I go upstairs to my room, but the crunch of car tires on the dirt drive outside sends me to the window.
I watch as Maxim, Oleg, the giant bratva enforcer, and Story, his musician girlfriend, climb out of an SUV. Story’s hair has changed color since I saw her last week. Instead of all platinum, her bob is now accented with two bold chunks of a beautiful magenta in the front.
Oleg brings a cooler in with him, and Maxim carries a plastic crate filled with what looks like wires and cords or other electronic equipment.
I hear the door open and shut, and Dima’s surly tones before he heads out to the SUV. I should go downstairs, but I hesitate, feeling awkward. I don’t know how they all feel about me now. I open my door quietly and stand out on the upper balcony, looking down. They don’t see me.
“I’ve never seen Dima so upset. Is Nikolai that bad?” Story asks from the living room. “I thought Ravil said he was going to be okay?”
Maxim grunts. “It’s possible Dima’s mood relates more to a certain redhead who’s under his skin.” He peers into Nikolai’s bedroom.
“Hey, guys.” I lift an awkward hand and come down the stairs.
“Heyyyy, girl. How are you?” Story wraps me in a hug when I reach the bottom of the stairs, and I instantly feel better.
“Not great,” I admit.
“We stopped in and fed your cat before we came. What’s his name?”
“Mr. Whiskers. Thank you so much.”
She looks me up and down. “I’m sorry, I should’ve thought to bring you some clothes. We brought food, though.”
I tug on the stupid dress. I didn’t put on the fishing shirt, since I don’t have any shorts to wear it with. At least I can use it as a sleep shirt tonight, though. “Yeah. I’m about ready to cut a hole in a pillowcase to wear it instead.”
Story smiles. “I’m sure you could rock a pillowcase, and I’m pretty handy with a pair of scissors if you want to try.” She gestures to her black leggings, which have deliberate slashes up the thighs and down the sides of the calves, showing her pale skin. She’s always a few measures of punk but underneath the counter-culture clothes, she’s model-beautiful, which makes her mesmerizing. I think that is literally how Oleg fell in love with her. He got obsessed with watching her perform on stage.
Dima comes back in with another box that looks like it's filled with computer equipment, and he and Maxim shut themselves in the office.
Story heads toward the kitchen. “We did bring some groceries although Dima says he already picked some stuff up.”
I follow her into the kitchen where Oleg had set the cooler and help unload stuff. It’s good—way more than the basics Dima bought. A couple of bags of salad mixes, fresh vegetables, and fruits, some deli meat for sandwiches, and an already roasted chicken.
“This is great, thanks.”
She touches my arm. “Hey. Is there something going on with you and Dima? He seemed tense.”
I turn it back around on her. I need information here. “Why does everything think there’s something going on between us?”
Story shoots a glance to Oleg, who pulled up a chair at the table to sit. Oleg shrugs. “I don’t know, it seemed like he was into you,” Story says. “Am I wrong?”
Deciding what I really need here now is some girl talk, I tip my head toward the front door. “Want to go outside for a minute?”
“Sure.” Story immediately follows me out, not hesitating or asking permission. She doesn’t seem to know or think that I’m a prisoner here. But I doubt that she is a part of the bratva thing. She just happened to fall in love with one of its members—her giant, mute protector. The guy who looks at her like she’s more beautiful than the moon itself.
We go outside onto the front porch and sit on the steps. “I’m seriously so mixed up. I could use a second opinion here,” I admit.
“Okay, give me the scoop.”
“I mean, I thought Dima was into me, too. He seemed interested. He booked a few massages, and he tips big. But that’s when things just got weird.”
“Weird, how?”
“He couldn’t relax. He’d have a boner the entire time and just got progressively more grumpy with each session. I thought he must be attracted to me, but he never asked me out. And do you remember that time I came to your show?”
“Of course. You two came together, right?”
“No! That’s just it. I asked him if he was going. I was trying to make it a casual date-thing, you know? But he said no. And then he turned up anyway and glared at everyone I talked to—it was so weird.”
A slow smile spreads across Story’s face. “He obviously is crushing on you.”
I nibble my lip. I want to tell her the rest—everything. I’m dying for a sounding board here. “We sort of hooked up this morning. But then he said it was a mistake,” I blurt.
Her smile fades. “Oh. That sucks.” She pulls me into a hug I didn’t know I needed.
I have to fight the tears back, or I will completely lose it.
“That’s so weird. Is it...I mean, I don’t know what happened to Nikolai, and I’m not supposed to know, but is it about that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. But it feels more like he has a girlfriend back in Russia or something. Have you heard anything about that?”
“I can ask Oleg. All I know is that the reason Dima booked a massage with you was because Nikolai said he was going to. Dima was really pissed at him—and he’s usually so easy-going, I knew something was up.”
“What?”
“Maybe they’re fighting over you? Like they both like you, so Dima’s going to let Nikolai have you? Or they both agreed not to pursue you? I don’t know, I’m just spitballing.”
I consider my conversation with Nikolai this morning. He didn’t seem like he wanted me. But then again, he was sort of pumping me for information about what had happened between us. And Dima did seem pissed when he came in, and I was massaging Nikolai’s hand.
Could Story be right? This is nuts!
The door opens, and Maxim and Oleg step out.
“Are we leaving already?” Story asks in surprise. Oleg nods. She gives me another quick hug. “Don’t worry, I’ll look after Mr. Whiskers. And if someone drives out here again, I’ll pack you a bag of clothes.”
“Thanks.”
Story and I aren’t that close, but it seems like we should be.
When I get back—provided I make it through all this—I’m going to seek out her companionship more often. Go to her shows. Maybe listen to her band practice—I know they have a studio in the building now.
I stand and walk inside, feeling much better. Nothing beats having a friend to talk to, even when nothing gets solved.
Maybe one thing got solved. I am certain Dima’s into me.
So I don’t have to cower like a scared little bunny.
I have power here, and I plan to use it.
Dima
As soon as I get my computer open and set up so it’s untraceable, I video conference with Dr. Taylor to show him Nikolai’s wound and give him an update, then I start hacking. Alex Volkov will be sorry he fucked with my family.