by J. L. Drake
“Bien.” Thanks to a good public education, I’m fluent en español.
“In a hurry?” He mopped a gym towel across his face.
Well, I would face the Wrath of Boris to hang out with you for a minute or two. “Not really.” I set down my tennis bag and filled a cup of water from the cooler.
His dreamy olive green eyes lit up as his gaze moved up and down my sweaty bod. “I haven’t seen you. You don’t work upstairs anymore?”
I shook my head.
“I just finished up. Want to grab a shake?”
My belly fluttered. “Oh, I wish I could, but my ride is here.”
“Another time?”
“Sí.” I walked to the door, but stopped and turned around when a brilliant idea popped into my head. “I have an extra ticket to the ballet this Friday. I don’t know if that’s something you’re into or not, but—”
“I’m into it if you are. No puedo esperar.”
I felt tingly all over. “Yo tampoco.”
We exchanged numbers.
When I met Boris, I was sure my aura was glowing. “Privet.” I plopped down in the front seat with more enthusiasm than usual.
He glared at me as if my good mood was a signal of imminent disaster. “Privet. Your day was good?”
“Yeah, practice was good. I got my calculus homework done in English lit. Good.”
He didn’t put the car in reverse, which made me nervous. I take after my dad. He rambles when he’s nervous. I ramble when I’m nervous. “Yep. Good. Very good.” I tapped my foot.
“What made your day very good? Something special must have happened.”
Jeez. “Actually, yes. I have a favor to ask.”
He nodded for me to continue.
“Well, Kiki’s parents gave us an early Christmas present—tickets to the ballet.”
“Ah, so thoughtful.” His dark eyes were set on lie detector mode.
“Yes, they’re fabulous. Anyway, the tickets are for this Friday.” I waited to gauge his reaction, but his expression hadn’t changed. “So, I was wondering if I could have the night off?”
He tapped his fingers on the dash as he processed the request. “To go to the ballet with Chinese girl?”
“Mm, hm.”
“Of course, I will send a limo to take you in style. Two lovely ladies shouldn’t drive downtown alone. It is my gift to you and your friend.”
“Oh, wow. That’s so nice.” Driver meant babysitter.
“My pleasure.” He pulled back on the shifter to put the car in reverse.
“But—”
“But?” He slammed the car in park. The Cadillac engine revved.
I exhaled. “We’re going with some friends.”
Boris licked his lips. “Now the story changes?”
“No, no, no, the story didn’t change.” I tried to keep it light. “I gave you the abbreviated version instead of the long-winded one.” I balled my fingers into a fist and put them in my lap.
He nodded at my hands. “This is how you mask your untruth?”
Everything was so serious with him. I laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “It’s all good, Boris. It’s just a night out with my friends. No alcohol, I promise.” I put my hand on my heart. “I appreciate the offer for the car, but Kiki’s date is driving.”
“Your date is good guy?”
“Sure. Yeah. He’s a nice guy.”
“He goes to your college?”
Dammit. “No.”
“Older boy?”
“We’re about the same age.” I turned on the music to try to change the subject. “What’s that Russkiy song we listened to the other day? The one about the sky. I think I have the chorus memorized now.”
He played the song. “About the same age? What does that mean?”
“Please don’t interrogate me, Boris. No surprises—I promise.”
He drove off the lot and tipped his head as he considered my request. “Friday night I will take you home early.”
“Spasibo.” I clapped my hands.
“But,” he pointed his finger at me, ticked something he said had made me happy, “you will serve the rest of your time on Sunday.”
Ay caramba.
Chapter 17
Quick And Dirty
Since Vladimir and I had buried our little problem, he had come home early every night that week. We talked. We laughed. We celebrated my team’s advance to the playoffs. We noshed on marinated veggies and bread and enjoyed our wine and vodka. Things were going so well, I looked forward to our time together. In fact, the Carter Love Fest bordered on obnoxious.
