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I slump down and immediately pop the bottle open for a deep swig.
Vodka.Yet another lovely reminder of my father. Fuck me.
Bambi waits for me to get comfortable before she repeats the question. “So? What happened.”
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
I’m too drained to glare at her. “How would you know?”
“Luxurious lakeside cabin up in the mountains where there’s tons of privacy, all the amenities, and no rush to be anywhere or do anything. A soundproofed master bedroom, California king bed, and Clara inside it.” She lifts her glass to me. “You should not be down here. But you are. So… what happened?”
I sigh. It feels like my soul gives up on my body and simply exits through that breath. “I fucked up.”
“You’re gonna have to be more specific.”
“You do remember that I am your boss?” I ask her with a scowl. “I?—”
“Don’t even try to pull rank with me.” Bambi says it with a smile, but there’s a hint of venom in her eyes and her tone. “You’re also the same guy who carelessly risked my entire career by putting me into a position where I had to choose between maintaining my license with the State Bar of Nevada or maintaining my professional relationship with you. Obviously, I chose you. But if anyone finds out I didn’t report any of a billion things I’ve witnessed and overlooked in your employ, I’m done. I’m not just disbarred—I’m thrown into prison, do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars.”
I prop my arms on my knees and bury my face in my hands. “Fucking hell. I’m sorry, Bam.”
She gives me a tiny shrug. “I guess I can forgive you. There may be a surcharge, though.”
“I would expect no less.”
“Nor should you. So…” She takes a long sip of her drink and studies me. “Something happened. You might not want to talk about it, but you need to.”
I grab my own drink and slug a shot back. “She’s locked herself in the bathroom. Crying. Right in the middle of some of the best sex we’ve had in a while.” Another deep swig. “Shit. I don’t fucking know what happened.”
Bambi nods like she does know. “She was triggered.”
“She was what?”
“Triggered, dude. You know, like something was said or done that immediately body-slammed her brain into a point in her life that’s hella traumatizing.” She hides the next sentence behind a feigned sip. “Did you breathe? That’d be enough to do it.”
I shoot her a contemptuous glare. Mostly because she’s right, and I deserve the reminders of how right she is.
“My guess is, it was something your father said to her.” Bam stirs her drink with the paper umbrella and gazes out over the dark lake. “It was probably said a lot, too. I don’t know, honestly, but I’m guessing since you were… ah… doing the horizontal mambo, you’ve might’ve said something that reminded her of?—”
“Russian,” I groan. “I started speaking Russian to her. Terms of endearment, just simple stuff, but that’s when she lost it.”
Umnitsa.
“You sound just like him.”
I glare at the bottle of vodka now sitting abandoned on the ground by my feet. I want to chuck it into the lake. No—I want to chuck it at Oleg’s house and light a fucking match.
“I can’t…” I slump back in the chair with yet another groan. “Fuck!I can’t run from my own shadow! How am I supposed to make things right when I’m the literal embodiment of everything that’s gone wrong?”
I suck at being a hero. I’m not about to slide back into being a villain, but, for God’s sake, I need a break. I need someone or something to just throw me a bone already. Or a tip. A guidebook.
Anything.
“You start by not stopping.”
I squeeze my eyes closed. “I’m too tired for riddles, Bam.”
