by Fox, Nicole
I take a deep breath. Ally’s thumb rubs over one of my shirt buttons as she listens carefully.
“The police report … she was found beaten to death. Everyone knew it was my father, but in the Bratva, what happens in the house has no effect on anything else. It’s a man’s domain and he gets to decide how punishments are dealt. That’s especially true for the Bratva boss. I wish I could say I tried to let it go or that I thought of going to the police, but as soon as I heard, I knew I was going to kill him.”
She stops fidgeting with my buttons. Her fingers are slightly curled above my shirt, her wrist still resting on it.
“It was simple enough. I told him to come to his nightclub, Original Menace, because a Colosimo tried to put poison in the vodka. I said I had captured the man. Like the Colosimos, he took pleasure in torture, so I knew he wouldn’t give up the chance to torture someone before killing them. He came. And I killed him.”
Ally raises her head. Her eyes search mine, looking for guilt or regret.
“The way I act isn’t armor or an act to intimidate people, Ally,” I say. “I killed my father because I wanted to kill him. My mother’s name was Mariya. I named my vodka Mariya’s Revenge because I feel no shame over what I did. I can look at those words every day, remember I killed my father, and I wouldn’t ever take it back.”
Her fingers rest over the button again, but she doesn’t fiddle with it.
“You’re not angry that she went to the police?” she asks.
A muscle jumps in my jaw. “Angry? No. I understand why she did what she did. I’m certain she thought it was the only way to get out from under his thumb. I can’t say that I’m happy about it, though. She had to know it could have screwed me over and she could have told me she was going to do it, but she was a desperate woman in a desperate situation. I don’t blame her for her choices.”
She looks down at her hand on my chest but doesn’t say anything.
“I need you to know that this is who I am. If somebody hits me, I’m going to hit them back twice as hard to prevent them from doing it again. If somebody tries to fuck with something I care about, I’ll kill them myself and I won’t regret it for a second. I won’t feel sorry for their wives and I won’t cry for their babies. If you can’t handle that, you should leave now.”
She grips my shirt like she might drift away from me by accident.
“I believe you,” she says slowly. “I believe you should have taken your father to court. Spouses are the first suspect in any murder. But I understand why you did what you did. I don’t think this is some evil coming out of you, even when you act like it is. You cared about your mother and that pain caused you to react on instinct. It’s not completely excusable, but it’s understandable.”
Her eyes are soft black silk threatening to suffocate me under their pity. My chest compresses. I need anything but this emotional bullshit.
“If you want more practice, we should start on a new lesson.” I cup her cheek, my thumb brushing against the edge of her mouth. “I’d like to see if you were bluffing about your mouth during our phone conversation.”
She smiles slowly, the edges of her lips pushing against my thumb.
Fucking priceless.
16
Allison
Sitting alone in Lev’s dining room with a variety of Thai dishes spread out in front of me should make me feel isolated. Lev left to talk to Mariya’s Revenge board members about the advertising for the new orange cream vodka and I should resent him for it. I should be running for my life after what he told me about the man in the grocery store.
But I’m dancing in the afterglow.
It’s like I made a deal with the devil for unadulterated happiness and he granted my wish. Twice in the last hour.
As I eat some jasmine rice, my phone starts to vibrate near my bowl.
Dad.
My hand lingers over my phone. Reality is threatening to take down my fantasy life, but I could never abandon my parents for a dream.
There’s only one more ring left before it goes to voice mail.
At the last second, I tap on Answer and bring the phone up to my ear.
“Hi, Dad,” I say. There’s a couple of seconds of silence. I don’t know if it would be better or worse if he had called me on accident.
“It’s both of us,” he says finally.
“Oh. Is this an intervention?” I ask, the bitterness cutting into my tone.
“No, no,” he says. Several more seconds of silence pass by.
“We just wanted to apologize,” my mother interjects. “Especially your father.”
“Yes,” he says stiffly. “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that. I was just shocked. I don’t think you’re a foolish person or anything like that.”
“We still want you to reconsider your engagement,” my mother adds.
I imagine them standing over their phone, the silent gestures and looks between them. They are trying to build a bridge back to their daughter. I’ve caused their stress. I burned that bridge. If I could repair it by telling them I’ll end the engagement, I would.
And I can, because Lev is willing to give up the evidence against me.
I grip the phone tighter. “We could talk about it.”
“We should have dinner together. Come to our house,” my father says, the words jumbling as he rushes to say them. “Without Alekseiev.”
If they have me in their house, the three of us, there is no way the discussion will go well. It will either end with them yelling and screaming, or they’ll manage to get the truth out of me. Neither option is appealing.
“What if we have dinner at my place?” I ask. “Julia can join us.”
I hear static and muffled voices. Someone must have covered the speaker. The static returns as someone lifts their hand off the speaker.
“We’d like that,” my mother says. “How about Sunday night? Tonight, your father has to work, and Saturday night, I’m having drinks with your aunt.”
“Sounds great,” I say.
“Good. Thank you, Ally,” she says. “You know we love you. We only want what’s best for you.”
“I know,” I say. “I love you too.”