It was the last week before winter break and Vladimir helped me study for exams. He wrote words of encouragement in Russian on my statistics practice tests—after he helped me correct my mistakes—and we engaged in mock business negotiations, Russian style, that involved generous shots of vodka chased down with dark bread slathered with rich butter and sprinkled with coarse sea salt. It was sweet of him to spend so much time with me, and I loved seeing him in Boss Mode.
For one of our negotiations, we pretended I was a produce supplier, and he owned a restaurant. I gave him an estimate for what I thought was a fair price for the order he placed, but he asked for a twenty percent discount. I countered a ten percent discount and, as a goodwill gesture, I would toss in a couple extra heads of cabbage under the table.
“Twenty is my final offer,” Vladimir said, pouring on his alpha male persona.
Determined not to squirm under pressure, I stared him down while I crafted a comeback. I kept my mental focus and extended my hand. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Ivanov. Regrettably, I am unable to accept your terms. Have a pleasant day.” I tried to walk away, but he tightened his grip on my hand and wouldn’t let me go.
“I’m sorry we couldn’t have reached more favorable terms, Miss Cook. Now we’ll do it my way.”
“What? Are you—?”
“In one hour, you will personally deliver my order. I will receive a fifty percent discount off your lowest offer, and all cabbages will be delivered under the table. Pleasure doing business with you, Miss Cook.”
Was he serious? Did he seriously negotiate like that?
I shook out of his grasp and made a T with hands. “Timeout.” I glanced over at Boris, who was seated across from us, writing in his black notebook. “Is he on my team or yours?”
Vladimir tipped his hand, indicating I could have the big guy.
I straightened my shoulders and plastered my game face back on. “It certainly is a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Ivanov.” I checked my watch. “I have to run. Let’s do this. I’ll have my associate Boris go over the final details of your order with you.” I suppressed a winner’s grin. “I look forward to a long, mutually beneficial business relationship with you, and I would hate for there to be any bad blood between us. Don’t you agree?”
“Well played, angel. You’re hired.” He kissed my cheeks. “Welcome to the family.”
I cracked up. Boris fired off some angry words in Russian, but Vladimir laughed it off. Boris hated to see the boss joking and fawning over me, but I thought it was sweet. I’m sure the boss had way more important things to do, but he liked spending time with me, too.
***
On Friday, the official kick-off to winter break and the night of the ballet, I heard the garage door open. I set out the drinks and zakuski and greeted the boss at the door as was our custom. “Happy Friday, Mr. Ivanov.”
“Privet.” He kissed my cheeks and admired my hair, which I had styled in big loose waves instead of the smaller natural ones. “You look beautiful, Carter. Tonight I will take you somewhere extra special to celebrate the end of your semester.”
Holy shit. Boris hadn’t told him about my date. I turned to my keeper for guidance. “Um—”
Boris spoke to the boss in Russian and poured a round of shots. Vladimir was silent, but his expression went from ‘happy to be home’ to ‘lit stick of tattooed dynamite.’ They downed
their vodka.
“Boris tells me you are leaving early. You must have big plans?” He had fire in his eyes.
“Oh, not too big.”
Boris poured another round and offered me a drink. I shook my head and lifted a water bottle out of the bar fridge. I was not going to have one drop of alcohol before I left the house.
“Tell me.” Vladimir hadn’t taken off his suit jacket or loosened his tie like usual.
Boris opened his betting book and pretended not to listen to our conversation.
“Kiki and I are going to the ballet with a couple of friends.”
“Sounds nice. Girlfriends?”
I shook my head and launched a counterattack. “What about you? What are your plans?”
Boris looked up from his book, warning me to be careful. I smiled and waited for Vladimir to answer. He smiled back—not a cheery type of grin—more like a passive-aggressive response to my evasiveness.
“The boss asked you a question,” Boris said.
“I heard him.”
