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She’s not going to like my answer. I have to rely on the liquid courage in my fist for this one, gulping down the rest of my beer before daring to respond. She stares at me with eyes wide open the entire time.
Unrelenting.
I put the empty glass on the table, adjusting my posture until I feel like I’m back in my old Russian private school, risking a slap on my knuckles if my back wasn’t perfectly straight. My parents paid a lot to make sure I didn’t slouch, so now I do it every chance I get.
But not now. The grave nature of my confession makes me feel the need to sit so straight that my shoulder blades ache.
I open my mouth, close it, then open it again, rewriting the words in my head several times over before I actually say them.
“I shot a man,” I finally admit, watching the expression on Oakley’s face turn into befuddled disgust.
“You did what?!”
I hold my finger to my lips. “Quiet down. I don’t want the entire universe to know about it.”
She leans forward, lowering her voice. “What the actual fuck, Savva? Tell me you’re joking.”
I shake my head. “I was held at knifepoint by a couple of clowns on the road, so I shot one of them. He had it coming. It’s not like I killed an innocent person or anything. One could even call it self-defense.”
“Jesus, do the police know about this?”
I laugh, placing my hand on hers. “What do you think, darling?”
She pulls her hand back and frowns. “Are you crazy? You can’t just go around shooting people.”
“Maybe you missed the part about me being held at knifepoint,” I reply calmly.
She scoffs. “Yeah,knifepoint. Not gunpoint. Were they actually going to attack you, or was it just a robbery you decided to escalate because your ego was too big to let you be a victim.”
Her words cut deep because they’re true, but I reject them anyway. “They were trying to take thousands of dollars from me. That’s too much to let go.”
“Like you do to me every week?! I mean, for fuck’s sake, Savva, do you expect me to shoot you the next time you come in here demanding money from me? You see how crazy that sounds?”
I’m starting to get annoyed. I knew she wasn’t going to take it well, but this is getting out of control. She’s not my mother, and she certainly has no authority to tell me how to be a good person.
News flash – I’m evil. I thought we had already established that.
“Listen, this is serious shit, Oakley, and you’re part of it. You can either accept that right now, or maybe you should give up on this dream of running your father’s bar and go home. There are no other options. You can’t ignore what’s staring at you in the face. As for me, I did what I had to do, and I don’t care for your judgments on the matter. I’m only telling you so that you know why the Triple Six Angels are looking for me.”
She looks away from me, her eyes becoming unfocused as she looks toward the other tables. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“I know it’s a lot to take in, but there’s a way out for you if you want it.”
“No, I really am going to be sick,” she says, cupping her hand over her mouth and running from the table.
Heads turn as she leaves, and I wish I could disappear into my seat. It was never my intention to bring her into this mess, but now that she is, it’s my responsibility to protect her. I don’t care what Pasha, Greg, or anyone else says about the reasons why. I’m a man of honor, and guarding Oakley is what I’m compelled to do.
Though it doesn’t seem like I’m doing an especially good job of that right now. She’s out of my sight already, puking her guts up in the bathroom while I sit lamely at an empty table, trying to decide whether I should check on her or give her privacy until she returns.
Thankfully, I don’t have to dwell on the decision for long, because Oakley emerges a moment later, walking briskly back to our table.
“Sorry, I’m usually not this dramatic,” she says with a nervous laugh, sitting down across from me and offering up a smile. “As you were saying?”
“We can take a break from this if you need to. Maybe you want some water?”
“No, no, I’m fine,” she insists. “I think I’ve just been overdoing it this week, and my body has finally come to collect.”
“You and me both,” I reply, thinking back to the sleepless nights and obsessive repetitions of the voicemail I made her send me. What would she think if she knew how many times I’ve listened to her climax?
