“Because it’s true.”
“Oh, please do lecture me on the college girls, Mr. Stalker.” Ludi had shacked up with a girl in his cabin for two days. He married her and put a baby in her within thirty days. She was twenty-four and barely out of college.
He smiled and pulled out his wallet to retrieve a piece of paper. He showed it to me. It was black and white, and I didn’t have a clue what I was looking at. “What is it?”
“My kid.”
I snatched the paper from his hand, studied it, then gave it back. “It’s beautiful.”
“Eat me, Nikola.”
I laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.
We walked back outside and found Maks dragging the girl and the girl trying to struggle against the pull. My beast switch flipped. I walked up to the Russian and socked him, then continued pounding into him on the ground. Ludi grabbed me around the waist and hauled back while Ivana dragged the Russian away from me. All the while, the patrons screamed, and the girl stood there, mouth agape.
Lifting my bloody hands, I said. “I’m good. It’s done.”
Ludi let me go and cursed at me in Serbian three ways from Sunday, but I didn’t care. I walked over to the girl, picked her up, and slung her over my shoulder. Spinning around, I looked around at the now-quiet party people. “Carry on.”
3
As I carried her up three flights of stairs, the girl didn’t resist or say anything. In my bedroom, I dropped her on the bed, expecting I’d have to explain things, but when I stepped back, I found her crawling up to the pillows and laying her head on it, closing her eyes.
Hands on my hips, I thought that one day, hopefully sooner rather than later, when I had a daughter, I would never ever let her go to college. Or a grocery store.
I grabbed the fluffy blanket I kept on my reading chair and covered the girl, then hovered a bit above her. She already slept. I could fuck her all night, dump her outside, and she’d never know what happened. In the morning, she’d wake up sore down there and wonder what had happened. Fucking puppies. Always getting into trouble.
I opened the doors that led to the balcony and found the party went on sans Maks, who’d likely left in fury straight to his boss. At the bar, Ivana entertained the girl’s friends, laughing at whatever the girls were saying. She saw me and mouthed something I didn’t care to decipher ’cause I was sure it was negative. I already knew I’d hear from Mikhail tomorrow.
I left the girl in my bedroom, and Puss-I locked the door behind me. Couples lingered in the hallway as I passed them on the way to the secluded and guarded part of my house. In this wing, I walked on quiet feet, even though I knew my dad slept deep these days. Morphine did that to people. Puss-I unlocked the door, and Nurse Tiffany—maybe that was her name—rose from the chair, blinking. She’d been sleeping too.
“I’ll stay the night,” I said.
She gathered up her things and dashed out the door.
As Dad snored, I sat in the nurse’s chair, already set in the reclining position. I folded my arms behind my head and stared at the dim light on the ceiling, willing my thoughts in the Italian direction. Trouble was, the girl occupied my mind for the better part of the evening, and eventually, I gave up thinking of other things and fell asleep in the chair.
“Nikola.”My dad’s voice woke me.
“Yeah,” I groaned and sat up.
“It’s nice of you to visit.”
I rolled my eyes, stood, stretched. “I visit every day, Dad.”
“No, you don’t. Your sister visits every day, sometimes all day. Not you. My boy. Too busy for his family. Too busy to live. How’s the business?”
I didn’t have a sister, but as was the case in most Serbian households, Dad referred to Ivana, a female first cousin, as my sister. “You’re feeling chatty this early.”
“Early? It is ten past noon.”
“Shit.” I worked out the kinks in my neck and rubbed the place on my back where the butt of my gun had dug in overnight. I flexed my fingers. Sore. Fuck. I grabbed my phone and climbedonto Dad’s bed at the same time. I kissed my dad on the cheek. “What do you wanna eat?”
Dark brown eyes, same color as mine, narrowed. “What is wrong with you, and where is my son?”
I smiled. “Don’t be an asshole. Pancakes?”
“Crepes.”
