Sex, Lies & Nikolai (19 page)

We were panting slick bodies after that, each coming down from whatever the fuck happened between us. My mouth was dry from breathing so hard. He slid off of me and I watched him through drugged eyes as he stood up, his naked body in plain sight.

Fuck me, the man has a body to die for, and with the sweat glistening his skin, every tattoo, scar and muscle seemed all that more pronounced. I watched him pick up his pants and remove something familiar, something he often twirled between his fingers.

His cigarette.

He moved back to the bed and grabbed a lighter on the dresser. Collapsing next to me, his shoulder pressed against mine, he placed the smoke between his lips and lit it. I watched him intently, at his chest heaving, at his swollen lips sucking on that stick and blowing smoke between them. He looked mellow and content, his tongue flicking out across his plump bottom lip every so often.

He is utterly sexy.

I can’t tell which part of him I like the most.

It wasn’t awkwardness that pushed me out of my dazed state. In fact, I didn’t feel awkward at all. I felt…comfortable. Too comfortable. And it freaked the shit out of me.

I quickly slid off the mattress, all too naked and all too visible.

“Toilet?” he asked.

I shook my head as I searched for my panties. “Home.”

“Home?”

“I have to go.”

I couldn’t find my panties.
Fuck it.
I moved on and grabbed at my bra. Feeling like I was being chased by that unfamiliar monster by the name of Comfort, I quickly put it on along with the rest of my now wrinkled outfit.

“Let me take you,” Nikolai said from behind me.

“No,” I retorted. “I’ll take myself home.”

“You don’t know where you are.”

I scoffed. “We’re still in the Estate. I know exactly where I am.”

“Alina, stop,” he said, his voice sharper than before.

I went still, looking down at my feet as he moved out of bed and walked to me. I didn’t want to look at him. No way. It was too confronting, but…but I couldn’t help it. Still naked, his dick swinging with the wind, that smoke hanging at the corner of his mouth, he told me as he walked past me, “Wait right here for a minute.”

“I can take myself home.”

He ignored that and disappeared out of the room. If he was trying to take me home, he wouldn’t have left his clothes behind and walked out in the nude. So I waited for a few minutes, my eyes flitting to the unkempt bed, my nose wrinkling at the thick scent of our session. I think by this point I’d just gone numb, because nothing really clicked inside my head. I was a standing void, closing what we just did off so it wouldn’t show on my face.

It was the envelope I noticed straight away when Nikolai returned. He stopped in front of me and held it out to me, waiting for me to take it. I don’t know how long I stared at it, the wall crumbling within as realization slammed into me.

Money.
I reminded myself.
You did this for money.

I felt a bit sick when I took it.

“Let me take you home. You’re too beautiful to walk around the streets here alone.”

“No.”

“Alina…”

I couldn’t look at him. I’d rather stare at his swinging dick, but even that was glistening with…me. I needed out.

“I have to go,” I breathed, but my voice was tiny.

The last I saw of him was his tensed jaw and hard face as I hurried past him, stumbling a little in the process.

He didn’t chase after me, thank god. The man has an uncanny ability of knowing when not to push me.

I shut the front door behind me and paced to the elevator, clicking the button repeatedly when I got there. I kept glancing down the hallway, half expecting Nikolai would appear. The second the doors slid open, I stepped in, grimacing at the mirrored walls.

I looked absolutely trashy, and it didn’t help there was a woman there witnessing the state of me, all done up in her summer dress and flashy blue pumps. I stood as far away from her as possible, and we rode down the elevator in painful silence. I caught her eyes looking me over in our reflection, pursing her lips like a fish.

The judgement.

So much judgment.

I blazed out of there the second the elevators opened, and as I stepped out onto the sidewalk, I spun around, trying to figure out where the fuck I was. There was still a lot of light left, and the people were friendlier than my area. So I asked for directions, and then I took two buses to get home.

I had one thing on my mind the entire journey back.

I needed to clean the dirty off.

Shutting the water off now after I’ve scrubbed myself black and blue, I wrap the towel around my body and barely make it two feet before collapsing on the toilet. I sob into my hands, the weight of life growing heavier as I ask myself, over and over again, why I don’t feel clean enough.

