They drag me to an elevator and when it arrives, Igor gives me a shove between the shoulder blades making me stumble inside. “Hey, I’m cooperating so you can cut the tough guy shit.” Then I stamp his foot so hard he releases me, which gives me time to bolt, or I would have if the elevator doors didn’t choose that time to close.
Igor grabs me by the throat and shoves me up against the wall. “When this is over, I’m gonna rip you apart.”
“Easy, Igor,” Wheelman says. “We give her to the boss, then our job is done.”
“Better fucking be done,” Igor replies, but steps back.
“When we get to the room,” Wheelman says to me, “You’ll wanna shut your mouth and behave yourself because the boss isn’t as nice as us.”
The boss turns out to be Denis Kozlov, a small-time Russian thug who thinks he’s gonna take over Vegas from the real Russian mob. Still, he’s stupid and deadly, which makes me pause.
The other thing that makes me pause is the sight of my father ruining a nice white leather couch by sitting on it. He stands when he sees me.
Father, aka Jonathan Fleming aka Jonny Fry to his friends for some unknown reason is a tall guy in his late 40s. He’s broad, but angular and since the last time I saw him, which was almost two years ago, he’s grown a bit of a paunch. He’s considered relatively good looking though, except for his narrow long nose, which I unfortunately inherited. So did Henri.
Unlike me, he has a real gambling problem and when he runs out of money he usually comes knocking on my door. As if I have any to give him.
“What are you doing here?” I exclaim. It’s clear he got the same welcome-wagon treatment I did. His face is slightly bruised and he’s holding his stomach like he’s been punched one too many times.
“He’s a good friend of mine,” Kozlov says like he’s being clever.
I’m no longer feeling anything but rage because this is so fucking typical. Dad, tough guy when I was a kid, made mom and me fend for ourselves after he walked out. “I wasn’t talking to you!” I snarl at the Russian.
“Selkie,” dad says in a commanding voice. “Shut it. This isn’t the time or place.”
“Don’t you tell me what to do! I haven’t seen you for two years. Two years! And this is your idea of a reunion!” As much as I hate to admit it, there’s still this little girl inside me who wants her dad to love her and sometimes I forget to keep her buried.
“Selkie, we can air our dirty laundry another time.”
“He’s right,” Kozlov says as he scrutinizes me. The tangled hair, the bruised cheek, the ripped T-shirt. Then he says to Wheelman and Igor, “I told you to bring her in, not maul her.”
Igor lifts his bandaged hand. “She objected vigorously.”
Kozlov tsks at me. “Why would you be so reckless?”
“She has no common sense,” dad answers for me.
I explode. “One of you bastards better explain what the fuck I’m doing here or I’m gonna set this place on fire!”
“Stop with the bullshit,” Igor says, grabbing my arm again. Same arm that he keeps grabbing.
I turn and punch him square in the face with every ounce of strength I have. He reels back, lands ass down on the carpet and starts howling.
“You broke my fucking jaw, you bitch,” he wails.
I lift my foot to stomp his balls when I’m wrestled away by my dad.
“Settle down for Christ sake, Selkie! This isn’t kindergarten.”
I yank out of his grip and turn on him. “Explain, right now!”
He sighs. “I needed a loan to cover a debt. Denis gave me one.”
I give him a death glare. “And you accuse me of not having common sense!”
Kozlov says, “Payment is overdue. You’re going to hang out here while your father goes and gets it.”
“Why would you think that I’m collateral? He doesn’t give a fuck about me.”
