?” With eyes on my face, not derailing over my Hooters top and pushed-up boobs, he waits for my answer.
“I am.”
“Do you always finish late?” He blinks. Starts over. “I guess you have quite the walk back home.”
I open my mouth but shut it again. Why do I feel like I have to explain myself?
“I mean, I guess you didn’t really work that late. It’s a restaurant,” he tries to amend, showing his disapproval in his omission.
I feel a furrow grow between my eyes. “Right, not a gentleman’s club or a brothel.”
Gunther Wilhelm the fucking Fourth lifts white little hands up between us in a smarmy sort of surrender. “Which is great.”
“Were you on your way out?” I clip.
“No, I was waiting for you. Since you aren’t picking up my calls and I’m not sure how much your father shares with you, I wanted to let you in on the latest from Kyria Castle.”
“What, have you been home or something?”
“No, my business here isn’t over yet, but I have my sources.”
“Your business here has taken you weeks?” I’m procrastinating. The news he’s about to give me won’t make me happy.
Gunther Wilhelm shrugs and sticks the tips of his fingers into his dress pants. It’s not that god-awful rusty suit he wore the other night, but the cut of this blue contraption makes his shoulders impossibly narrower and the waist wider. The man isn’t thick though—he just has a doughy consistency you don’t expect on young, skinny males.
Come to think of it, that stance annoys me too. With three middle fingers on each hand neatly stuck into the top of his pockets, it looks like he’s posing. No, scratch that: he is posing.
“Business took me around the region. Miami, Key West, back here to a few places. Gotta get things done now that I’m in the States, you know.”
Gun is following our German conversation with the rapt interest of someone who’s amazed at how much they understand. So amazed he doesn’t pick up on the fact that our convo is sort of private.
“So when are you leaving?” I ask, barefaced.
“Can we talk? As I mentioned, Kyria Castle.”
Impatient, I wave him into my room. I’d rather not shut the door. Not because he frightens me, but because it seems easier to send him out after we’re done if the door’s already open. I show him a chair and sink down on the edge of the bed. “All right,” I say. “Shoot.”
“Did your dad mention the electrical damage in the grand foyer?”
“What? No!” Our beautiful main staircase makes an appearance in my mind, wrought-iron snaking upward, meeting a high ceiling and finding the second floor. I know the electrical system in most of the castle hasn’t been updated since the fifties, but the grand foyer wasn’t where I expected it to break first.
So much for my father sharing stuff with me because I shared with him. The plan has so not played out in my favor: Gunther Wilhelm the Fourth is now in Florida, and Papa still divulges nothing important. This sucks.
“Water damage,” he breathes out, eyes sad for me and Kyria. “It’s seeped into the brocade walls too, over the main entrance and down behind the sconces. You know that wallpaper is irreplaceable. It will have to be reconstructed by specialists–made by hand. We might as well get a few rolls of it though, in case something similar occurs again.”
“Wait, back up. The leakage from the south wing couldn’t have made it to the entrance.”
He shakes his head again. �
�It appears that bats have nested on the portico, and their… soil has made so much damage there that it ate a hole through the roof. It’s been there for a while, apparently. I paid for experts to look at it,” he adds, studying his fingernails.
I’m in turmoil. A gut feeling tells me I’m showing weakness by asking, but I need to know. “When did this happen?” Papa should have told me. “What would be the price tag on this fix?”
“Oh they only just discovered it, but they assume it’s been leaking for a few weeks. It’s a fire hazard, you know.” He sniffs. “Basically, Elfriede noticed smoke beneath one of the wall sconces. She sounded the alarm immediately. If it weren’t for her, a fire might have broken out. Can you imagine?” His eyes widen in much too feminine shock.
Papa didn’t tell me.
Papa didn’t tell me.
There’s that irrational feeling again, the one saying that I’m giving Gunther Wilhelm something he’s after if I admit my fear. I listen to my gut. I don’t even gasp at the horrors he paints. “Have we received an estimate yet?”
