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Iakov grunts. In the background, I hear Zaro exclaim, “Come one step closer and I’ll call the police!”
“She won’t call the police,” I say into the phone. “They’ll call our parents the moment they find out who she is. Bring her home, Kav.”
“Tak tócno,” he says, hangs up.
Inevermakeitto the library and wait for Iakov’s return in the sixth form boys’ common room. It’s mostly deserted, everyone either out partying, getting laid, or in their bedrooms.
I put the television on to distract me while I wait for Iakov, but the constant reports of kidnappings and murders on the news do nothing but escalate my already soaring heart rate.
Iakov returns an hour later, the plod of his heavy footsteps preceding him. He emerges into the lights of the common room, and I stifle a curse.
He looks rough as hell. His black bomber jacket and jeans are drenched with rain, there’s a purple bruise nestled in his right eye-socket where he’s soon going to have a new black eye, and a crimson hand mark imprinted on his cheek, so bright and raised it looks like it’s just been tattooed on with red ink.
“What the fuck,” I breathe out.
He shrugs and peels off his jacket, tossing it over the back of a leather armchair. Underneath it, he’s wearing a plain black T-shirt which is also wet and sticks to his skin, but he ignores this. Grabbing a bottle of beer out of a half-torn carton on a side table, he sinks into one of the big chesterfields, propping his muddy combat boots on the table.
“Did you get her home?” I ask, sitting across from him.
He nods. “Yea. Dropped her off at her dorm. Made sure she didn’t sneak back out.”
“What happened to your face?”
He takes a sip of his beer. “The crypto-bro took a crack at me. Missed my jaw but got my eye. Not a bad punch for such a soft cunt.”
“Hehityou?” I say, covering my mouth. “That was brave of him. What did you do?”
“Just knocked him about a bit. Maybe cracked his skull with mine—not sure. He went down like a sack of bricks. I wanted to throw him in the Thames, but your Zaro begged me to spare him. Got shit taste in men, your sister has.”
“I know.” I sigh. “But she also probably didn’t want you to go to jail either.”
“Nah, she did.” Iakov takes another sip, rolling his head back against the headrest of the chesterfield. “Called the cops on me.”
“She fuckingwhat?”
Iakov lets out a rough laugh. “Called them with my own phone.” He sounds genuinely amused. “She’s a real fucking handful, you know.”
“Jesus, Kav.” Unlike Iakov, I’m far from amused. If my parents find out what she’s been up to, she’s going to end up in an actual convent this time. “What did they say?”
Iakov waves a hand, and I notice his knuckles are caked with thick blood clots. “Nothing, man. As soon as they started asking her questions, she lost her cool. Said it was a prank and hung up. She apologised to them—good manners on her when she wants.”
“Did she let you bring her home, then?” I ask.
Iakov laughs again. “Did she fuck. Slapped the living shit out of me.” He points at his cheek—unnecessarily so since the handshape glows like a beacon on his face. “Had to throw her on my shoulder like a sack of potatoes and bundle her into the limo.” He scrunches his face in a wince that looks painful just looking at it. “Bit grim. Made me feel like your fuckingshestyorka.”
I’m not sure what he’s talking about, but his bruises and voice tell me everything I need to know. “I’m so sorry, Kav. You don’t deserve this.”
“Nah, it’s alright.” Iakov gives a dark chuckle, wholly devoid of amusement this time. “I do.”
I have no idea what to say to that, but knowing Iakov, he doesn’t need me to say anything. Grabbing a beer from the pack, I crack it open with a sigh and clink my bottle against his.
“Thanks, Kav.”
His only response is a half-grin through his mask of bruises.
Chapter 27
Sibling Negotiation