“Have a good night, Ally,” my father says.
“Good night.”
The line goes silent.
I hang up. The deal with the devil seems less appealing now. Nobody ever tells you that once you sell your soul, the rest of the world starts to shrink until all that’s left is you and the devil.
* * *
In my dreams, we’re at Lev’s dining room table. Lev sits at the head of the table; my father and mother sit on either side of him while I’m on the other side of the table. I can hear all of them talking, but they’re too far away for me to decipher what they’re saying. They keep glancing over at me.
Water starts to seep underneath the walls. I try to warn the three of them, but they’re consumed in an argument. As the water starts to reach my knees, my father grabs the front of Lev’s shirt. Lev yanks my father out of his seat. My father hits Lev. Lev hits him back, my father’s body slamming against the wall as they fight. I try to tell them about the water, but nobody notices.
I turn to the man sitting beside me. “Why won’t they listen to me?”
Jeffrey Douglas, his skin peeling off, his eyes glazed over, reeking like pepper spray, shrugs. “The only people who listen to defendants are fucking morons, because defendants have every reason to lie. You’re the defendant.”
The smell of pepper spray starts to get into my throat and coat my nostrils. I put my hand on my throat, feeling it swell shut. Jeffrey reaches forward to touch me. I jerk away. He reaches forward again.
The smell of pepper spray starts to fade. A smoky, piquant scent wafts in. Lev is still fighting with my father on the other end of the table as the water reaches our waists, but I’d know that scent anywhere. It’s his.
* * *
I recognize Lev’s hand on my shoulder first. Then, the weigh
t of his comforter. I open my eyes and see him crouched down beside me. He raises an eyebrow.
“You were kicking in your sleep,” he says. “I didn’t picture you as a violent sleeper.”
“I’m not,” I mumble, sitting up. “You’re done working? What time is it?”
“A little after midnight,” he says. “Yes. I’m done working. I wouldn’t have woken you up, but it didn’t look like you were having a happy dream.”
“It was just—” I shake my head. “It was dumb.”
He brushes a couple of strands of hair away from my face. “You still look unhappy.”
“I’m fine.”
He gives me a quick kiss. As he stands up, I grab his arm and pull him back toward me. His arms cradle me as we kiss. I imagine each kiss conveys something we’re not telling each other. My lips tell him about my parents’ call, my concerns, the fact that I know leaving him is my best option, but I can’t seem to let him go. I imagine his lips are telling me that he’ll take care of me forever and that when the novelty of our relationship wears off, he won’t find some model to fuck. Harsh truths, one after another, conveyed but not spoken. They taste bitter and sweet at the same time.
I put my hand on his chest, pushing him a little bit. He resists our separation, kissing me once more before I put both my hands on his chest and put some distance between us.
“I just want to get some wine first,” I say. “Stay right here. I’ll be right back.”
I whip the blanket off and slip past him. I walk quickly, running my fingers through my hair like I’m expecting to find Jeffrey Douglas’ decaying skin in the strands. I nearly trip as I go down the stairs. I grab a bottle of wine from his home bar and take a breath.
I touch my lips. I’ll have to tell my parents that I’m not going to leave Lev. I just can’t see any way that I’d return to my previous life. Looking back now, it seems so empty.
When I return to his bedroom, he’s pulling off his shirt. When he turns, everything about him lures me closer. His body reminds me of the depictions of barbarians, nearly every muscle a reminder that he doesn’t need a gun to overpower anyone. Even where his waist narrows and the muscles ripple across his abdomen, he makes every other man I’ve ever seen appear trivial.
My hands are on him before I realize I’ve walked straight up to him. We kiss once, twice, three times as my heart beats wildly in my chest. His hands move to my waist, slipping under the band of my underwear, squeezing my ass.
He kisses beside my ear before pulling away for a second. “Your phone was ringing.”
I pull off my shirt. “It can wait.”
His gaze focuses on my breasts, pulling me tight against him. The heat between his legs presses against me and it still makes me shiver.
My phone starts ringing.
Lev kisses the top of my head. “You should answer it. I can jump back in at any time.”
“No, no, I can call them back,” I say, but I’m already grabbing my phone.
Nobody should be calling me after midnight. It’s Julia.
I answer the call. “Julia? What’s going on?”
“That’s what I was going to ask you,” she says. I glance at Lev. She knows about the engagement.
“Maybe we should talk about this later,” I say. “I meant to text you. We’re going to have dinner with my parents on Sunday.”
“Uh, okay,” she says. “But, Ally, is your dad okay?”
I stop. “What? Why wouldn’t he be okay? Did he call you? He shouldn’t have called you. If he has a problem, he should have the conversation with me.”
There’s a long pause.
“Julia?” I ask.
“Ally, I thought—” she stops. “I thought someone would have called you to assure you everything was okay. Nobody has called you?”
“Julia, what the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m sorry, Ally.” There’s a rustle of noise on the other end of the line. “There was a shooting outside of the police station. All I know is that some policemen were shot. I heard about it from some of the other EMTs. I wish I had been closer to my phone when the call came in. It happened nearly an hour ago. You haven’t gotten a call from your mom or dad yet?”
