Nikolai

by Sandy Alvarez

  I watch Jake ride off before returning inside. Leah has the phone to her ear, so I leave her to her work and head for my office. Sitting on my desk is a steaming cup of coffee, a croissant, and a small yellow sticky note stuck to my computer screen.

  Thank you.

  8

  Leah

  A noise wakes me from sleep. It takes me a second to realize that the sound I hear is voices coming from outside my bedroom window. And one of them is my dad's. Then there is another voice, and that one sounds angry. Me being curious, I climb out of my bed, put my glasses on, and pad over to the bedroom window. My bedroom is at the back of the house facing the backyard, and standing in the backyard in the dark is my dad and three other men. Two of the men are standing over next to the big oak tree I liked to climb. The other man: the one with the scary voice, is standing with my dad by his work shed. The man takes two steps and puts his face close to my dad's. His voice gets louder. My heart starts pumping fast because dad doesn't like it when people raise their voices to him. When I raise my voice to daddy, I get punished. Daddy doesn't punish this man, though. Daddy doesn't do anything. A minute later, the scary guy says something to the two men by the tree. Then my daddy turns toward his shed and unlocks it. The shed is where daddy keeps his tools for when he fixes stuff around the house. Maybe the scary man is here to help daddy fix something. But why would they do that in the middle of the night?

  Clutching my teddy to my chest, I watch as the scary man and daddy step inside the shed. Daddy turns the light on, and I gasp. There's a girl in there. She's sitting on the floor with her arms hugging her knees. She has long blonde hair. I can't see her face because it's buried in her knees. I watch as daddy crouches down next to the girl. When he does, the girl looks up. She looks sad. Her face is wet like she's been crying too, and that makes me sad. Maybe she's lost and misses her family. I bet that's what it is. Not feeling sad anymore, I smile. The man isn't so scary. Like the girl, he was worried too. He must be her daddy. That's why daddy and the man are in the backyard. Daddy must have found the lost girl and is giving her back to her family. That's his job because he's a cop. Daddy helps people. With a big smile on my face, I step away from the window and climb back into bed.

  The next morning, I'm sitting at the table eating a bowl of cereal while daddy sits across from me, drinking his coffee and reading the paper. The TV in the living room is on when the local news starts to play. A picture of the girl from daddy's shed flashes across the screen. The newsman says she's missing. I sit up straight in my seat and point to the TV. "Look, daddy! It's the girl from last night. The one you gave back to her family."

  Mom gasps and daddy suddenly looks at me with surprise. His surprise quickly turns to anger. I don't like daddy's angry face. His angry face means I'm going to be punished. Only I don't know what I did wrong.

  Waking from my nightmare, I fight against the tightening in my chest as my throat starts to close. I reach over to the table beside my bed for my inhaler. Shaking it, I place it to my mouth and breathe in the best I can and wait for the medicine to take effect. That dream is just one of many that play on repeat at night when I go to sleep. I was seven when that incident took place. At seven, I didn't fully understand what I had witnessed that night. My father also made sure I never opened my mouth about it again too. That day, at seven years old, was the day I earned my first broken bone. My father made sure I kept my mouth shut by breaking my jaw. Though officially, I had fallen from the tree in my backyard. It wasn't until weeks later when mom was watching the news and that same girl I saw in dad's shed, flashed across the TV again. She was still missing. I didn't get a chance to hear more before mom quickly cut the TV off. She stood up from the sofa and went into the kitchen to prepare dinner. I could tell by her strange behavior she knew something terrible had happened and that dad was involved. Another lesson I learned at seven years old was that my dad was no hero. He was a monster. Deep down in my bones, I believe my father did something to that missing girl.

  What's worse, is to this day, I've kept my mouth shut about what I saw that night. I haven't told a soul about the truths I know; the truth about the man who raised me, not even Sam or Alba. My friends and The Kings think my dad is just an abuser, a man who wants to control his daughter. What they don't know is James Winters doesn't care about having some power trip over me. He cares about my silence. I'm the only person who knows what he has done and what he is capable of. Maybe it's time I tell someone. I want to stop being afraid. I want to stop looking over my shoulder whenever I go out. I want my father to pay for the things he has done. He's made me the scared and weak person I am today. I don't like who I am, who he has made me. Maybe it's time I take my life back.