Boris glared at me.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that,” I apologized to my keeper. I turned my focus back to Vladimir. “I’m not trying to be disrespectful, boss. Can we go in the other room and talk in private?”
Boris rattled off something in Russian.
I picked up Vladimir’s hand and tried to pull him toward the swinging door. He didn’t budge. I changed up my game plan and passed the ball to the boss. Why forge ahead into a losing battle? The pakhan didn’t take orders from anyone. I let go of his hand and plopped down on a barstool in defeat.
Vladimir savored his victory. “You want to speak in private?” He tugged on my elbow. “Come. We’ll sit by the fire.”
Safe in the company of the boss, I flashed a grin to Boris. Vladimir led me out of the kitchen to the couch in the living room.
“I know you worry about me,” I said. “I mean after last weekend, I get it. Epic fail on my part, but really, I’m not like that.” I squeezed his hand. “I need you to trust me.”
“I do, Carter.”
“I mean all the way. Tell Boris not to follow me tonight.”
The boss let go of my hand and walked to the fireplace. He stacked up a couple of logs in the hearth, arranged some kindling, and struck a match to light the fire. “The thought of you running around the city at all hours—”
“See? That’s my point. You worry too much. We’re going to the ballet and maybe out for coffee after that. Then Kiki and I are spending the night at her parents’ house—alone. The dorms are closed until break is over. There’s nothing to worry about, Mr. Ivanov. I won’t be able to relax if I know I have a tail.”
“You can’t think of any other reason why I might be concerned?”
I shrugged.
“My dearest Carter, you are so naïve.”
I stood up and met him by the fireplace. “I am capable of going to the ballet without a babysitter.”
The boss put his hands on my shoulders. “There’s something you said last Friday. I feel like you weren’t being honest with me.”
“About what?” My heart pounded.
He swept my hair over to one side and smoothed my waves. “You said you’ve never had a boyfriend. A girl as beautiful as you—it’s not possible. Want to change your story?”
I held my hands up dismissively. “Boss, I hate to break it to you, but you have some distorted view of my status with the boys. I promise you, I have never in my entire life had a boyfriend.” I crossed my heart and held up my hand.
His eyes were saturated with disappointment. He didn’t believe me.
“Okay, I am going to let you in on a secret, but if I tell you, you have to promise to drop it. It’s not something I want to talk about.” I guided him to the couch. “The picture of Ryan and me last weekend didn’t tell the real story. He didn’t kiss me. I kissed him.”
His jaw tensed.
“And when I did he…declined my offer.” I covered my mouth to hide my quivering lips.
He rested my head on his chest. “Is he homosexual?”
“No, he likes girls, just not me.” The humiliation of that night felt fresh.
He rubbed circles on my back with his warm hand, encouraging me to give him more. “He can pretty much go out with any girl he wants to. It’s no big deal. I’m over it.” Tears dripped down my cheeks.
Vladimir brought me back to center, so he could see my face. He dabbed away my tears with his silk pocket square. “The boy is crazy. If a beautiful girl like you gave me so much as a glance, I would give her the world. Designer clothes, fine jewelry, fancy cars—”
“Stop it. You already do that for me.” I smiled through my tears. “Seriously, is the matter settled now?”
“Of course.” He walked me back to the kitchen.
Boris didn’t look up from his book as we breezed past him at the bar.
“Tonight wouldn’t happen to be your first date, would it, angel?” Vladimir asked.
His question caught me by surprise. “Well, you know I go out all the time with my friends—guys and girls—but I guess officially tonight would technically be my first real date.”
He bit his bottom lip, then snapped at Boris in Russian. And kept snapping. Damn.
The boss is obviously ticked about something, but is he mad at Boris or me?
“Is something wrong?” I had wrestled with the idea of inviting Vladimir to the ballet, but I couldn’t handle him rejecting me again. If he said yes, Kiki would wonder why I was hanging out with Dad’s boss, my employment situation was a secret, Dad would kill me…
Boris replied, “Nyet,” and shot me the evil eye.
