Natural Disaster
When we rolled up the driveway, Igor cocked his head and blinked at me from his perch in the tree. Like me, the peacock thought it best to keep his mouth shut and quit strutting around like he owned the place.
While we were away, the house had been transformed into a winter wonderland. The aroma of warm spiced cider filled the air, zakuski lined the bar, and Christmas decorations dangled from the row of mini chandeliers in the kitchen. In the dining room, the table had been set and a feast stayed warm in chafing dishes. A real Christmas tree was set up by the fireplace and decorated with sparkling glass ornaments and illuminated with soft white lights.
The poodles whimpered to be let out of their crates.
“No crying, babies.” I released them and took them outside. When I came back in and locked them up again to dry off their paws, Vladimir patted the vacant spot next to him on the couch, drawing me to him. I kicked off my air cast, plopped down on the couch, and wrapped myself up in a blanket.
“I never want there to be any secrets between us.” Vladimir scooted my body down until he had my back spooned against his chest, and my head rested in the curve of his neck. He curled and tucked me into the contours of his body like I was the weak turtle meat, and he was the hard protective shell.
He brushed his hand across my cheek. “I’m looking forward to spending a lovely evening with you.” He leaned us back in a more relaxing spoon position and kissed my cheek. “Want to do something special tonight?”
A call came in on his cell. He checked the screen. “It’s your papa.”
I sat up and retreated to the other side of the couch.
“Ricky, my friend. How are you? How’s the family? She is here. Right here. Let me have you speak to her.” Vladimir handed me his cell.
“Hi, Dad. I’m sorry. I can’t find my phone. We’re having a wonderful time…Everything is great…No, no problems…Give everyone my love.” I hung up and handed the phone back to Vladimir. He had a serious look on his face.
“He didn’t ask about how your ankle is feeling?”
I exhaled. “Well, I didn’t mention it.”
“Where is your phone?”
“Uh, Boris has it.”
“Why?”
“You know him. He’s paranoid.”
“Hmm,” he said.
“What’s hmm?” I asked.
He got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen. I followed, hopping on my good leg. He poured himself a shot of vodka and downed it. Mentally, I prepared to protect myself against one of his alarming mood swings.
“Why don’t you tell your papa about your injury? Have you something to hide?”
“I’m not hiding anything. If I told him I was hurt, he would cancel the trip and come home. I don’t want him to worry.”
Vladimir downed his vodka and set the glass on the counter. He moved toward me with penetrating eyes like a cobra. “Do you keep things from me so I don’t worry?”
Shit. I knew he would figure out something was wrong. If I could make some noise, maybe Boris would come up from downstairs to check things out. “No, of course not.”
I knocked over the almost empty vodka bottle. It bounced a half dozen times before rolling to a stop. “I’m so clumsy.” I slipped out of his grasp and followed the bottle over to its resting place by the stove. I picked it up and set it back on the counter. “I would never betray your trust. You know me better than that, right?”
“Of course, my dear. I’m sorry to question your loyalty.” He pulled my body into his and squeezed his arms around my back. “Tell me exactly how you hurt your ankle.”
Shock, panic, and fear rippled through my body. “How did I hurt myself? Didn’t Boris tell you?” Shit. Did Boris tell him the truth or was he going along with my tennis story?
“I want to hear it from you.”
“I twisted it on the court.”
He waited for the little weasel in me to elaborate. I opened my mouth to speak, but before the words came out, Boris swung open the kitchen door. “I heard noise.”
“Sorry to bother you, Boris. I knocked over a—”
Vladimir raised a hand to silence me. A sixth sense alerted me to take cover, like when a natural disaster is about to strike and animals escape to higher ground. I, too, needed an exit strategy before the testosterone tsunami hit and swept me away.
“Come in, friend. We were just talking about you. Sit. Have a drink.”
Boris had the same feeling I had. I could see it in his eyes. “What are we talking about, boss?” He turned over a couple of glasses on the bar and filled each with ice-cold vodka. He slid one to Vladimir and swirled one in his hand.
He answered him in Russian.
Boris nodded. They clinked glasses and downed their shots.
I put some weight on my ankle to test it out. It was tender without the cast. Boris wasn’t the most trustworthy person in the world, but I hoped the idea of sopping my blood off the kitchen floor would deter him from steering the boss south.
Their conversation continued, and the mercury was rising. Vladimir held out his arm for me to come to him. Obediently, I hopped to his side. He wrapped his arm around my waist and aligned my body against his.
“You’re right, boss. Carter is a special young lady.” Boris switched back to English. “I would never allow any harm to come to her.”
The boss responded in Russian.
Boris narrowed his eyes.
Vladimir unwound me. “Set the table for dinner, angel.” He kissed me on top of the head and shoved me toward the dining room.
It was going to come down to some massive Optimus Prime versus Megatron showdown. There was no way those two control freaks could coexist peacefully on one planet. I hopped past the dining room into the living room, sat on the couch, and strapped on my walking cast. Then I searched around for a weapon to protect myself: the poodles. I released them from their crates. I went to the dining room and found a carving knife in the china cabinet.
The argument had escalated, but I didn’t hear any physical fighting. I tapped open the door with my good leg to see what was happening. The door swung open and for a brief moment I saw the look of surprise on two old friends’ faces. What must I have looked like to them?
The door swung back open and Vladimir and Boris stared at me as I stood there with a twelve-inch knife in my hand, a gimp leg, and two pampered pooches whimpering and wagging their tails.
“What’s this?” Vladimir asked, unable to keep a straight face.
“I thought you might…need some help.”
“You thought we were going to kill each other? Over an argument?”
“What are we, animals?” Boris asked.
“Oh. I…” I lowered the knife. The dogs continued their yipping and wagging.
The two men slapped each other on the back, unable to keep it together. The boss came at me with his hands up, careful not to freak me out. He took the knife from my hand and set it on the counter. The poodles bounced around, excited to see their papa.
“So what was the plan, Carter? Were you going to slice my sovietnik to death or order the attack dogs to rip out his jugular vein?”
I took a couple deep breaths to relax my pounding chest.
“How do you feel about that, Boris? Will you be able to sleep tonight knowing we have a vicious devushka living under the same roof?”
“I’m sorry I—”
Boris draped his arm around my shoulder. “It’s okay, dear. You’re good girl. I am grateful you spared my life.”
“Lapsha.” I shook off his arm.
“Noodle?” Vladimir translated.
I shot Boris the evil eye. “You told me it meant asshole.”
Boris held up his hands in surrender. “Why trust me? I’m bad guy.”
Vladimir laughed. “You need a drink, angel. Wine or vodka?”
“Vodka.” I mimicked his accent. It was going to be a long night.