  Later that morning, I'm sitting in the kitchen with a cup of coffee when Sam comes in, dressed for the day, his hair still wet from his shower. "Hey, darlin'."

  "Morning," I smile.

  Sam pours himself a cup of coffee then faces me. He eyes me over the rim of the mug. Last night Sam talked to me about moving out. The Kings have offered him a place in the club. He is officially a Prospect. Or will be later when they have a party welcoming him into their fold. I put on a brave face and assured him I was okay to live on my own. I'm not good at hiding my feelings, so I suspect Sam didn't believe me when I said I would be fine.

  "Would you quit looking at me like that," I fuss. "I'll be fine, Sam. Quit treating me like I'm some fragile broken girl who can't take care of herself."

  "I don't think of you like that, Leah." Sam sets his cup down. "You are one of the strongest people I know. But you are also one of my friends, and I will always look out for you. You're like a sister to me, Leah."

  My face softens at Sam's declaration. "I know. And you're like a brother to me, which is why I am happy for you. I'm happy you're moving on. Now go on and finish packing," I shoo him away. "Stop worrying about me. I'll be fine."

  Sam kisses the top of my head. "Okay. If at any time you need anything, you call. The clubhouse is only five minutes away. Understand?" Sam studies me, and I nod.

  An hour later, Sam finishes packing his clothes and is gone. I stand alone in an apartment that suddenly feels too big. I lied through my teeth when I said I would be fine. But no way was I going to let my fears and problems hold Sam back from moving on with his life. When he told me his big news last night, I knew I had to put on my bravest face and convince him I was good at being on my own. I'm over the moon for my friend. The connection he has built over the last year with the club has been a true testament that Sam has found his place, his family. And there is no way I can stand in the way of that.

  Deciding I need to get out for a while, I go to my bedroom, throw on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a pair of tennis shoes. Next, I go to the bathroom and pull my hair up into a ponytail at the top of my head. As I head out, I make the mistake of catching a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. I usually go out of my way to avoid them. I suck in a deep breath and sigh at the girl staring back at me. Nothing has changed. Same dull eyes framed by black-rimmed glasses. Same unmanageable curly brown hair, and pouty lips that would look killer on a supermodel but paired with my round face just looks odd. And same pudgy tummy and full hips. Over the last year, I have started and stopped countless diets, but every time Nikolai catches me starting one, he practically force-feeds me. When I go into work in the mornings, there will be pastries or donuts from The Cookie Jar on my desk, and at lunchtime, he drags me to the dinner. If he's out on a job and can't take me, lunch is promptly delivered to the office at noon.

  Thoughts of Nikolai bring me back to what he said to me the other day, and my tummy flutters. "Those things he said are not true. You're beautiful, Malyshka."

  My thoughts drift from Nikolai to what happened with John, the flutters disappear, and a chill runs down my spine. I don't want to think about what would have happened had Nikolai not shown up. When that guy approached me, I froze. I clammed up and felt helpless. His words play on repeat inside my head. "
A big girl like you takes what she can get." That night when I phoned Alba and told her what happened, she mentioned the gym in town offers self-defense classes. So, that's what I am going to do today. I'm going to see what those classes are about. This morning when I woke up and vowed to get my life back, I meant it. And it starts today.

  Pulling up in front of the local gym, I grab my purse and climb out of my car. A car I'm proud to say I saved up for and bought myself. It was Jake who came to me six months ago with it. He bought it off some old guy and fixed it up at the garage. He tried to give it to me. I refused to accept it unless I made a monthly payment to him. Jake didn't like it, but he understood it was vital for me to pay my way. The car is a 2005 Nissan. Not fancy by any means, but thanks to the club, it runs excellent, and it's mine. The registration, of course, is not in my name, and I didn't ask any questions about the Montana driver's license Jake gave me, but I assume it's a fake. The club is smart. They wouldn't do anything that would trace my dad back to me. I've learned to go with the flow and trust the club.