And again I receive a number that makes the hairs stand at the back of my neck. I need to get Gunther Wilhelm out the door. I need him to leave so I can call my father. I need Papa to get on Skype with me, and I don’t even care what time it is in Germany.
VICTOR
I park outside Helena’s house and knock at the same time as the door opens inward. And there he is, the one guy I’d sworn she wouldn’t have to face alone as long as I’m around.
Quickly, I scan the area behind him. Helena is there. She’s got her arms crossed and looks concerned but not scared. She’s fully dressed in her Hooters uniform—thank the fucking lord. I want the guy gone so I can find out why she looks unhappy, but there are a few issues I need clarified first.
I take the last step up so I’m at his level before I give him the stare-down. “Wilhelm Gunther the Fifteenth. What brings you to my girlfriend’s house in the middle of the night?”
The dude puffs up his chest. It causes the flaps of his jacket to slide open, revealing a baby-pink shirt. “Girlfriend?” he asks like he’s hard of hearing as well. Helena and I might not have talked about this—no handshakes to solidify a complicated status, but to him we sure as hell are an item. He opens and closes his fish lips as if wanting to add more. He eventually says, “I’m here due to matters of great importance.”
“And what are these matters of great importance?”
“He has to leave now. I’ll fill you in,” Helena says, squeezing in beside him and taking me by the hand. I link our fingers. She starts tugging, but I’m not finished yet.
“Is that your car?” I ask, hiking a thumb over my shoulder toward the window.
“Victor.” There’s a warning in Helena’s tone. Does she think I’ll attack out of nowhere? He might be a douche, but I’m not a caveman.
“Ja. That’s my car,” he says, nodding in the direction of the Lincoln Town Car. Wild choice for a rental.
“Cool. I’ll follow you out. I’ll be right back, Helena.”
She doesn’t object, but she waits on the porch with her gaze on me as we descend to the street.
I lower my voice so she can’t hear us. With fake calm, I lean against his car while I talk. “Okay, asshole. I’ve had it with you. That, right there, was the last straw. What gives you the right to rush her apartment in the middle of the night?” I jut my chin toward the driver’s door. “If you want out of here without a broken nose, now’s your chance.”
“Oh wow,” he says. It’s like the words come out of his nose, annoying as hell. “How long have you known Helena? I don’t think you realize how complicated she is.”
I ignore his question. “I’ve only met you a few times, but it seems complications are your specialty, starting with the damn stalking.”
“Listen, Victor, is it?”
I bob my head once, eyes narrowed on the douchebag.
“Okay. Victor: I’ve known Isabella Maria Helena her entire life. Our families’ histories have intermingled for centuries. All I’m doing is assisting when her father is unable to help. You couldn’t possibly understand what it’s like to have Helena’s background and watch her family legacy fall apart around her.”
“What’s falling apart? Helena doesn’t want your help.” I straighten, my fists clenching at my side without my doing. It would be so amazing to bash his face in. But then she’s there, in front of me, mad and sweet and sad at once. Uncertainty constricts my chest, the need to help and not knowing how.
“Stop talking about me with him,” she tells me, and then, “Gunther Wilhelm Affenheimer the Fourth, get out of my driveway.”
I hate that she’s crying.
“I’m sorry,” she breathes, cheek to my chest. “This is so not what I wanted to do when you finally came back from the gym. And you, you need to concentrate on Saturday’s fight.”
“That prick made you cry. I want to beat him within inches of his life. Say the word, and I’m chasing him down.”
She lets out a quiet giggle. “He’d sob, you know.”
“Oh yeah, he’d sob. I’d make sure of it.”
“We didn’t even ask when he’s leaving,” she sniffles out.
“Ah no, we didn’t. We’re the worst detectives,” I say to lighten her mood.
“And we still don’t know where he’s staying.”
“That one’s easy: probably the closest hotel to your house.”
She groans, and I amend with, “Just kidding,” too late.
“I bet he’ll be on the same flight as me back home—clearly he’s an awesome detective, so he’ll know when I leave. Ugh, I don’t want to be on his plane.”
