Lies And Disobedience
On the way to the stadium, I played with the fringe on my tall brown boots.
Vladimir stole glances at me. “You’re staying with Kiki in the dormitory after the game? Not going anywhere else?”
“Mm-hm.”
The truth: Kiki and I were going to a house party to celebrate the end of football season with Ryan and his friends. If I’d told Vladimir the real plan, he would’ve never taken me to the game. It wasn’t like I was lying, more like protecting him from worrying about me. He was better off not knowing about my wild side.
***
After the hockey game, Ryan drove Kiki and me to Clifton. I had control of the tunes and played a country music playlist I put together for Ryan. He patted my leg and told me he liked my boots. I played air drums and sang the lyrics to his favorite song. From the backseat, Kiki reached up and pinched my arm to acknowledge the vibes reverberating between Ryan and me.
By the time we got to the house, the party was rocking. In a matter of seconds, Kiki and I had beers in hand and Ryan sipped on a Coke. We headed out to the patio and danced with our friends. I was a sweaty mess in no time. Ryan christened me with his Bearcat jersey—my “punishment” for losing our bet—and shadowed me all night.
I had the sense he wanted to be more than just good buddies. It felt awkward making the transition, but the alcohol helped loosen me up. Kiki spied me plopped on his lap on a dilapidated couch, snapped a pic, and gave me a thumbs up. I could get accustomed to having his big strong arms wrapped around me like that.
When the party started getting crowded and beer bottles were breaking, Ryan rounded up Kiki and loaded us into the truck just after one o’clock. He drove us back to Kiki’s dorm and walked us to the door. He gave me a hug goodbye and told me to call him when I woke up so he could take us to breakfast. He was so nice. I felt comfortable around him. And damn, his body rocked. Still in his arms, I stood on my toes and planted a smooch on his lips.
Gently, he cupped my chin and backed away. “Not tonight, Cookie.”
Ouch.
Once inside, Kiki set out her alcohol stash and helped me drown my sorrows with gin and juice. Her roommate stayed with her boyfriend on Friday nights, so I was free to crash. “Ryan is such an asshole,” Kiki said, flipping her long black hair over her shoulder. “I mean, why was he all over you at the party and then why did he, like, body slam you WWE style when you kissed him goodnight?”
“I know, right? What the hell is this?” I tugged on Ryan’s jersey.
“Bastard. You’re ten times hotter than that fucking Jessica whore he was with last month. She probably ruined him with her skank.”
I laughed so hard I snorted. We cranked up the jams and danced until Kiki’s RA shut down our party around four-ish. We turned off the lights and got into bed. Kiki had told me how her roommate and her boyfriend shamelessly “fucked like rabbits” in that bed—while Kiki was in the room. I kept all my clothes on and lay down on top of the covers. I closed my eyes but couldn’t fall asleep.
What was wrong with me? First I threw myself at Vladimir, and then I struck out with Ryan. Was I seriously that repulsive, not to mention desperate? At five-thirty, I gave up on sleep. Without waking Kiki, I headed out to get some coffee from the twenty-four hour place on Calhoun.
Just as I began my journey down the sidewalk, a car rolled up next to me. Instinctively, I fumbled with the wad o’ crap around my neck to locate my rape whistle.
The car window hummed down. “Get in,” Boris ordered.
I jumped at the sound of his voice and put my hand over my heart. “What the hell, man?”
He glared at me. “Get in.” His tone was louder and more threatening the second time.
I held my hands up in surrender, opened the door, and slid into the car.
“This is what you do on your free time, sneaky little weasel? Party with boys, drink yourself stupid, and hang around on dangerous street corners waiting to be attacked?”
“Easy, kick it down a notch.” I winced. “You followed me all night?”
Boris took a deep breath, probably to stop himself from slamming my face into the glove box. “You lied to boss. What do you have to say for yourself?”
How insulting. “I don’t have to answer to you. You can’t tell me what to do on my free time.” I put my hand on the door handle—
Boris grabbed my arm and glared at me like he wanted to chomp me in half. “Lies and disobedience will not be tolerated. On the clock or off. Now you must answer to the pakhan.”
I suspected the word pakhan translated to ‘pissed off boss’ in English.
This was not going to end well.