Nikolai

I idle the car across the street from her apartment and wait.

I wait a very long time before a bus comes to a stop halfway down the street and Alina comes flying out, hurrying to her building. Her head’s down, her arms are crossed, and her blonde hair falls all around her. My grip around the steering wheel tightens when faces turn to watch her. Men scoping her out, wondering if she’s easy access.

I should have taken her home myself, but she didn’t look like she wanted me anywhere near her. By the end, she appeared repulsed by me.

With a bruised ego, I still put myself through this punishment. Of watching her, wanting her, and feeling so utterly fixated by her.

The damn girl with the x-factor.

She slows down in front of a homeless man on the ground, his back against the building beside hers. He says something to her, and my hand’s already gripping the door handle, ready to jump out in case he does something. Alina talks back to him, and then she bends over and slips change into a Styrofoam cup by his foot. He smiles at her and she leaves, digging out her key from her pocket.

When she disappears inside her apartment, I feel at ease. She’s home. She’s safe. That’s all that matters.

I skim the building for a long moment, a grim tightening in my chest as I question just how safe a building this run down can possibly be.

Then I find myself climbing out of the car and hurrying into the building. I take the elevator up and find my way to her door, stopping quietly in front of it. I move close, until my forehead is touching her door, and then I shut my eyes, angle my head to it and listen.

It’s quiet at first. I don’t hear anything but light movements. Paranoia has me gripping the doorknob, about to try and twist it open when a faint giggle sounds out. The sound of her little sister breaking through the air, followed by the sound of Alina’s voice.

I let go of the door and back away.

She’s home.

She’s safe.

I don’t hate Nikolai because of what I did. How can I when I don’t spend a single second of the next day stressing about money? I feel like I’m breathing a little easier as I walk with Scarlett to the nearby park.

I’m tender everywhere. Hell, peeing even stings. But I feel relaxed despite all that. My limbs are loose, like I’m not entirely as weighed down as I felt last night on the toilet. It was just a moment of weakness. Of thinking that there was something more I was fighting against with Nikolai. But if there was, I wouldn’t have woken up with such clarity and feeling of relief when I pulled that envelope from out of my pillow. I still don’t know where to hide that money, and for now it comes with me wherever I go, sitting discreetly within my bra.

Scarlett tears her grip from my hand the second the park comes into view and races to it. Her chest slams purposely into a swing, kicking back and forth on it to gain enough momentum to swing.

“Shouldn’t you be sitting your fat little bum on that instead?” I laugh, ruffling her hair as I move to the slide to inspect it. Even though the sky is overcast, the slides could still be burning hot. The weather has turned from scorching to this nasty humidity that feels like you’re the steam coming out of a kettle.

“Then swing me, Alina!” Scarlett screams, digging her feet into the woodchips on the ground so she can come to a full stop.

When I’m satisfied the slides are cool enough to go down, I then inspect the ground, kicking over all the woodchips. A lot of junkies come through here, and the one thing that terrifies me are needles. I’ve heard the horror stories – hell I saw a few in my childhood years, these pointed ends sticking out of the sandpit or hiding under a pile of woodchips under the slide. Looking for them is second nature to me now.

After I’m thoroughly satisfied there’s nothing around, I return to her and plop her bottom down on the swing. She wraps her tiny fingers around the chain and closes her eyes, liking the feeling more when she’s not looking as she moves.

“Swing me higher,” she tells me when she’s not satisfied with my service.

“What if you fall on your face?” I ask, pushing her gently.

“Higher,” she pushes, stubbornly.

I push a little higher.

“Alina, I’m not a baby. Higher!”

When I reluctantly comply, she screams, giggling when she reaches the top and comes flying back down. The girl is an adrenaline junkie. I should be concerned about it, but I’m laughing too hard to care.

I swing her for a while, until she’s had enough and is resting her head against the chain. I take a seat on the swing next to her and bump her with my hip so she swings sideways along with me. Her brown eyes shine when they look back at me.

“Are we okay now?” she asks, taking me by surprise.

“Why wouldn’t we be, beautiful?”

She shrugs. “Because you’ve been upset a lot, and now you’re better.”

“I don’t mean to be upset.”

