Russian Tattoos Obsession (21 page)

Chapter 42

Party Foul

Boris drove me home, and I finger-combed my hair and tied it back into a spare ponytail holder I kept in my bag. He sent me into Starbucks to get a Frap to sober me up before he dropped me off. Dad wouldn’t be home—he had urgent business to discuss with Vladimir—but Karen probably had orders to give me a visual frisking when I walked in the door.

I slurped my drink, but otherwise the car was quiet.

“Want to listen to some music?” Boris asked.

Slowly, I turned my head and shot him the evil eye.

“My bad,” he said.

“Do you know what my dad wanted? It’s about me, isn’t it?”

He tipped his head.

“What’s going to happen now? Things have gone too far.”

He didn’t answer.

I felt sick. “Pull over.”

He did. I got out of the car, dropped to my knees, and party fouled in the parking lot of a Burger King. I misfired and got it all over my shirtsleeve. I dragged my body to the curb and sat on the edge of the parking lot between the snow-covered landscape and the icy blacktop. Boris got out of the car and blanketed me with his long gray shadow.

“I can’t cruise through the front door of my house reeking of vodka, Vladimir’s after-shave, and vomit.”

Boris drove us to a shady motel and got a room. “Clean up and I will get you some fresh clothes. We still have time to make your curfew.”

It was the fastest power shower of my life. When Boris returned, he tossed me a long-sleeved pink t-shirt, a pair of sweats, and a toothbrush. I closed the bathroom door, changed, brushed, and came out ready to dash back home.

Boris sat on the edge of the bed. “I have spoken to the boss.”

“And?”

“Your papa went to the tennis club this evening. Your lies have caught up with you.”

***

When Boris dropped me off, Dad’s car wasn’t in the driveway, but the house was illuminated in full interrogation mode.

Karen met me in the foyer. “Are you all right, Carter?”

I acted surprised. “Of course. What’s up?” My tone sounded a tad chirpy.

“Where have you been? Why is your hair wet?”

Lifting my wet ponytail I answered, “At Kiki’s. Is it a crime to take a shower after a workout? We did, like, an hour and a half of Zumba.”

“Heads up, Carter. Your father called Kiki’s dad, and he knows their family is still in Florida.”

Shit.
My dad’s headlights flashed on the wall of the living room when the Camry turned into the driveway.

“Your father is worried sick about you. You have some explaining to do.”

I sat on the couch with my head down, elbows on knees, and hands folded in the parental smack-down ready position. When the front door opened, it occurred to me Dad might not be okay—like Coach. He stepped into the living room looking messed up, not in a bloody or beaten kind of way, more like
deflated.

“I went to Vladimir’s house. He explained everything. Did that bastard hurt you?” Dad was so stressed, his right eye was twitching.

Say what?
I blinked in confusion. “No, no. Of course not.”

Karen put her hand on my dad’s back and stared at him like he had ceremonial war paint smeared on his face.

Dad clutched my shoulders, and eyed me in strict parental mode. “I know you’ve been lying to me about your whereabouts the last few weeks, but after speaking with Vladimir, I understand why.”

I fluttered my eyes in mock confusion. “Why did you speak to Mr. Ivanov about me?”

“Rick?” Karen said.

“Let’s talk in the kitchen. I need a beer.”

Dad popped a cold one and sat next to me at the table. In case there were any more concerns about the eating disorder scenario, I munched on a big slice of cold cheese pizza and chugged a Gatorade. I was hungry and needed to eat anyway to soak up all the vodka still swimming through my bloodstream. Karen fingered the heart-shaped
Mom
pendant on her necklace, anxious to find out how bad her hot-tempered husband had messed up.

“Seeing you come home from Vladimir’s over Christmas in your
fragile
condition, I had this crazy idea he had hurt you in some way.”

Karen gasped.             

I covered my mouth to keep from spewing all over his face. I swallowed my drink. “Are you joking?”

He lowered his head, took a deep breath, and raised his hands. “I know, I know. Vladimir had the same reaction. I’m lucky he didn’t fire me or kick my ass or something.”

I felt bad for lying to him. He’d just won the Best Dad in the World Award in my eyes. Confronting Vladimir took guts. He laid his job and his personal safety on the line for me. Not to mention, his instincts were dead on.
Way to go, Dad. I’m sorry you got saddled with such a horrible daughter.

Karen put her hand on his back while he collected himself. “Vladimir didn’t want to betray your confidence,” he went on, “but under the circumstances of me accusing him of, well, you know—”

“Oh, Rick.”

He sipped his beer. “He told me why you were such an emotional wreck and why you’ve been lying to us.”

“Dad—”

“Enough. I know all about your older boyfriend. I know you’ve been pretending to be at work all the time because you want to be with him and you didn’t think I would approve.”

“Dad—”

He held up his hand. “I also know that fucking European meathead was pressuring you to take your relationship to the next level, and your refusal caused a big argument right before Christmas. Vladimir said it broke his heart to see you so upset. He wanted to hunt down that loser himself and teach him a lesson.”

European meathead—Leonardo.
“He told you that?” I covered my mouth with my hands.

“And Vladimir said you were afraid to come to me because you thought I’d be mad, so you sought his guidance. He said if I’d been a better father, then maybe you would’ve confided in me about your guy troubles rather than him.”

My heart was officially broken. “Oh, Dad. It’s not your fault.”

Dad leaned over and hugged me so tight I felt like I might crack. Karen got up to get a box of tissues. “I’m sorry I work all the time. My family needs me and I’m not here.”

“No, no. It’s my fault. I’m the one who lied. You’re the best dad ever.” My words came out a little slurry.             

Dad pulled back. “Where were you tonight, Carter?”

Oh, shit.
“I…I was at, ummm—”

“Have you been drinking?”

“Dad, just—”

“You were with that asshole again, weren’t you?” Dad stood up and dragged his hand through his hair.

“Just to give him his stuff back, I swear.”

“Why’s your hair wet? Did you sleep with him?” His chest heaved, his face burned red.

“Rick, calm down.” Karen stood next to him and put her arm around his waist.

“No. He smokes.” I lifted my lanyard and shook it at him. “I have a key to Kiki’s house. I went there to take a shower so I wouldn’t stink when I got home.”

Dad took a deep breath and held out his hands, trying to calm himself down. “Let me be clear, Carter. One, you are not to see him again. Two, if you lie to me again, you won’t leave this house outside of school. Three—” He hesitated, overcome with a rush of sadness.

“I get it, Dad. I’m sorry.”

“You’ve grown into a beautiful young woman. It kills me to see men staring at your body, objectifying you—”

“Dad, please.”

“Let him finish,” Karen said.

“Men will take advantage of your youth and vulnerability.” Dad put his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eye. “Don’t let them, sweetheart. Save yourself for someone special who deserves your love and affection.”

Tears dripped down my cheeks. Dad reeled me in for a hug. Karen joined in and rocked us side to side, kicking the parental awkwardness up a couple notches.

“You and Ryan are just friends?” Dad asked.

“Yeah.”

When our Blended Family Love Fest subsided, I ran upstairs and locked myself in my bedroom. I removed Vladimir’s wager from my pocket and unfolded it. The note said:

Anything for you, angel.

I wondered how he would react when he saw my winged
forever
heart. I clutched the note and pressed it against my chest with one hand, and placed the other on my belly to settle the bats.

Chapter 43

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
.”