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All I can hope for is that she’s dressed and groomed enough to be presentable to the Albanian boss. It would be a reflection of Remi’s poor parenting if she were to show up wearing wrinkled sweats with her hair full of dry shampoo.
“Okay, but I really mean it. I need you out here in under five minutes. Slava’s waiting in the car out front,” I reply, trying to sound as neutral as I possibly can.
I don’t want her to think I’m excited about her departure from my life despite all the conflicts we’ve had. I also don’t want her to know that I’ve been dreading this day because it hurts to see her go.
She opens the door slowly, emerging in a simple but tasteful blue dress with her hair sleek and straightened. It’s a relief to see her looking well again, and I’m not going to complain about having to look at her when she’s dressed like this.
Her expression is one of resignation, something that she’s had to dive headfirst into since she’s realized that her fate is sealed. If this is how she feels about meeting this guy, I can’t imagine what the rest of her life is going to be like. She’ll probably end up addicted to valium, locked up in a psych ward like her mother.
Without a word, we both head downstairs to meet the driver at the front door. He’d expressed some relief at having Mika gone from the house, but the weight of her situation isn’t lost on him. He might even feel a bit guilty about what he’d said about her when he was drunk.
The drive to the secret meeting place is somber and a little uncomfortable. Nobody knows what to say, and the brief conversation that ensues feels forced and inorganic. Everyone is thinking the same thing, and the tension rises with every mile as we drive into the city.
The designated meeting place is an old Russian deli run by an associate of Remi’s. The place is used primarily for money laundering, but they sell incredible food as well to keep the suspicion low. There’s a back hallway that leads to a flight of stairs descending into the basement where we find an old mortuary.
“Jesus, what did they used to do down here?” Mika asks as we pass a metal table directly below a derelict surgical light.
“Your father wasn’t really clear, but I think he said they used to embalm bodies down here before the upstairs was turned into a shop,” I reply, glancing around as if I’m going to see a jar with a head floating in it.
“Don’t be a pussy,” Slava interjects, mainly to me.
There’s an old office off the main embalming room, and we’ve been instructed to meet the Albanians there.
When we enter, I notice that there are no members of the Bratva present, including Remi. I should be pissed that he’s placing so much responsibility on me, but I’m mostly just relieved that he’s not here to micromanage the way that Mika behaves. He gets particularly agitated about her attitude when he’s around people he wants to impress.
“Welcome,” says a familiar, fat man at the end of a long rectangular table. “You’re right on time, I appreciate the punctuality.”
I nod, trying not to engage with this man in any way that isn’t strictly required of me. He wants to get on my good side, but I need to stay vigilant. Despite the arrangement, these people are not our allies.
“Mika, I’ve heard so much about you. You’re a lovely young woman. I trust that you’ll be a perfect fit for my son,” he continues, motioning over to Izet, who sits to his right.
Izet is even more reptilian and disconcerting to look at up close. His eyes are just a bit too far apart, as are his nose and mouth. I couldn’t begin to guess what kinds of substances his mother was consuming when he was still a fetus, but there wassomething.I’m sure of it.
“Hello Mika,” Izet says with an unnatural vocal fry. “I’ve been looking forward to this. You look exactly like your pictures.”
Mika’s eyes widen as she realizes that her father has been planning this meeting for far longer than she imagined.
“Um, thank you,” she replies sheepishly.
“Her hips look the same as they were in the pictures, too. Good for carrying a child,” Amar says as his eyes scan Mika’s body at an agonizing, slow pace.
“Yeah, I think we could begin having babies immediately. She looks very fertile,” Izet adds, glancing at Mika’s breasts with no intention of subtlety.
The atmosphere in the room has shifted from uncomfortable to downright hostile as the other men in the room begin to pick apart Mika’s physical features.
“Yeah, she looks like she’d carry twins easily. Twins do run in the family.”
Even Amar’s assistants have started to whisper amongst themselves, chuckling under their breath as they leer at her.
Mika’s face starts to get red as she begins to feel trapped. She’s ready to resort to her old ways, trying to flip tables and light things on fire when she senses a threat. But here she’s helpless, and all I can do is watch.
“Shut the fuck up, stop talking about me like I’m not here,” she hisses.
Everybody laughs at her – everyone except for Izet. I can see in his eyes that he’s gauging how much correction she’ll require before she’s the perfect, meek little housewife that he wants her to be. He almost looks like he’s weighing the pros and cons of marrying her at all if she’s going to be such a bitch. Still, the promise of free pussy for the rest of his life is too good to pass up.
“Maybe you should tone it down a bit, sweetheart. This behavior is unattractive for a woman as beautiful as you,” Amar says, that same casual, unbothered smile refusing to leave his face.
I’m almost just as pissed at how normal everyone else is acting as if they’re not watching this poor girl lose her future. I guess none of them care – so far, Mika has only presented herself as being difficult and stubborn.