Vladimir shook off the crazy, slid on my coat, and kissed my cheeks. He lifted my hands and checked out my upgraded fingernails. I’d gotten a manicure at the club, courtesy of him, after I’d chewed my nails off. They were painted pale pink with light purple French tips, and my two ring fingers each had a glittery topcoat to add a touch of bling.
“So, what about my special request?”
“I will leave it up to my sovietnik. Whatever the two of you work out is fine by me. Do svidaniya.”
My keeper cracked a smile and spun the Cadillac key ring around his finger.
Double damn.
I had fourteen minutes to make my case. Once we got on the road, I gave Boris the quick and dirty version of the plea I’d made to Vladimir. I’m in college, perfectly capable of going to the ballet without a babysitter, I appreciate Vladimir’s concern…
“Your papa approves of this young man? Knows the family?”
“That’s not how things work here.”
He gave me a sideways glance. “Your papa knows you have date tonight, right?”
I fumbled with the zipper on my coat. “He knows I’m going to the ballet with Kiki.”
“I don’t recall you mentioning this nice boy’s name.” I could tell by Boris’s tight lips and white knuckles that the big studly picture was coming into focus.
“Uh, the basketball player. Leonar—”
He ranted in Russian, swerved onto a side street, and slammed the car in park. “This will not happen under my watch.” He rubbed his beard. “You have two choices. One: You will go back to the house and explain to boss why a nice young lady is interested in dating a twenty-four-year-old man with a criminal record.”
“I didn’t know, I swear.” It’s not like I asked for his birth certificate and resume. I had no idea how Boris knew so much about Leonardo, but I believed him. The big guy had his faults, but lying wasn’t one of them.
“Option two: Call the Spaniard right now and tell him you will not be going out with him tonight or ever.” His deep, angry voice had enough torque to uproot a tree.
My survival instincts took over. I tapped Leonardo’s number. I spoke to him in Spanish and made up a bullshit excuse why I had to cancel. I ended the call. Boris seemed even more pissed than before. “What did I do now? I called it off.”
/> By his expression, I should have already known what I did wrong.
“Oh, come on,” I said. “We always converse en español.”
He pointed his thick finger in my face. “Dear, one day you are going to push me too far.”
I looked away.
He cupped my chin and turned my head until I met his eyes. “Trust me. You don’t want to find out what happens when I lose my temper.”
Chapter 18
Crashed And Burned
After my awesome date with an empty chair, I couldn’t wait for a Saturday night do-over. My friends wanted to do something memorable over winter break, so we’d planned a sleep-in-your car, all-nighter camping trip at Cowan Lake. I had told my dad that, as per usual, I was spending the night with Kiki, and Kiki told her parents she was staying at my place. When we move into our own apartment, we won’t have to lie and sneak around anymore.
We’d made the lake plans weeks ago, before I’d even met the Russians. After my fail last weekend, I didn’t want to subject myself to another lecture, but if I didn’t drink and / or throw myself at anyone, I could flash the stupid girl card on the trespassing crime. I mean, damn, I could go camping with my friends without Vladimir’s and Boris’s approval. I wasn’t playing strip poker with a bunch of wasted frat boys or anything.
With our alibis in place, I told Kiki to text me when she got to the house, and I would meet her outside. I didn’t want to give Dad an opportunity to ask questions. A knock came from the front door. Jeez, Kiki.
I yelled goodbye to the family, hoofed it downstairs, and opened the door. Ryan was standing on my porch. His shoulders were slumped, making him look like a big dejected Teddy bear. Awkward. I’d been avoiding him since The Kiss. He had sent me a billion texts, called, Tweeted—but I didn’t have the guts to own up to my skanky behavior.
“Please talk to me.” He reached out and tugged on my coat sleeve.