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“It's just so strange. Vanya doesn't have any enemies. Everybody adores her.”
Inessa shrugs. “Don't be foolish. Weallhave enemies. It's just a matter of knowing where to look. Rest assured, the administration is looking into this. They're taking it very seriously.”
When we step into the apartment, the lights are off. Unusual, until I remember who’s not around anymore. Dad would normally be on the couch watching TV by now or flitting around the kitchen to help with dinner. I've had plans for a while now to move into my own place, but rent isn't cheap on a ballerina's salary, and more often than not, Inessa and I carpool to and from work together so it just makes sense to continue to live with my parents.
I hear a strange shuffling sound coming from my room. Something—someone—is rummaging through my stuff. Curious and a bit alarmed, I tiptoe down the hall cautiously, reaching around the edge of my door frame to flick on the light.
“Dad?” I call out.
He whips around, shoving his hands into his pants pockets. He smiles sheepishly, but it doesn't reach his eyes. He’s sweaty for some reason, his cheeks flushed and his eyes watery. “Nikita!” he exclaims with an uneasy chuckle. “Welcome home. How was everything today?”
I stare at him, trying to pick through my questions. Where do I even begin? I want to tell him I'm going to be a soloist. I want to tell him about the pins in Vanya's shoes. I want to ask him what the hell he’s doing rummaging through my things, but I can't find the words to form proper sentences.
“Dad, what are you doing here?”
He glances over my shoulder with an anxious swallow. “Is your mother here?”
“In the kitchen. Dad, you’re not supposed to be here. I thought Mother took your key away.”
“I always keep spares,” he shoots back with a dry smirk.
“What are you doing here?” I ask again, my voice lower this time. The last thing I want is Mother overhearing us, especially after I had to hail a cab and pick my own father off the side of the road after he called me. I was still looking for him at the time, nearing the edge of madness and about to file a police report. He thinks I’m not aware of his troubles, but I know. I've been pawning stuff just to get money together to save his ass.
He gets up close, shifty and breathless. “I'm sorry, Nikita,” he says, barely a whisper. “I'd, uh… I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell your mother.”
Concern lances through me. “You're really starting to freak me out. What's going on?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “I… forgot to pay a bill. The rent.”
My face falls. “Oh, that's okay. It happens—” Of course, I’m faking it. He wouldn’t tell me what happened when I picked him up in the cab. The man’s ego is too big, too fragile, and I still don’t know how to handle him, sometimes. I keep telling him to get his head screwed back on so he and Mother can make peace, so he can move back here, but I feel as though I’ve been screaming at the walls lately.
“Things at the dealership… I wasn't able to make very much in commission this month, so I'm a bit behind. ”
It’s not exactly a lie. What he’s earning from the dealership isn’t enough to cover his Bratva debt. I keep looking over my shoulder, my ears twitching as I listen to Mother’s activities in the kitchen. She can’t find him here, like this. Inessa is just as strict at home as she is at the ballet. My whole life has been spent walking on eggshells, afraid to be on the tail end of her disapproval. She's notallbad—but she's definitely more prickly than soft.
“How much money do you need?” I ask gently, without a hint of judgment. “I have money saved, you know that. I can just lend it to you and—”
“No, no,” he says hurriedly. “That money is for your future.”
“But Dad—”
“I'll figure something out.” The way he forces his smile even wider makes my heart twist. Maybe I should just confront him and tell him I know everything. I hate seeing the two of us lie to each other like this.
“Can't we just talk to the landlord? I'm sure he'd be willing to work things out with us. We’ve always been good tenants.”
Dad nods, casting his gaze to the floor. “You're right. You're absolutely right. I'm sorry I got so flustered. I should go.”
“Don’t let her see or hear you,” I tell him.
He nods once and shuffles off. I don’t hear the front door as he leaves the apartment, which means Inessa didn’t hear it, either. Good. I inspect the wooden clothing drawer which is stuffed full of athletic wear—shirts, sweaters, tights, an endless supply of leg warmers. At first glance, I find nothing amiss. I don’t know what he was looking for, but I don’t think he found it. Hell, I don’t know what’s going through his head these days or why he does certain things anymore. He is desperate. And whether he likes it or not, I am going to help him. The sooner he’s safe and back with us, the better. I remember overhearing Mother when they were arguing, when she flat out told him she knew he was indebted to the Bratva on account of his gambling. I haven’t been able to look at him the same since, but he is still my father, and I still owe much of who I am today to this man.
“Nikita!” Inessa snaps from down the hall. “Come eat and then go to bed! We have an early morning tomorrow.”
I take a deep breath and try to collect my thoughts. This has been a whirlwind of a day. I sincerely hope I'm not swept off my feet.
Chapter 4
Leo
