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Fear scratches through my chest like a hawk flying rampant inside me. This is what I wanted to avoid all these years when I disowned my brother. Now? I invited it right to my doorstep.
Fucking gangsters. It’s always goddamn something!
It takes me too long to unfreeze. Every second idle is one the Russian asshole has a chance to change his mind and kill me. I should flee, forever. Never talk to anyone I know again.
Getting back into the driver’s seat, my fingers shake as I wrangle the discarded keys off the floorboard. Pressing the break and hitting the ignition feels like I just grew wings, and a quick U-turn has me staring at my rearview mirror. I drive for an hour down backways and streets only I would know having lived here my whole life. I’m worried he put a tracker on my car, or something, so I park on Cross Bay Boulevard, run into a convenience store to get a notebook and pen, and order an Uber to Stacey’s house. On the way, I’m keeping the visual of that asshole fresh in my head. Some of the memory is blurry because of the blinding anxiety, but eventually my brain settles, and I can see his strong jaw, nose broken every which way, the shape of his eyes.
I drew portraits for years, so it’s a cakewalk for me to bring this bastard back to life. His hair thinning on the top but full in the back makes for an easy identifier so long as he doesn’t wear a hat. His cheeks were hollow, I think. And three silver teeth are impossible to hide.
I’m shivering as I rehash the fresh experience. I’m lucky – he could’ve full-on raped me and no one would’ve done a damn thing, apparently. My God.
Collateral for Patrovski?
I have to tell Castor… but I’m scared. He might have a crosshair trained on me right now. Maybe there’s a whole army of them watching me. What the hell do I know? Castor is some bigshot gold dealer, right? If millions are at stake, maybe it’s very important I die if he steps out of line.
My portrait is finished. I take a picture with my phone and crumple up the evidence. As of now? I have no idea what I’m going to do with it.
I purposely have the Uber driver pull to the end of the block before thanking him and hurrying out of the car. My equilibrium is off like I’ve been on a cruise for a week – all of my childhood fears rushing through my head.
I’m just a waitress and a painter. Leave me alone.
When I get to Stacey’s front door, I’m still holding my breath, counting the footsteps of her rushing down the stairs. She opens the door with a towel wrapped around her head, a skimpy top, and short-shorts on.
“Hey, baby girl! You’re here early. Whoa.” She backs up when I rush inside and slam the door behind me. Two locks isn’t enough, so I drag one of the bicycles in the foyer and wedge it under the doorknob. “Gia, what in the world?”
I’m shaking all over again, Stacey’s voice a muffled jumble of sound I can’t fully register. I’m underwater. I’m going to pop.
“Gia. Gia!” She grabs me by the shoulders while holding my eyes, breaking the spell. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. “Upstairs.”
“Okay, upstairs,” her voice is comforting, and so is her smoothly showered arm draped over my shoulder. “Breathe, hunnie.”
I listen to her, taking deep breaths to calm myself. When I get to her small messy apartment in a converted two-family house, I run to the first window I see and shut the shades.
“Okay, now you have to start talking.” Stacey locks her door.
“A man. Russian. He—um, assaulted me as I was getting into my car.” I run to the next window.
“Oh my God, Gia. Are you okay?”
“Yes. It was just a warning.”
“A warning? What the hell are you talking about? Did I miss the memo that you’re an international spy working at Bingo Bangos?”
A nervous chuckle comes out as I grab her by the hands and pull her to sit cross-legged on the floor with me. “I wish I was that brave.”
“Stop with the suspense, Gia! Speak. You’re scaring me.”
I exhale audibly. “Okay. Remember that night Castor DeMatteo visited Bangos?”
“Oh my, how could I forget?”
“Yeah, I—um, took a shift for him after you left.”
“What? I thought those mobsters brought their own staff.” Her mouth hangs open.
“They do, but you know, we have history. So he threw me a bone for some extra cash.”
