Weasel
After the vodka stopped talking the next day—and my hormones stopped raging—I had to figure out how to smooth over the fact I had straddled Vladimir and enthusiastically grinded my body all over him. Not to mention, I shoved my hand down his pants and touched it.
God, please tell me I didn’t suggest we go to his office instead of the bedroom. Wasn’t I the one who came up with the Purity Plan?
When I got into the car with Boris, he glared at me. “Everything okay at home?”
I nodded.
“Your papa is a brave man.”
I nodded again.
“I see your friend came back from Florida today. You’re spending the night with her?”
“Yep.”
He relaxed his shoulders. “We’re not going back to the house.”
“Why? Where are you taking me?”
“It’s a surprise. Text your friend and tell her you’re not coming.”
“Is this a sex thing?” I blurted out.
“What do you think, party girl?”
“No. Stop the car. Let me out, or I’ll jump.”
Boris clamped onto my arm and jammed his thumb into my bicep to get me under control. “You want to go to war with me again?”
“Please stop. No more bruises,” I whimpered.
Surprised by the desperation in my voice, he loosened his grip. “Enough with your bullshit. Take a sip of vodka and turn on the radio. You’ll be right back where you left off.”
I took a deep breath to calm myself down. “Last night was a mistake.”
“No more mulligans.”
“You poured me, like, four shots.”
“No one made you drink.”
I dropped my head in my hands and let the consequence of my actions settle in. “Are you going to kill me?”
Boris glared at me like he was offended by the notion. “Why would I do that?”
I ticked off my fingers as I listed my offenses. “Because you’re sick of dealing with me. I can’t do anything right. I make you mad every single day. I don’t listen. I tease boys. My singing in the car is insanely annoying. I can’t handle my alcohol. I get green tennis ball fuzz all over your seats. I come crawling to you every time I’m in trouble—which is a lot. Haven’t I burned through my nine lives yet?”
He acted stunned. “You think I—” He shook his head and didn’t finish.
“I know you’ve done it before. When you rolled up your sleeves, I saw your snaky chain tattoo. Each link represents someone you…whacked.”
“You found this out on the Internet?”
“You ink it, you own it,” I said.
Instead of being pissed, he chuckled. “You don’t know anything, stupid girl.”
I guess humping the boss was good for our relationship. Ugh. What a sick thought. “Please tell me where you’re taking me.”
“It’s nice. You’ll have good time.”
If Vladimir told him not to tell, that was the end of it.
Boris stopped at the gas station to fill up. Pushing my luck, I asked if I could go inside to grab some snacks for the road. He flipped me a hundred dollar bill and told me to get him a Coke. Subconsciously, I must have asked myself W.W.W.D.? What Would a Weasel Do?
I snagged some Corn Nuts, a sleeve of peanuts, an orange juice, a Coke, and a pack of condoms. At the checkout counter, the grandma-aged clerk raised her eyebrows when she scanned the dirty stuff. Her gaze drifted outside, and she sized up Boris pumping gas.
Her face blanched as she counted back change from a hundred. I wanted to say something snarky like, “Not unless he put a gun to my head,” but I kept my mouth shut, slid the condoms into my back pocket, and then marched back to the car.
When we got on the road, I sipped the OJ and ate my peanuts. Boris glanced in the rearview mirror and then veered off to the median. “What did you do?”
“Nothing.” I peeked behind and saw the blue lights of a police car flashing behind us. “I swear I have no idea.” I recognized the officer as she walked toward the Cadillac. “Oh shit, it’s Officer Montgomery.”
Boris slid on a pair of gloves and gave me the low-down on our agenda so we had our stories straight. “If I find out you pulled something—”
Officer Montgomery leaned in the car and smirked when she recognized me.
“Hello again, officer. What’s the problem?” I asked.
“May I see your license, sir?” Boris handed it to her.
She shook her head. “I would say I’m surprised to see you, but, sadly, I’m not. Out of the car, Miss Cook. You and I need to talk.” The officer walked me back to her cruiser and told me to get in the front seat. As she ran Boris’s license—which I assumed would show a spotless record—she took off her sunglasses. “Know why I pulled the car over?”
I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeggings. “No idea, ma’am.”
“Where are you going?”
I gave her a puzzled look. “He’s taking me to my cousin’s house. He bought us concert tickets for Christmas. Why?”
The officer scanned her screen. “Mr. Chuchin is your grandfather, right?”
I was sure Gramps was an upstanding citizen. “Yeah, by marriage. He’s my stepmom’s dad.”
“A concerned citizen called in worried about an older gentleman and a pretty young girl buying condoms at the gas station.”
I put my hands over my face and slid down in the seat. “Oh, my God. That old lady narked me out? Please don’t say anything to him. I’m begging you. He’ll die of embarrassment.”
She held her hand up to stop my rambling. “If there is anything you want to tell me, now is the time. I can help you. You’re safe with me. Is this man hurting you in any way?”
I shook my head. “I took to heart what you said the other day about alcohol and boys. I was trying to be prepared—just in case.”
“Let me go talk to your grandfather. You’ll need to get into the back until I can corroborate your story.”
I got out of the car and let her shut me into the back of the patrol car. Will Boris kill her if he thinks she’s busted us?
She leaned over and questioned the Russian mobster pretending to be my grandfather. I prayed for her. Boris reached into his coat pocket and pulled something out. The officer held out her hand and inspected what appeared to be a pair of concert tickets.
She smiled and tapped the tickets in her hand.
I exhaled. The officer came back to the car and released me from the backseat. “You are lucky to have such a sweet grandpa. Have a nice time.”
“Did you say anything to him about the you know whats?”
“No, I didn’t. You’re an adult. No crime has been committed.” She patted me on the back. “Make good choices, Carter, and stay out of trouble for a couple days.”
“Thanks.” I slunk back to the car, mentally preparing for the bullshit storm. We got back on the road. Boris didn’t talk. I didn’t either. The silence was terrifying.
Is he mad? Happy he didn’t have to shoot the cop? Is he mad?
I turned on my side and closed my eyes. He plucked the condom pack out of my back pocket, shoved me down in the seat, and bore down on my chest. The car swerved over the double yellow line, then back in the right lane. “You know what I would’ve done if she suspected anything?”
“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
He was pushing down on me so hard I thought I would snap. I gasped for air, and he let me go. I turned over and curled into a ball.
He rolled down the window and tossed the contraband in the median. “Get your rest, weasel. You’ll be up late tonight.”
Asking for another punishment in my own special way, I asked, “Will you warn me before you pull the trigger? I don’t want it to be a surprise.”
I thought he was ignoring me, but before I fell asleep he answered, “Da.”