I grab a glass off the tray of a passing waiter and glance around the room. Oleg and Cory are holding court near the bar. I’m guessing the guy is feeling pretty important right now – I’ve never indulged in any of Cory’s publicity stunts, so this is the first time I’ve agreed to a personal meeting. I make my way to the pair, who are surrounded by bulky men and beautiful women.
Watchful eyes the color of mud peer from Oleg’s rough-hewn face. He’s no fool, I can sense it. There’s no way I’m going to gloss away his suspicions with some sweet-talking and back slapping. Frankly, I imagine that if I laid a hand on this man, I’d lose it. I choose a different tack.
“Good afternoon, Sir,” I say politely. “I’m so glad you agreed to join us today.” His eyes narrow slightly. I know he’s trying to figure out my game. “Cory here tells me you enjoyed the show.” He nods. “I’m delighted,” I say smoothly. “And…I’m hoping you’ll agree to bring me back, Sir.”
I see Cory blink. He clears his throat. After all my bitching about doing this tour in the first place, I know he’s surprised to hear me asking for a repeat performance. Oleg rubs his chin. If he suspects me of being involved in the heist on his place, he’s probably wondering why I would ask to return. Would a guilty man go back to the scene of a crime? I’m hoping he thinks it’s unlikely. I’m hoping he’s assuming I’m just some glib showman looking out for another lucrative gig.
“I think that could be arranged,” he finally says, his rich Russian accent rolling the words around in his mouth. “And please, call me Oleg.” He smiles like a shark. But it’s a less dangerous shark. No longer a Great White or a Tiger…maybe a Whale Shark.
Who am I kidding? This man would eat me alive if he knew what I’d done.
“I will discuss it with your man,” Oleg is saying, talking about Cory. “But now, we drink!” He’s gesturing over to a waiter and points towards the bar. The man nods quickly and returns in moments with a bottle of Stoli Elit on ice, along with a cluster of shot glasses.
It’s going to be a crazy afternoon, but it’s a small price to pay.
∞∞∞
Three hours later, Cory and I are having angry words in the men’s room. He’s swaying slightly and grabs my arm. Partially to stop me, but I imagine he’s also steadying himself. He’s talking fast and erratically and I’m pretty sure my ‘friend’ has been hitting the cocaine with his new best buddies.
Oleg and his goons are heavy-handed with the booze and it’s making me foggy. I hate being drunk. I’m guessing they’re equally generous with the party drugs; I don’t touch that shit, but Cory isn’t as that careful. We’ve been swept in a swirl of over-affectionate girls who I’m certain are buzzing on Ecstasy, while the men having been getting increasingly edgy.
One of them had pulled out a Glock earlier and aimed it around the room, laughing like a crazy man. When he pointed it in the direction of the bartender, I thought I was going to puke. The barman barely flinched – I suspect it’s a ‘game’ he’s been subjected to enough times to know the rules. With a tight smile he’d hauled out yet another bottle of Stoli and slid it along the bar towards the idiot with the gun. A round of laughter had rattled through the group and the tension had dissipated. Not mine, however. A drunk with a weapon.Just great.
“C’mon, Sammy,” Cory is still on at me. “Jus’ a lil longer…I swear, I’m one step away from pulling that chick in the jumpsuit. Gimme a break, man, I haven’t been laid in days.” The bastard is lying. I’d seen him heading to his room with two girls the night before. Besides, I doubt he needs to work too hard to ‘pull’ the woman in question. A hundred-dollar bill would probably do the trick.
I shake my head. “I’m going back to my room,” I repeat. “Make my excuses and tell them I’ll see them around.” The set of my jaw tells him I’m not changing my mind and he spins unsteadily on his heel and stalks out of the room.
“Motherfucker,” I hear him mutter under his breath. It doesn’t bother me. Cory and I have exchanged insults enough times for it to roll like water off a duck’s back. I slip into the still-bustling room and quietly retrieve my coat. From the corner of my eye, I see Cory doing some fast-talking with Oleg. The man doesn’t look happy, and I’m pretty sure Cory’s shitting himself. That’s probably half the reason he wants me to stay. But I’m out of there before anyone can notice.
Disappearing acts are my specialty.
Twenty minutes after I get to my room, there’s a light knock at the door and I peer through the keyhole. I frown as I recognize Cory’s girl in the jumpsuit. Is he in trouble? My mind runs through scenarios. An overdose…an altercation with one of the goons… Has the damn fool had enough time to get himself dead already?
Fuck!
I yank open the door, and the girl looks up at me, licking her lips. I’ve stripped down to my pants and there’s a towel over my bare shoulder. I’d been headed to the shower to wash off the stench of booze and cigar smoke.
“Darling…I am Natasha…from the party,” she says as if she needs to remind me. Her accented voice is husky. ‘I thought you could use some…company?’
I draw my eyebrows down.What the fuck?
“Where’s Cory? Is he alright?” I ask. Her eyes are moving over my naked chest, and then lower. Hungry eyes. She looks back up at me. Oleg reminded me of a shark, and so does she. White teeth glitter behind over-red lips.
“He is fine, darling,” she says, stepping over the threshold toward me. “Oleg wants me to make sure you are fine too.” She reaches her hands forward, palming my pecs and brushing her thumbs over my nipples. “And you are…” she murmurs, licking her lips again. “So fine.”
Annoyance swirls within me like an oily flame. I’m reminded of another pair of hands against my chest. A girl in a parking lot, glaring up at me with a mixture of rage…and lust. In spite of the anger, there was something more pure about her expression. Nothing like the predatory gaze of this woman in front of me. In spite of the grooming and gloss, she seems…dirty. The front of her jumpsuit is cut so low I can almost see her navel, and if she takes a deep breath, her tits are going to swing out. I’m willing to bet Natasha’s attentions have come with a price tag. I peel her fingers from my skin and push her away.
“Tell Oleg I’m great,” I tell her firmly, “I won’t be needing any company today.” Her mouth drops open as I shut the door in her face and turn back toward the bathroom. I need that shower more than ever.
But even fifteen minutes of scalding hot water can’t wash away the feeling of being unclean. I flop onto the giant bed in pair of snug black trunks and rake my fingers through my wet hair. I’m glad I sent Natasha away, but I’m feeling more alone than ever.
An impulse is forming; something foolish, and I know I shouldn’t do it even as it takes hold. Maybe it’s the effects of the vodka. Maybe it’s the sense of emptiness…
I pick up the phone and hit a number that’s become as familiar as home.
Chapter 13
Late Night Call
