AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Maybe aside from sex with Pasha, but that’s not happening anymore. I don’t care about his weird plans to put a baby in me. I never asked him to do that, and I have every right to veto that decision.
I place my hand on my belly, praying there’s not a child growing inside me already as I park the car beside the old brick building. I hear music coming from inside the brittle brick walls, and I feel at home.
But there’s something in me telling me not to go in there. I’m reluctant to get out of the car. Not only am I a target for Pasha’s brother, but seeking out drugs and doing them makes me a horrible person if I’m already pregnant.
But it hasn’t been that long. I can’t already be pregnant…
And what if I am?
I hate that this is even a decision I have to make. I shouldn’t be trying to find coke at six in the morning, anyway. No normal person would be sitting out here in a supercar with all the money in the world, trying to find some sleazy drug dealer to get her high.
I need help. I realize that this could be the last time I feel that warm buzz before I check myself into rehab. One more time. One last high.
I hit my head against the steering wheel, trying desperately to talk myself out of this.
“Okay, so Pasha made you angry, but that doesn’t mean you have to throw away all the progress you made over some guy. You should stay sober just to prove to him that you don’t need his help.”
I look at myself in the rearview mirror, at the puffiness around my eyes from crying, and the redness from lack of sleep. I look like a fucking addict, and I hate myself. I used to be so pretty.
“Fuck!” I slam my fist into the steering wheel, causing the horn to blare.
I look around to make sure I’m not drawing attention to myself, but nobody is outside. It’s a ghost town on the south side, shabby and depressing. It’s nothing like what Pasha has up north.
I sit in the car for several minutes, trying to make my mind up. I could drive away right now, but where would I even go? I have nowhere to live.
Finally, the sick feeling in my stomach and the shaking of my hands get the better of me. I need a fix. It can be small, but I need something to take the edge off before I check myself into rehab.
I take a deep breath as I step out of the car and walk up to the building. My feet hit the ground with so little confidence that I almost don’t make it to the door, but once I do, I’m ushered inside by a man with a face full of tattoos.
Great choice. I’m probably going to die here, and I can blame it all on Pasha.
The inside of the club smells like cigarettes, weed, and cheap beer, but I ignore the bartender and head straight upstairs. I never really liked alcohol that much. Getting high has always felt so much better, and that’s what I’m here to do.
I comb my tangly hair back with my fingertips as I reach the top floor, entering into an open area with loud electronic music playing. There’s a couple having sex on a couch in the far corner of the room, and only a few people left dancing on the floor.
I’m grossed out and I consider leaving until I spot a man staring at me from across the room. He’s not dancing, nor is he fucking anyone.
He’s just standing there, observing the room with a cigar held loosely between his knuckles.
Something about him reminds me of Pasha, but this can’t be his brother. He’s not tall enough, and he’s quite a bit younger with an oversized suit hanging off his skinny shoulders, like a wannabe Bratva boss. He reminds me of those people who pretend to be police officers, pulling people over in their civilian cars until a real officer comes along and arrests them.
But this guy is clearly associated with Anatoly’s group, and he probably knows where I can find coke. I just need a little, and then I’m out of here. I’m not even going to stay long enough to do any. I’ll take it to my car and decide if I’m really going to take that risk in a more private setting.
The suited man floats across the dance floor toward me, his eyes never leaving mine. He’s a bit like a ghoul, and I don’t know whether I should run or pretend like I’m not afraid.
I do neither. Fight or flight has always translated tofreezefor me. I just stand there like some kind of idiot while he looms over me, a grin spreading over his gaunt face. “You’re new here,” he says with a slight Russian accent.
Jackpot. I knew this guy was with Anatoly’s group. Pasha warned me about him, but that’s only because he was jealous. He wanted me all to himself, but he doesn’t own me.
I’m nobody’s bitch.
“I’ve been around,” I tell the man, although that’s far from the truth. I don’t go this deep south. Nobody with any common sense does.
He rubs his cleft chin, his eyes looking me over like he’s sizing me up. I’ve seen this look from Pasha before, but it was different. It wasn’t quite so aggressive, and it didn’t hint at eventual violence.
My skin is crawling, but I stand my ground. It’s not like I’m alone with him. There are other people at this club who would probably intervene if he jumped on me.
“So, what brings you to a place like this? Certainly not dancing.”