I can barely breathe. “No. No, I haven’t.”
“I’m sorry, Ally. I’ll try to get more information. I’ve heard that four policemen were brought into the hospital, but everything was such a mess. I’ll call some people, okay? We’ll find out what’s going on. Hang on, all right?”
“All right,” I echo.
“I love you, Ally. It’s going to be okay.”
She hangs up. Lev has moved beside me, his hands on my arms.
“What’s going on?” he asks. “What happened?”
I shake my head. “I have to call my parents.”
I turn away from him and dial my father’s number. It rings. And rings. And rings.
“This is Chief Harrington,” his voice mail answers. I hang up and immediately dial my parents’ landline. It rings. And rings. And rings. I hang up before the answering machine picks up.
“Something happened with your dad,” Lev guesses. “Do you want me to drive you to their house? The hospital?”
“I want somebody to answer their fucking phone,” I snarl. “What is the point of owning fucking cell phones if you’re not going to answer them?”
I dial my mother’s cell phone. It rings three times. I hang up and toss the phone on Lev’s bed. I cover my face with my hands, settling on the bed as I try to think. It’s past midnight. They’re sleeping. It makes perfect sense that they wouldn’t answer their phone.
I stand up. The world is unsteady as I start walking toward the door. Lev’s hand grips my elbow as he steadies me.
“Where do you want to go?” he asks.
“Home,” I say. I use the heel of my hands to hide any evidence of tears. “My parents’ house.”
He nods.
* * *
The lights in my parents’ house are on. It should be reassuring, but I know if my mother was in a rush to leave the house, she wouldn’t be worrying about the electric bill. Lev is still pulling into the driveway when I open the passenger door and bound out. I hear his voice, concerned and nearly angry, but I ignore it as I pound on my parents’ door.
After nearly five seconds pass by, I try the doorknob. It’s locked. I slam my fist against the door three more times.
Lev runs up beside me.
“Ally, two cars are in the garage—” he starts. The door swings open. My mother looks at the two of us, her eyes wide and confused.
“Mom.” I grab her, hugging her tightly before pulling away. “Where’s Dad? Is he okay?”
I’m nearly choking on my own voice. Lev’s hand settles on my back, his other hand on my hip.
My mother’s face softens. “Oh, Ally, I’m sorry, he’s fine. We should have called. I’m sorry. He’s not here. One of the officers picked him up and took him to the hospital to check on the policemen, but he’s fine. Come in. Please, come in. I’m so sorry to make you worry. Come in.”
My parents’ house is a tribute to law enforcement, the Marines, and houseplants. The walls are covered in newspaper clippings and photos of my father and grandfather’s service. The floors are covered with houseplants that prickle my legs every time I pass them.
My mother gestures for us to sit in the living room. “I’ve got some coffee started. I’ll get some tea for you, Ally. Is coffee good for you, Lev?”
“I’d be grateful for that, Mrs. Harrington,” he says.
I sit down on our couch—the same couch I filled out college applications on while my father helped me with the essays. Lev sits down beside me. His hand squeezes my knee before he leans forward to kiss my temple.
“Everything is good,” he says. “Just breathe. Your father is fine.”
I don’t say anything. My hands are shaking. He folds his hands over mine like he’s keeping them warm. I should be reassured—none of my worst fears c
ame true. My father wasn’t even hurt. But all I can think is: not this time. He wasn’t hurt this time. If he’d died tonight, I’d know that he was angry at me over a lie and that I ruined a man who gave me everything I could ever need.
The second thought creeps in slowly, but I push it away before it has time to make itself at home.
My mother returns with two cups of coffee in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. I take the tea from her and Lev takes the coffee.
“Thank you so much, Miss Harrington. I’m so sorry if we scared you,” Lev says.
“Oh no, it’s—it was my mistake. I should have called Ally.”
Lev is like the serpent in Eden, lulling her into a sense of faith in his words. I’d never noticed it before, but he did the same thing to me when he convinced me to marry him in exchange for keeping Douglas’ murder a secret. He must do it with every model he meets. He must do it with the board members in Mariya’s Revenge, assuring every one of them that the Bratva rumors won’t hurt their bottom line. He must do it with all of the Bratva members, allowing him to stay in power while they all kneel to him.
I thought his power over me was because we were compatible—not quite soul mates, but like the statues of Lady Justice, where I was the set of scales, weighing evidence, and he was the sword, carrying out justice.
Lev and my mother continue to talk, the conversation branching from Mariya’s Revenge to my mother’s green thumb. He tells her that his mother was killed and his father was a ‘deadbeat’ that disappeared. He lies so seamlessly, it’s embarrassing that I ever believed anything he ever told me.
The second thought sneaks back in: how certain am I that he was at a Mariya’s Revenge board meeting earlier tonight?
He told me quickly about it before leaving, saying he was discussing advertising for their new flavor of vodka. But he came home late and I never asked him about the meeting.
The way my mother is acting toward Lev, my father must not have told her the full story. On one hand, it seems insane to me that he wouldn’t forewarn his wife. On the other, I didn’t warn either of them.