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Adrian seems like the type of snob who doesn’t drink beer, so that makes sense. I try again. “Whiskey?”
“No.”
“Wine?”
“No.”
“Do you have any alcoholic beverages here?”
“No.”
“How is that possible? Doesn’t Adrian drink?”
“Not in the house, Mrs. Volkov.”
I want to ask her why the hell he doesn’t, but her closed off tone and face deter me from it. I doubt she’d answer if I asked, anyway.
The lack of alcohol is hurting my head. It’s even worse than a few seconds ago. Every addict like me holds on to the promise of the next hit, a sip, something to alleviate the ache. Contrary to common belief, we do endure, but only because our brains are attuned to the idea of instant gratification after a certain wait time. Now that my brain has figured out there will be no alcohol, it’s actively trying to split my head open, and so I give in to its demands.
“I’ll go to the grocery store to buy some beer. Can I tell them to put it on Adrian’s tab?” I ask Ogla ever so casually, attempting to get past her.
She raises an arm, blocking my exit. “Mr. Volkov gave clear instructions that you’re not to leave the property.”
The asshole did mention that.
“It won’t take long,” I bargain.
“No.”
“You’re not the boss of me, Ogla. I can push you away and go.”
“I wouldn’t recommend that, Mrs. Volkov. You’ll be stopped by the guards outside with less gentle methods.”
He has more guards outside? I thought Bulky Blond and Crooked Nose were the only ones, and I’d assumed they followed him wherever he went.
“So you go,” I say hopefully.
She shakes her head once.
“One of the guards can go, then?”
“No alcohol is allowed in the house. You’ll have to get used to it.”
I can’t just get used to it. I’ve been drunk for most of my life. Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but I’ve always been kind of drunk and that’s how I’ve managed to stay out of my head. That’s how I’ve numbed my feelings.
If I’m sober, all my emotions will be unfiltered and raw, like everything I experienced this morning. Come to think of it, I probably had the nightmare because I didn’t sleep drunk. I don’t want to find out what will happen if I stay like this.
I’m not ready to experience it.
I wish I could get in touch with Larry so he could smuggle me some beer. But that would be as hard as searching for a specific ant in an ant farm. Larry has always been the one to do the finding, not the other way around. Besides, I have no clue where this mansion is located and how far it is from the city.
And if I attempt to escape, Adrian will turn me in without a second thought.
Ogla is still watching me as if expecting me to bargain again, but I already know she’s a lost cause. I have no doubt that she’ll report everything I say or do to Adrian, so I have to be smart about dealing with her.
I stare back at her, meeting her quiet maliciousness with contemplation. Adrian said that I can ask her about anything ‘I don’t remember.’ Hmph. Manipulative bastard.
“Hey, Ogla.”