  The bell over the gym door chimes, alerting the woman behind the reception desk to my arrival. The woman is tall, at least six inches taller than me, has her long blonde hair pulled back into a high ponytail. She is wearing a shirt with the gym's name and logo on it and a pair of black and yellow yoga pants. When she turns away from the counter behind her, she gives me a beaming smile. "Hi. Can I help you?"

  "I think so. I heard you offer self-defense classes."

  "You heard, right. Why don't you come on over here and I'll tell you more about the class?"

  I step closer to the counter, and when I do, the woman reaches her arm across. "My name is Samantha."

  I shake her hand. "I'm Leah."

  "It's nice to meet you, Leah."

  "You too."

  Samantha pulls out a sheet of paper and places it in front of me. "This is a listing of all the gym has to offer. As you can see here," she points, "we teach self-defense classes every Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday. The Monday and Wednesday classes are at 4:00 pm, and our Saturday class is at 1:00 pm. You can sign up for all three days or just one. That's up to you."

  "Are you the one who teaches the class?" I ask.

  "Oh, no. I teach the senior class and yoga and sometimes work the front like today. Rhett teaches the self-defense class."

  "Did somebody say my name?"

  At the sound of a deep masculine voice, I look to my left to see a man approaching. The guy is tall, has short blond hair, and an easy-going smile.

  "Hi, Rhett. Leah here was asking about your self-defense class. I was just filling her in on the details," Samantha informs the man.

  The guy turns away from Samantha and brings his attention to me. He smiles and offers his hand. "Hi, Leah, I'm Rhett, the owner."

  Like with Samantha, I take his hand. "Hi."

  Rhett gives me a warm smile, and his kindness instantly puts me at ease.

  "There is a class starting in ten minutes. How about you sit in and watch, then you can decide from there if it's something you are interested in."

  I nod. "Okay."

  Rhett jerks his chin. "You can follow me."

  Walking side by side, Rhett leads me to the back of the gym, where he has several large mats set up. "The classes aren't huge. We have eight ladies coming in this afternoon."

  As soon as the words leave his mouth, three women make their way toward us—all three dressed in spandex shorts. Short so short, the material barely covers their butts and tops that look more like bras. The women are also sporting full face makeup and perfectly styled hair, which makes absolutely no sense to me. One of the women, a redhead, proceeds to size me up. Her lips turn up in a sneer. She looks me up and down before looking to my right where Rhett is standing, then back to me. Her sneer quickly morphs into a smirk. I know what she's thinking. It's what all women think when they see me. Under her watchful, judgmental eye, I begin to fidget. I want to tell her she has nothing to worry about. Unlike her, I'm here to learn something, not land a man. Not that Rhett isn't cute, I'm just not interested. He's not him.

  An hour later, the class has ended, and as the women clear out, Rhett makes his way over toward me, ignoring the redhead. "So, what did you think?" He wipes away the sweet on his forehead with a towel."

  I push my glasses up my nose. "I haven't decided yet."

  "I can't stress how important it is for a woman to learn how to take control of any given situation. It's sad, but far too often, women are hurt or worse because they didn't have the tools to protect themselves," Rhett tells me, and I can hear the passion in his voice.

  "I get it. Something happened to me a couple of days ago. I was scared."

  Rhett's back goes straight. "Are you okay?"

  "Yeah. Luckily, my boss showed up and stopped a guy from harassing me. A friend told me about the classes here, and I figured it was a good idea to come check it out. So, I can prepare for next time."

  "I'm glad your friend told you about us. I hope you consider signing up, Leah."

  "I think I will. Thanks for letting me watch the class today. I think what you do is important."

