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“Wouldn’t he have reached out?” she asks, sounding smug now that she thinks she can twist this in her favor again. “If he really cared about you, Oakley, he would’ve let you know.”
“What if he couldn’t?” I ask, losing a bit of my steam but trying to retain my edge. “What if you never let him?”
“And how would I do that?” she asks.
“I don’t know. You tell me,” I reply.
She laughs. “Now you’re being ridiculous. Why don’t you come home and we can talk about this like adults. There’s no use running around Nevada searching for answers. The only thing you’re going to find there is a whole lot of dust and sin.”
It’s not the words that bug me, it’s her tone. I know she’s lying because she gives it away by how she says things. When she’s telling the truth, she’s not this haughty.
“You know what, mom? I think I’m done with this conversation. If you want to hear from me again, like ever, you’re going to tell me the truth. Until then, bye.” I hang up the phone and put it in the desk drawer, standing up and walking out of the room as it starts to buzz again.
Nope, I’m not answering her this time. She’ll have to come clean before I waste another second talking to her on the phone.
I walk out to the front, slipping behind the bar and shaking up a cocktail for myself. As I pour the frothy strawberry booze into a tall glass, Kimberly, one of the people I hired for the bar, comes up beside me. “Hey, is everything alright?”
I look up at her, trying to play off the traumatic evening I’ve had as just another wild night in the string of many. After all, I’m a Vegas woman now. “Oh, I’m totally fine. I just need a damn drink.”
I laugh, and she offers a sympathetic smile. “Just let me know if you need anything. I’ve delt with men likehimbefore. You just have to put your foot down enough times, and they let up.”
I flash a disingenuous smile. “Oh, I can handle Savva. Don’t worry. It’s my mother that bothers me the most.”
She laughs, patting me on the arm. “Ain’t that the truth.”
I nod, taking a sip of my drink and grimacing at how strong I made it. I don’t think I could handle more than one of these before I’d be dancing on the pool tables, doing a show to make up for the money Savva took.
The idea is tempting, but I pace myself, allowing the liquor to warm my veins slowly, loosing me up until I’m laughing and joking with the others into the small hours of the morning. I could get used to this, but I probably shouldn’t.
13
Oakley
The nights move quickly as I string them together with drinks, hangovers, and late lunches with Kimberly. It’s nice to have a woman to talk to who isn’t my mother, but I doubt she comprehends the full extent of my plight. I don’t think anyone really understands except for me and the bottle I’ve been drinking from to reduce my anxiety about Savva.
If it wasn’t for him, I probably wouldn’t be such a hopeless wreck. Sure, the money is good, and the arrangement is as fair as it gets with the Bratva, but having to see Savva every week is going to drive me insane.
Not only can he not keep his hands off me, but I don’twanthim to keep his hands off me. I crave his touch, and that’s eventually going to lead me to disaster.
And despite this knowledge, I find myself searching the figures who walk in every night for a chance to spot him. I know he’s only coming in on Fridays, but the idea that he’s out there existing in the world, and hecouldcome in any time he wanted is unnerving. I’m afraid just as much as I am hopeful.
Tonight, the bar is busy, but not so busy that I’m not still watching the door. Savva is supposed to come tonight, but it’s already an hour past when he usually arrives, and my stomach is starting to twist up in worry.
Why am I worried about him? He’s a criminal and a horrible person, and I should be happy if he ended up behind bars.
But what if he was in a coffin instead? Would I still feel that he deserved it?
Of course, not. I wouldn’t wish that on Savva, even if he seems capable of doing it to someone else. I wouldn’t sink to that level.
That’s what I tell myself to justify my worry as the minutes slide past me, and we creep deeper into the night. Kimberly is taking orders with the same sharp prose as usual, totally unphased by the absence of Savva.
He means nothing to her, but everything to me.
An hour and a half passes, and my worry fades into annoyance. I’m supposed to pay him tonight, and he hasn’t even shown up. If he doesn’t come through that door, I might be the one charginghiminterest.
But just as I smirk at the thought of shaving a few dollars of the money I’m going to give Savva, he steps through the door with another man behind him, locking eyes with me and walking up to the bar as though he’s exactly on time.
“Two drinks for Maxim and me,” he says, flicking his fingers toward the other man as he leans on the bar.
