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Not happening. I don’t believe in love.
I unscrew the cap and pour out a glass. I lift it up and sniff it, swirling the contents. Then I hurl the glass against the far wall, the sound of it shattering loud in the silence of the kitchen.
I walk back out and go to my study. I have plans to make and I need to be sober to make them. I can drink when this is done but not yet. I need to work out how long it will take Don Belucci to lower his guard. First thing to do, is go over the next couple ofsales of merchandise, make sure my crews are settling into the cartel territory without too much trouble.
I keep myself occupied for a couple of hours with figuring things out, making calls. When I’m done it’s late and I think about getting a shower.
I head up to my room and my blankets are still a mess from where she was sprawled across them. I pick up the pillow. It has her scent on it from when she crammed it between her legs. The smell gets me hard in an instant.
I’ll never fuck her again. Never feel those soft lips of hers against my own. The thought hurts but the pain will fade. Like the scars on my back, soon it will be background noise, like the birds singing outside in the mornings.
Life is pain. I’m used to it. She’s not. It’s better this way. She’s better out of it. Remain here and she’ll end up hurt by me. I have no doubts about that at all.
I undress and climb into the shower, jerking off with my eyes closed, the water running down over my chest. I think of her body, the sounds she makes when she comes. It doesn’t take long to come. When I do, I imagine her calling my name, clawing at my back, pulling me deep inside her, moaning in my ear.
I turn the water cold, dousing thoughts of her in freezing temperatures. By the time I dry myself, I’m not thinking about her at all. Not one bit.
13
Mila
The apartment has a musty smell. I open the windows to air it out before sorting through the pile of mail that’s arrived since I was last here.
How long has it been? Long enough for everything in the refrigerator to be long dead. The smell in there is worse than the air. Mold and rotting.
I dump everything in there into the trash and clean it out properly. I can treat this as a fresh start. Like I’ve just moved in. I’ll dust and vacuum later. For now I need to work out how I’m going to pay the bills.
I need a job that pays well enough to afford to move. I have no savings. How am I supposed to get out of here and support my child with no money?
I’ll have to keep the pregnancy secret for now. No one will hire me knowing I’ll need leave to give birth soon enough.
Eight months until the baby’s born. A lot can happen in that time. Maybe Alexsei will get in touch, realize his mistake. Tell mehe’s sorry and that he can change. He will change.
Yeah, right.
He’s probably got a load of hookers at his house already, laughing at the memory of dear, sweet, innocent me.
He was my first. My only. And now it’s over.
When the cleaning’s done, I check my laptop. It’s taken thirty minutes to boot up and connect to the Internet but it’s managed it. I check out some vacancies. All of them need experience I haven’t got.
I won’t take Alexsei’s money. I don’t want anything from him. I don’t want anything to do with him. If he can’t accept that he needs to change, then that’s on him. He doesn’t get to have a hold over me, not anymore.
I’ll get by on my own but not here. I walk into the bedroom and remember the night they came and snatched me. My father’s men, three of them. All now dead in the attack on Alexsei’s place.
Terry’s cologne is still on the dressing table. I pick it up and sniff it, dread rising in me. So different from the scent of Alexsei and what that does to me.
I dump the bottle in the trash, adding his toothbrush and the hoodie of his that somehow ended up in my drawer. I go back to the kitchen and make myself a coffee.
I tell myself it’s all back to normal but I’m afraid. I don’t want to be here. I don’t like the thought of staying here anymore. The place has too many bad memories.
I rummage through everywhere I can think of, piling up every dollar bill and bit of loose change that I can find. It adds up toseventy-four dollars and fifty-two cents. Enough for a bus ride but not too far. Maybe I can hitch somewhere, anywhere but here.
I could go to some small town faraway, start again, change my name. Put all this behind me.
I will always miss Alexsei but it won’t be the real him I’ll be missing. It’ll be the him I wish he would become. The one who accepts emotions are real, that love is real, that what he felt for me was real.
I know he loves me. I know that deep inside himself he’s scared of love. He blames himself for his family’s death, believes what his father told him. That he should trust no one. Ever.
