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“Gosh, I’m so sorry.” The waiter pushed my chair back and set his tray down, dropping to his knees with a napkin in hand to dab at my scorched feet. Mom set in giving the boy a lecture, but I stepped away.
“It’s okay. Really, I’m fine.” I didn’t want him touching me but I didn’t want to seem rude or ungrateful.
He looked up at me with sorrow written on his face as I backed away, eyes already turned toward the bathroom. “I’m so sorry, miss.”
I hobbled away, feeling the heat in the burn seep deeper into my arm and my foot. The minute I was in the bathroom, I plunged my arm beneath the cooling flow of water, and noticed someone had followed me in. I tried not to look, after all it was rude to make eye contact in a private place like that. But the woman did not seem to care about propriety. She stared me down, hand covering her mouth.
I turned the water off, reaching for a paper towel, and asked, “Can I help you?”
The woman shook her head. I started to feel nervous, as if this entire thing were a set up. If this lady thought she was going to mug me in the toilets, she was wrong. I had left everything at my seat.
“Listen, I have nothing of value. Even my earrings are fake—paste. Not diamond.”
She unraveled the silk scarf wrapped around her head, then removed her gaudy sunglasses. I felt my heart rate increase as it began to dawn on me that I knew her. And when she tussled her platinum hair, then blinked out some fake contact lenses, I recognized her.
“Lia?” I looked hard at her face as tears streaked across her cheeks. She nodded then came at me with arms wide. “But how? You’re dead.” I thought I’d have a heart attack right there, like I was seeing a ghost.
“Shhh…” She held me for a second, then pulled away and held her finger to her lips. “Come with me.”
Lia took me by the hand and peeked out the door. She led me out of the bathroom and through the kitchen to a small room in the back of the restaurant. When she opened the door, I got a glimpse of someone else I recognized, but wasn’t fully aware of what was going on. It was the man from the restaurant, the night of the drive-by shooting. It happened in the fall, before my 21st birthday. Why was he here?
I looked up at Lia with confusion. “But?”
“Welcome, Anya.” The man gestured at a table set up with three chairs. “Please sit.”
Lia nodded, smiling brightly.
“I don’t understand.” I moved forward slowly, unsure of what to make of all of this. The attractive man who had helped me calm down during the aftermath of that shooting, my best friend long since dead, and my racing heart.
“Isabella was kind enough to help me learn your name so we could meet again.” The man pulled out a chair that I dropped into and still the shock had not worn off.
“Don’t worry, Yaya.” Lia used my childhood nickname. “I will explain everything.” Lia sat next to me patting my arm.
If she could explain how she came back from the dead, I’d never need another question answered for the rest of my life. But first I needed water…
4
LEO
Two weeks…
That’s how long it had been since Isabella introduced me to Anya. How long I’d had to work to get her to agree to meet me again. It seemed she was either a very hesitant person, or her personal life was quite busy to the point where she had very little time. I was a patient man, however, biding my time and waiting.
The nightclub was brimming with street life, half-dressed women and men with massive egos and sexual tension. I ignored them all, sitting in the corner booth with the curtains mostly drawn. I watched her approaching, weaving in and out of the mass of gyrating bodies as she approached. She wore jeans, covered by brown leather boots that rose to the thigh, and a long sweater that draped down like a dress in back, hugging her breasts in the front. Her midriff was bare, tempting me to undress her with my mind.
As she approached, I stood, offering a customary kiss to each cheek as a greeting. Her dark hair fell in waves around her face, framing in her mauve lipstick and high cheekbones. If ever there were a Russian beauty who could charm this Italian soldier, it was Anya.
“So good of you to join me.” I gestured that she should sit, and rather than placing myself on the opposite side of the booth, I sat directly next to her. The surprise on her face was evident, but it didn’t deter me. I wanted to be as close to this woman as possible.
“Thank you for the invitation, Leo.”
I rested my arm along the back of the booth, angling toward her. Her scent was intoxicating, strawberries and honey. She angled toward me, her knee pushing against mine. She looked uncomfortable, eyebrows lightly furrowed, hands clasped in her lap. At our last meeting she’d asked so many questions of myself and Isabella, and when I’d left them both to catch up, I wasn’t sure what Isabella had told her, but she was here now. And that was what mattered.
Our entire evening was spent behind the closed curtain, with the loud music somewhat muffled by it. The waiter served us drinks, only water for Anya, but a hefty dose of wine for me. She told me of her father’s sickness, and her apparent inheritance of his position of Pakhan. She knew nothing of who I was or what this sensitive information might mean in the wrong hands, and I, being the gentleman I was, promised to keep her confidence.
“Why are you taking an interest in me, Leo?” Anya, now soothed by the conversation of the evening and wooed by my compassionate shoulder, moved closer to me. She turned completely, drawing her knee across the bench seat until she sat facing me directly. She leaned her head against my hand, still stretched along the back of the booth.
“Other men would have taken what you shared and used it against you, Anya. Lesser men. They would have sought blood, perhaps held you for ransom, even used you as a pawn to extort money from your father.” I angled toward her more, leaning forward. “I am not those men.”