“I know, but when Mom left, you were sad all the time.”

I smile tenderly. “Everything’s okay now.”

She frowns, her thumb rubbing back and forth on the chain. “Mom was sad when she left. I was scared you’d leave me too.”

I bump her again so she looks at me. “It doesn’t matter how sad I ever get, I could never leave you, Scar. Never, ever. It won’t happen. I promise.”

She nods, and I know it’s one of those times I can’t help her. A promise is carried out through actions, not words.

Scarlett goes down the slide after that, and we play a bit of tag. On our way home, we stop by the shops and I buy her some snacks. Chocolates and waffles and these Dora the Explorer gummies that look sickly sweet. I never notice the rose she picks up in the flower aisle until we’re in the check out. I pick it up out of the shopping basket and inspect it.

“To make the house look brighter,” Scarlett explains timidly. It’s the first time she’s never flat out asked for something. I think in that moment I realize clearly just how much my stress has affected her. I feel like shit for it.

“Brilliant idea,” I tell her with a grin. “You’re really smart.”

Her cheeks go pink at the compliment. Her mood is lifted greatly, and she skips home by my side, munching on her chocolate.

I haven’t felt so rich in my life.

*

As I lay next to Scarlett that night, I gaze at the rose sitting in the vase on the night stand. My fingers run through the petals and down the stem. What a pretty fleeting little thing. I don’t know how long it’ll be before it starts to droop and die, but I like staring at it.

My other hand is currently tucked under the pillow, touching at the envelope. It stands for so much to me right now. A way out, and a fresh start. I just don’t know where or what I’ll do when I get there.

I’ve spent so much of my life dreaming of being behind the wheel of a car, driving across the country until I find a nice little place to call home. But now that it’s actually possible I start to question everything.

I have no qualifications, no experience. I know if I could go to school I’d do something to help others like myself. But I can’t possibly save enough money to throw into schooling. I’d rather it go to Scarlett’s education than myself. She’s the blank slate, uncorrupted and untouched. She deserves every single penny I get out of this thing I’m doing with Nikolai.

Funny I could be so selfless when I used to think of nothing but myself. Funnier too when I think of how little I have in common with the girl I used to be five years ago. I don’t think I’d be able to stand ten minutes with her.

Life is strange.

I fall asleep with that thought, and I don’t stir until the middle of the night when I hear the faint sound of creaks drift through the unit. I open my eyes and stare into darkness, knowing there’s nothing there, that I’m probably having a nightmare and I’m half-conscious.

Still.

I have this feeling of being observed. Worse yet, when I get up in the morning, feeling safe with the sun streaming through the window, I’m almost convinced that things are out of place than when I left them. Was the toilet paper hanging that far? Did I really leave the kitchen towel on the counter? And is it like me not to put the knife back into its place?

*

I drop Scarlett off, and this time when I do I walk around Roberta’s unit. I do this sometimes just to be sure all is okay. Roberta always gives me this insulted look, pursing her lips as I glance into every single room.

“I’m just making sure,” I tell her.

“Sure of what?” she asks dryly. “If you’re looking for the serial killer, he’s hiding in my closet under all my bedsheets.”

“Sorry,” I apologize, watching Scarlett as she puts together one of Roberta’s puzzles on the floor. “I just…I feel out of sorts lately and paranoid.”

Her face softens. “It’s natural for a mother to feel that way.”

“I’m not her mother.”

“You may as well be, darling, with everything you do for her.”

“It’s not easy, Roberta.”

“No, it’s not. But Scarlett has a heart of gold. Right now she needs to feel like someone’s there for her, and I think you’re doing it right.”

I give her a soft smile. “Thank you.”

“Now are you done inspecting my unit, or do you need sniffer dogs to finish it off?”

“Are you giving me permission?”

She laughs. “Bloody mouth on you.”

I leave the lunch I made for Scarlett in Roberta’s fridge. Then I leave, and it’s always hard walking away from Scarlett. I always feel like I’m leaving a part of me behind.

I’m seconds from taking the elevator when the doors slide open. I sigh long and hard at the beautiful sight before me. There’s another drunk dude sleeping inside, and he’s pissed himself. My nose wrinkles in disgust. Why? Why do they do this? If they made it far enough to the building, they can’t make it far enough to their door?