  Rhett gives me a warm smile, then reaches down to the duffle bag at his side and pulls something out. It looks like a business card. Using a pen, he scribbles something on it and hands it over. "Take my card. I put my cell number on the back. If my current classes don't jive with your schedule and you want me to train you one on one, then that is what we'll do."

  I take the card from him and put it in my purse. "Thank you."

  "Come on. I'll walk you out."

  Accepting his offer, I let Rhett walk me out to my car. "Thanks for everything, and I'll be sure to think about your offer."

  "You're welcome, Leah. I hope to hear from you soon."

  Later that day, I'm chatting with Alba and telling her about my day when she screeches through the phone. "Oh, my God, Leah! The guy is totally into you."

  I roll my eyes. "You're crazy. He was only being nice to a potential client."

  "You are oblivious."

  "What is that supposed to mean?"

  "It means you are a knockout but don't know it. You don't see what everyone else sees."

  "I look in the mirror every day. I know what people see."

  "Oh, Leah." Alba's voice goes soft. "You are so unbelievably gorgeous. And one day, you're going to open those eyes of yours and realize it."

  Uncomfortable with where this conversation is heading, I change the subject. "Hey, did you land that book cover you were telling me about last week?"

  Lucky for me, my friend goes along with it.

  "Did you ever have a doubt I wouldn't," she teases, and I laugh.

  "No."

  9

  Nikolai

  I spot Logan standing outside as I pull up to the clubhouse. Beside him is the custom Harley he's been working on for the past two months. Climbing from the truck, I stride across the front yard. Logan tosses me the keys. "She's primed and ready for the road, brother," Logan stands to look at his handy work with pride.

  Stepping up to the bike, I comb over every detail. The straight chrome pipes have a mirrored sheen—a deep color of crimson coats the gas tank and fender, accented with perfectly airbrushed ghost flames. I run my palm over the luxurious black leather seats and custom saddlebags. I'd ridden a few times growing up, but didn't truly find a love for it and the open roads until moving to Polson. Like fighting, riding has become therapeutic. Throwing my leg over, I straddle my bike. "Thank you, brother."

  "Try her out." Logan grins.

  "We ride together?" I place the key into the ignition.

  "Shit. You don't have to ask me twice," Logan strides a couple of yards away, and mounts his bike.

  The loud guttural rumble only a Harley makes seems to beat in sync with my heartbeat, only louder. The engine roars, giving the throttle a few twists, and the smell of gasoline fumes mixed with heat invigorate the senses, as I pull away from the clubhouse with my bro
ther at my side. Once we pull out onto the open road, I open her up. I settle back in the low-slung seat, as we cruise down the highway, feeling the rush of the wind as it hits my face. A calm settles over me, letting the bike become an extension of myself. She's in control now.

  By the time Logan and I return to the clubhouse, almost an hour has passed, and the heaviness I was feeling left somewhere on the road. "I needed that," I tell my brother as we make our way into the dimly lit clubhouse.

  "Good ride." Logan clasps my shoulder. "I'll hit the road with you anytime, just say the word." Jake and Gabriel are sitting at the bar. "Prez, Gabriel," Logan greets them.

  "I was wondering where the hell you two disappeared," Jake grunts, lifting a mug of coffee to his lips.

  "Nikolai took his new ride for a spin this morning, and I rode with him." Logan pulls a stool from the bar beside Jake and sits.

  Jake looks at me as I settle into the stool on the other side of Gabriel. "My brothers did a stellar fuckin' job on that custom Harley. How'd she ride?"

  "Smooth," I tell him, and he nods.

  "You should ride with us next weekend. We're going to show support for a young girl who is confronting her abuser in court and hoping for emancipation from her family," Jake mentions, and my mind automatically thinks of Leah.

  "Alba took Leah shopping today. I'm sure my woman will be draggin' that girl here tonight," Gabriel tells Jake, something I was already aware of. Sam strides into the room, joining us at the bar as Jake responds to Gabriel.

  "I don't know why Alba forces that girl to come here. The poor thing is afraid of her own damn shadow. Being around all us men makes her unease even worse," Jake replies.