Very Wicked Things
An older man with a bald head and a pock-marked face opened the door for us, as if he’d been waiting. They led me in, and I expected one giant room, but there were several metal walls separating sections of the warehouse. There weren’t any items to buy, though, unless you counted the rows of expensive vehicles which took up open section of the space. It looked like a Highland Park car lot. Yeah, this wasn’t a real pawn shop, and those cars were probably stolen. I wondered what goodies lay behind the other doors. Was it drugs or guns or counterfeit money machines? Dead bodies?
Several grittier type men sat at a round table playing cards, guns strapped to their chests as they contemplated their hands. They nodded a greeting to Blondie and Red as we passed, their eyes following our progress. One of them waggled his brows at me, and I quickly averted mine. The less I saw the better.
We reached the back corner of the warehouse, stopping in front of a metal door that seemed to lead into an office. Blondie knocked and a deep voice barked a reply.
I stood there feeling frozen, taking several deep breaths, like I did before a big performance. But my heart didn’t slow, and my stomach felt like a lump of cement. The Big Bad was in that room. And he wanted to see me. I bent my head and said a tiny prayer.
Blondie and Red backed away, leaving me standing at the door.
Show time. I went in.
Alexander Barinsky sat behind a heavy desk like a king, his fingers clasped in front of him. Nearing forty, he was a handsome man with black hair and magnetic blue eyes that didn’t miss anything. He wore a gorgeous grey suit, and if I had to guess, I’d say it was Armani or one of those other famous designers.
“Otets,” I said, greeting my father with the Russian name for papa.
“Katerina, dotchka,” he murmured in his exotic lilt. “It’s been too long, daughter.”
“I prefer Dovey,” I stated.
He chuckled and even though it sounded benign, it made the fine hairs on my arm rise up and want to run away screaming. Ever the gentleman, he eased his tall body from his chair and stood until I found a seat. I crossed my ankles, clasped my hands, and kept my face blank, not letting him see my despair. Who was I kidding though? The man was a genius, especially when it came to human behavior. He could probably smell my fear like a mouse sniffs out cheese.
“You will always be Katerina to me,” he murmured.
That made me mad. “Right. You have other children? Legitimate ones?”
He smiled, not giving me shit.
“I haven’t seen you in years,” I reminded him.
And that had been a fluke.
Three years ago, Spider and I had stepped inside Neiman Marcus to buy one of his randoms a gift. He’d wandered off to finger the lingerie, and I’d gotten lost in the shoe section, drooling over a pair of cheetah heels I knew would kill my feet.
My father had walked right past me, saw me and immediately backtracked. That day, with a bemused expression, Alexander Barinsky, had taken me in, his eyes skating over my post-practice attire and probably ashen face. He’d assessed me, perhaps looking for chinks and weaknesses. Perhaps he was wondering how I’d fared all those years with Sarah. Had he kept up with me? I’d stared back at him, one part of me yearning for acknowledgement, the other part hating him for rejecting me. I’d straightened and waited, still as a statue.
As we’d examined each other, his shopping date, a tiny platinum-blonde, leaned over a nearby jewelry counter. Draped in yellow cashmere and pearls, she appeared twentyish and upper-class, but I took her for a whore playing pretend. Wife or girlfriend? I guessed the latter. I bet the wife was older and Russian. Whatever. The girl was the exact opposite of mama. And I’m sure she wasn’t his only one.
His companion tugged on his arm, probably to point at some pretty she wanted, but he didn’t look at her.
He’d run his eyes over me, lingering as if I fascinated him.
And in a creepy way, his attention scared me and thrilled me all at once.
Yeah. Mama had been thrilled by him and look what happened to her.
I don’t know all the intricacies of my parent’s relationship, but I did know he’d never bought her anything. As far as I know, he’d never paid her rent. Perhaps he gave up on her when she got lost in the drugs and alcohol or perhaps she’d never mattered to him one way or another except as a quick fuck. I don’t know the whole truth of them, just that she’d been one of his girls. But I did know he’d never dressed her up like this silly blonde thing. And, he’d never been seen with her anywhere in public.
Blonde bimbo talked and finally got him to break his stare.
He’d smirked at me and walked away.
Just like that. Over and out.
He spoke then, his voice silky, bringing me back. “Regardless of the length of time between us, you are divine. I’m delighted you came.”
“Did I have a choice?”
He waved his hands, his diamond rings catching the light. “Please. Let’s not be angry. You are here, I am here. Let’s get to know each other.”
My chest got tight. I’d wanted to hear those words years ago. “Why?”
He came around his desk to sit on the edge, letting his legs dangle loosely, casually.
I didn’t buy it for a minute.
His closeness ratcheted up my panic. The door was only five feet away. If I shoved him and then bolted would I make it? Maybe. Blondie would tackle me though. Or Red would shoot me in the back. They’d definitely beat me up.
He cupped my cheek, and I pulled away.