Disgusted, I let the doors close on him and walk to the stairwell. I bloody hate taking the stairs. The lighting is so dim, there are shadows in every corner. I always feel like I’m going to get stabbed to death, especially around level three where there is an especially pungent smell in the air and…sticky puddles on the ground.

Level three is definitely where hope gets mutilated to death.

I make it out alive and am about to open the glass door when I look up and see him. Immediately I come to a stop.

Nikolai is standing out front of my apartment building, hands in the pockets of yet another fine suit. He’s leaning back against his car, He has this habit of looking around him, taking in his surroundings with this concentrated expression on his face.

What is he doing here?

I feel kind of special right now, because I know whatever he’s here for, it’s to do with me.

I’m nervous when I open the door, catching his attention. My body warms when his eyes connect with mine. He pushes off the car and waits for me. As I move, I catch his eyes drift over me, settling on the white flowy skirt I
sort of
hoped he’d see me in. His face softens; he looks almost breathless as he journeys up my body to my face where his gaze lingers longer.

He makes me feel beautiful with a single look.

I thought our dynamic would change, but here we are and he can’t keep his eyes off of me.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, wringing my hands together as I stop in front of him.

“I was in the neighbourhood,” he answers, shrugging casually, like him standing here in front of my building is nothing unusual.

I fight the twitch in my lips. “In the neighbourhood? Really?”

He smirks, this devilish glint in his eye. “Really, Alina.”

My stomach clenches at the way he says my name, similar to the ache in his voice when he moaned it in my ear the last time he took me.

“I usually walk,” I explain. “It’s not far.”

He doesn’t waste a second with his response. “Then I’ll walk with you.”

I look at his car and then at him. “You really don’t need to do that, Nikolai.”

“I want to.”

“But your car…”

“My car is an inanimate object. I’m sure I won’t hurt its feelings.”

“Ah, smartass.”

He smiles. “Come on. Let’s walk. I need to stretch my legs out.”

I shrug. “Sure, if you’re prepared to have your inanimate object busted into.”

“It’s just a car.”

“It’s a lot of money.”

“So are you, but the difference is you’re worth it.”

Fuck he’s smooth, worse yet I don’t even think he is trying to be.

Breathe.

“It’s just a walk, Alina.”

I nod slowly. Yeah, just a walk.

He abandons his car in the shittiest area known to mankind and walks with me. For a couple minutes I resist looking at him. At most I catch sight of his tatted hands, but even that stops me cold when I imagine one wrapped around my throat.

Still. I wonder what they all mean. What are the symbols on his fingers? What do the writings on his chest, abdomen and back say? And who the hell is he really? He was evasive the last time I questioned him, and I reckon he’ll be that way again if I push.

And I don’t want to push.

I don’t want to know Nikolai.

I keep my lips sealed, determined to keep this intense man at arm’s reach.

“Does your sister always stay with your neighbour while you work?” he asks, curiously.

I nod. “With Roberta, yes.”

“And before that it was your mother?”

“Barely.”

“When she left” – he looks at me – “your sister was with your neighbour?”

I cast my eyes to the ground, not answering right away. When I do, my voice is small. “Roberta was at the breast clinic. I couldn’t afford to miss work, and Mom was sober, so…”

He’s quiet for a moment. Then, “It wasn’t your fault.”

I can’t speak, because I sure as shit feel like it’s my fault.

We walk in silence the rest of the way there. His fingers brush against mine occasionally, and I don’t know if it’s just because we’re so close to one another, or if he’s doing it purposely, but my fingers twitch every time I feel him.

When we make it to the store, I grip my purse strap harder and turn to him. I want to thank him for walking me, but the way he stares at me knocks me speechless.

“I want to see you again, Alina,” he strains out.

My chest tightens, but I don’t how to answer.

“When are you coming back to me? Give me a time, rybka.”

I open my mouth, stammering, “I don’t know. It’s…I have work and…”

He looks over my shoulder, at the entrance. “You don’t have to work here.”

Is he crazy? “Of course I do.”

“Doesn’t my help ensure that you don’t?”

“Your…
help
is temporary.”