And that does the trick. It’s two a.m., and I should have a healthy snack and go to bed. But before that, I’m going to help her find another flight.
“I want to fly out from Miami,” she says, chin digging into my neck as she peers over my shoulder at her computer. “He’d never guess that.”
Fifteen minutes later, I swing in the chair. Glance up into happy, happy eyes, and I say, “You are the luckiest person I’ve ever met when it comes to trips. You booked your flight to Tampa hours before you got on the plane in Germany. And now, a week before your return home, there’s room out from Miami—a freaking last-minute bargain—the morning after my fight!”
“It’s meant to be.” Her eyes shimmer, and her lips are too much. I suck on them and watch her eyes slide closed while she enjoys my tongue.
HELENA
My heart and my soul and my mind are in turmoil. I’m settling into a van with Victor and his support team, Jaden, Zeke, Dawson—and his mother, Maiko. Besides the hasty hello at the airport when I first arrived, I haven’t actually been introduced to her until today.
This should be a great moment. We’re traveling to Miami together. Hours on the road with good company. A chance to get to know the woman who saved Victor from poverty and starvation.
Don’t get me wrong. The moment is great, but it could have been better. I wish I hadn’t also packed up my belongings and put them in storage in the backroom of the apartment I can’t honestly call mine anymore.
I’m leaving. In two days, I’m leaving, and I can’t say with one hundred percent certainty that their government will let me back in. I’ve learned quite a bit from Angelo’s horror stories about Italian friends and issues they’ve run into. If the INS finds anything on me, if my master’s degree study plan doesn’t appear solid enough, I could be denied a visa. It could be delayed, asking for more paperwork, or just be shuffled around on office desks until I give up.
“Are you comfortable?” Victor murmurs. We’re on the back bench of the van, which is slightly shorter than the others. He fills most of it with his body. He’s got me in the crook of his arm though, leaning against his chest, and his hand cups my hip. I’m comfortable as heck and tell him so.
“I’ve asked to be the ring-girl on your fight,” I repeat what he already knows. “Because I bring you luck.�
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Dawson is driving. He must have caught what I said, because he clears his throat, clearly unhappy.
“You hear that?” Zeke snickers, winking at me. “I betcha Dawson has already had a serious talk with Victor about how unwise it is for him to have you there at all. Am I right, Coach?”
“That conversation is over. It is what it is, and we’re making the best of it,” Dawson says in his quiet way. I’m always impressed by his ability to instill respect in his fighters. With just a few sentences, he calms three guys, two of which are incredibly flippant.
“Of course,” Jaden says, swiping his Mediterranean blues over us from the middle row. “So did Mr. M. agree to you being Victor’s ring girl?”
“Not sure yet. He’s thinking about it.”
“What did he say?” Victor asks.
“He said, ‘I think we can swing that.’”
“That means he’ll make sure you get to do that.”
I tip my head up to study Victor’s expression. He’s too calm for such a big fight being less than twenty-four hours away. “No, he said he thinks so. He didn’t promise anything.”
“I know.” He kisses my forehead, making my heart squeeze painfully. I’m not just leaving Florida, all of my new friends, and Victor’s silly buddies. I’m leaving him too. “We’re a bit unclear here sometimes. What it means is, ‘Sure, we can do that.’”
“How do you know?” I ask. “Why didn’t he just say that then?”
Zeke grins from the seat in front of me. “He knows ’cause he’s American. It’s how we do it. You’ve got time for a beer tonight, Jaden?”
“I think I can swing that, Zeke.”
They both snicker, and I roll my eyes. “Obnoxious boys.”
“Bah, you love us. At least him.” Jaden doesn’t turn to us, just hikes a thumb behind his head, pointing at Victor.
Markeston is already at the hotel we’ll be staying at. He meets us up front, chipper soul in a stout body. His eyes gleam as he complains about Victor not letting him upgrade the team to a better hotel.
“The Hyatt is a block away. My PA had six rooms on her hand.”
“Really, Victor? This was your doing?” Zeke groans, pulling gear and duffel bags out of the back of the van.