“T, he was prolly about to give us what you wanted,” Juvie argued.
“I do not think so, Julien Reed,” Mikhail countered calmly, his eyes trained on his phone, no doubt calling for help for Grigor and Timur during the clean-up process.
Turning my head slightly I eyed Juvie, “He was about to waste our fucking time. I know that's not who did it, at least not alone, because he wouldn’t have been afraid. He was scared. That wasn’t about some crime family from Mississippi, even if they are considered powerful. This shit is about something else.”
Reaching behind me, I pulled out my Ruger.
“Besides... he shouldn't have called her a bitch,” I said before my index finger curled around the trigger and pulled.
Igor's head shattered.
Satisfaction uncurled inside me. But it wasn't complete. It wouldn't be until I had the pleasure of annihilating whoever dared to come for her.
Her tear-streaked face materialized in my memory suddenly. That image troubled me more than eradicating Oleg and Igor had. My shorty had been too sad for too long. I was going to fix that, with or without her permission.
(Saturday,June 14)
I was cold. Shivering, teeth chattering cold as the makeup artist stroked concealer over the circles under my eyes. I hadn’t slept well the last couple of nights, and it showed.
The physical cold of the building had nothing on the ice I felt inside. I hated the control he had over my emotions, but Targen Jones-Sidorov was breaking my heart. My defense was to ice him out. He probably didn’t notice, the way he’d been staying away from me. After we got back Thursday, he’d disappeared. He was gone all Friday, too. He slipped into bed with me silently the last two nights and didn’t even touch me. He’d woken me early this morning by shaking my shoulder before gruffly telling me to get up and get showered. A surprisingly quiet Juvie haddriven me to a small, Russian Orthodox church. After opening the door for me, he’d grabbed me in a one-armed hug.
“You know it’s gon’ be okay, right?” he asked.
I’d given him a half smile. The moment I walked in, I was swept up by a team there to get me ready for this joke of a wedding. The sleeveless, cowl-neck dress I’d taken into the dressing room was there. So was a seamstress who hemmed and hawed and pinned and tucked before demanding I step out of the dress so she could do last minute alterations. I was handed over to a hairstylist, who mostly let my natural spirals do their thing, pulling them back in front to accommodate the little veiled hat I’d be wearing. I needed to ask about her products, though, because my coils were shiny and bouncing around my shoulders. And now the makeup… Closing my eyes, I fought back tears to keep from ruining this man’s work. I had lied to Targen. I wanted my parents. I wanted my grandparents. I wanted my quirky sister and my bossy cousins. I wanted my life. Sighing heavily, I rubbed my hands over my goose bumped arms.
“You okay?” the makeup artist asked softly.
I nodded as I heard a door open behind me. He looked up, then paused mid-brushstroke.
“She looks gorgeous, but we got it. Thank you.”
My eyes popped open at the sound of my cousin Emory’s authoritative voice. The mirror in front of me reflected the angry and irritated faces of women who loved me.
“You really thought you was gon’ just elope? Really?” Mama snapped before striding over to lightly smack my upper arm.
“Ma—” I started, then shook my head, fighting to swallow myriad emotions.
“I already got onto that boy. You wanna explain yourself, Theory Grace?” Granny Nette asked, one hand on her hip.
There was something about the familiarity of their poses, their tones. I took a deep breath…
…And burst out crying.
It took a lot of hugs and reassurances from my mother and grandmother to get me calmed down enough to be able to even talk to them. I was so glad to see them, to be in their warm supportive presence. Granny Nette clucked and cooed over me.
“It’s your nerves. It will be okay,” she murmured once I swore I wanted this wedding.
I felt compelled to go along with the Sidorovs’ lie, tired of my family being in jeopardy because of my poor choices. I sat quietly as Emory removed my now-botched makeup job, avoiding my sister Epiphany’s knowing gaze. The fact that she wasn’t saying whatever she thought aloud surprised me.
“How did y’all find out?” I finally inquired.
“Targen came a couple of weeks ago to ask for your hand in marriage, asked us to keep it a secret. I thought we would plan a wedding after the proposal. I didn’t know your fast ass was going to try to elope. Thank God Targen felt bad,” Mama fussed, her side eye strong. “He came last night talking about he thought you needed family here. Obviously, he was right.”
I frowned. I had told him the exact opposite, and he still went…
“Where’s Daddy?” I asked suddenly, shaking my head, trying to clear it.
“Out there with PawPaw and the rest of them. He’s just waiting to find out if he’s escorting you down the aisle or blowing this shit up,” my cousin Everly said.
