Dynasty

by Jen Davis et al.

  ***

  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 choice
s. 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.

  His sweet brown eyes wore me down. “Okay, but not here.” I hopped inside Ryan’s truck and texted Kiki I would catch up with her later.

  We made small talk as he drove us to our favorite pizza place. Turned out he was spending winter break with his dad, who lived across the street from me. Once we got a booth and ordered a large white pizza with artichokes and black olives with a side of meatballs, Ryan put his hand on top of mine. “I didn’t turn you down that night.”

  I looked away, ashamed of my slutty drunken horniness. “Ryan, I’m totally embarrassed about the whole thing. Can we please drop it?”

  He shook my arm to loosen my constant anxiety. I couldn’t look at him. I took a sip of my Sierra Mist.

  “You’re not hearing me, Carter. I’ve been crushing on you since high school.”

  Pop fizz tickled my nose. “Ryan, stop it.”

  “Seriously. I only said no because I have too much respect for you to take advantage of a situation like that. But, if you were my girlfriend and wanted to attack me, I’d be all right with that.” He tapped my foot under the table and squeezed my hand.

  I peeked up at him. He had the cutest dimples. “Your girlfriend?”

  At that exact moment, a guy bumped into Ryan’s chair. When the dude turned around and held up his hand to apologize, I recognized him—Playboy. He tossed me a wicked grin and camped out at the table behind Ryan.

  After Playboy took a seat, two of his cohorts joined him—the big, grimacing fellow that lurked around Vladimir’s house, and a wiry guy with a shaved head and a trail of black tats running down his neck. Playboy waved behind Ryan’s back and snapped a pic of the big boy and me. A not-so-subtle reminder for me to be on my best behavior.

  That trio of Russian outcasts must be the patsani Vladimir had warned me about last weekend. My God, would he really use them to teach me a lesson?

  ***

  As we walked back to his truck after dinner, Ryan said, “Can I talk you into a movie instead of going to the lake?”

  Hanging around with Ryan would be a solid plan to stay out of trouble. I hated the thought, but the Russians were right about drinking around boys, and there was potential for the overnighter to end badly—and I sure as hell didn’t want Playboy and his posse to get involved.

  “Come on. I’ll buy the Milk Duds.”

  “You’re tempting me with the promise of a sugar buzz and a mouthful of cavities? Smooth. I’m a sucker for bad boys. Your bribe is accepted.”

  As Ryan drove to the theater, Dad’s ringtone erupted from my phone. “What’s up? I’m with Ryan.” I paused, listening. “Cowan Lake? On my way.”

  “What’s wrong?” Ryan asked.

  “The cops busted Kiki and a bunch of the others for being at the lake after hours. Some jerk brought beer, so everyone had to call their parents to pick them up. Kiki’s dad was worried because I was M.I.A. and called Dad.”

  “How angry is he?”

  “Oh, you know Dad. Somewhere between an overprotective rhino and a ticked off Coach Harbaugh.” The drama was getting exhausting.

  “But you weren’t even at the lake.”

  “Stop applying common sense. We’re talking about my dad, here.”

  When Ryan got me back to the house, Dad was waiting on the front porch in his pajama pants, Karen’s house slippers, and a winter coat. He couldn’t even wait for me to get inside the house to interrogate me. Ryan offered to walk me to the door and serve as my witness, but I convinced him to go home. I liked the idea of knowing he was across the street.

  “You lied right to my face, Carter?” Dad asked before I even made it up the steps. “How dumb do you think I am? You do this sort of thing every weekend with your wild college friends?” He held the door open, I stepped inside, and he locked it behind me. “Does Ryan lie to his dad so he can sneak around all night? So, the two of you are an item now?” Even though he was shouting, he sounded excited about the prospect of me dating The Perfect One.

  I didn’t answer any of his questions. The one night I didn’t do anything wrong, I got busted for lying to my dad for no good reason. Karen peered at me from the kitchen table.

  “You don’t want to talk?” he went on. “Fine. You’re grounded. Give me your phone. If you don’t have anything to say to me then you don’t need to talk to anyone else.”

  I handed my cell to him without pleading my case. Grounded. Like a kid. Total bullshit, but I didn’t have it in me to fight back. In fact, I could think of nothing better to do than sit in my room and rot all weekend.

  He glanced down at my screenshot and let out an exacerbated sigh when he saw a selfie of Kiki and me making fish faces. “The two of you,” he mumbled under his beer-tainted breath. “It’ll be such a relief when you’re finally out of this house so I won’t have to put up with your goddamn shit anymore.”

  My hands flew to my mouth.

  “Oh, Rick,” Karen said. “Apologize.”

  “I didn’t mean it. Sorry,” Dad said to Karen. He was more motivated to appease his wife than he was to take back what he said to me. Because it was the truth. He reached out and laid his hands on my shoulders.

  “You’re not sorry.” I shoved him off. “You hate me. You’ve always hated me. It’s my fault Sophia’s dead and you’ll never forgive—”

  “Oh no you don
’t, Carter.” Dad held out his hands. “Don’t you dare try to deflect—”

  “Admit it. You wish I had crashed and burned instead of your good daughter.”

  “Carter, how could you—”

  “I’m sorry I made your life suck.” I retreated to the safety of my room, dropped to the floor, and did push-ups in rapid-fire succession to ignite the burn in my muscles.

  The devil clung to my shoulder and hissed in my ear.

  You’re a fucking loser…Sophia was a better person…you should have been the one who died…it’s your fault…it’s your fault…it’s your fault…

  Sophia’s voice was silent. She blamed me, too. “I’m so sorry, Sophia,” I whispered. “I would trade places with you if I could.” My muscles were on fire, but I deserved the pain. I kept going until my body quit working, and I collapsed on the floor.

  I could not do one thing right to save my fucked-up life.

  Chapter 19

  Aftermath

  Before my disastrous Saturday night, I’d agreed to Boris picking me up at our usual spot on his way home from church at eleven a.m. Sunday morning to make up for the time I’d missed on Friday. Since I was grounded, for God’s sake, and without a phone, I had to think of a way out of the house to let him know I wasn’t going with him.

  Instead of making it complicated, I bundled up and told Karen I was going out for a run. The December deep freeze hadn’t set in yet, so jogging outside was still plausible. She didn’t try to stop me. Dad wasn’t around anyway. He was probably across the street in search of The Truth. He was best buds with Ryan’s dad.

  When I got inside the Cadillac, Boris gave me the once-over. I wore gloves to cover up my shaky hands and sunglasses to mask the fact I had bawled well into the morning hours. Even though Playboy and his wolf pack had surely followed me last night, there was no way Boris could have known what had gone down after I got inside the house.