Very Wicked Things (34 page)

I couldn’t comprehend her childhood or her world. She was right about that.

Did I hate her?
Never.
Our past was imprinted on my useless heart.

When I’d seen for my own eyes what she’d done at the hotel, I’d crashed and burned hard, my heart feeling ripped out of my chest. I hadn’t seen the man she was with, but if I had, he wouldn’t be walking. Complete and utter rage had dogged me the entire weekend, and I’d holed up in my room, agonizing over what I’d learned.

Was this on me too? Had I unknowingly pushed her in that direction when I hadn’t asked enough questions that night when the car had followed us? Or the next day at school?

Had I seen the clues but not noticed? I winced, remembering the night in the snow when she’d lost it.

Had helping Emma fucked up everything?

I leaned my head back against the interior of the loft. We had so much between us, my past, what she’d done. It dawned on me I hadn’t set her straight about Emma. And now she might never know.

Would she give up ballet and—fuck me—would she continue with this loanshark?

My body drew up and my hands tightened at that disgusting thought, and I took my frustration out on the ground, pounding it with my fists, wishing I could take it to this nameless man’s face, wishing I could solve all her problems for her.

But she wouldn’t let me.

And if that was true, then I needed to let her go. You can’t help someone who doesn’t want it. Didn’t I know that as well as anyone? I hadn’t let my dad or Dovey pull me out of my pit a year ago.

I looked around at the names on the wall, thinking how naïve we’d been then, not knowing that life was about to throw us curve balls. Between the day we’d met and today, we’d been irrevocably changed, altered into adults before our time. Our pasts had carved its history into us.

And here’s the thing: I think—I think I loved the Dovey today
more
than the girl I’d fallen for a year ago.

Go figure that one out.

She was grittier and tougher. She’d sell her soul for you. Perhaps she’d always been that way and I’d never seen it. Perhaps it took this for me to see her clearly.

And me. I’ve reached the end of my road. I got nowhere else to go. It’s either carry on with this pathetic self-pitying or choose to live.

I wanted to lay down this shitty baggage and feel lighter. I’d sunk myself low over the past year, letting blame rule my life, but lately, I’d been steadily easing my load. I’ve realized I’m only human, and I made some human mistakes.

So did my father.

So did my mother.

And in the end, my mother was the one responsible for her own actions,
not me.

I sat there, letting the idea of starting again soak in, finding beauty in the balance of life. We have ups and downs, and how we deal is up to us. Did I want to cry like a pussy or kick it in the ass?

It hit me then, my epiphany. Death is a constant, but love? It is rare. I’d lost so much already.
I didn’t want to lose at love, too
.

With hope flickering, I rose up, knowing what I had to do. Whether she wanted it or not, I had to help Dovey.

“
Life is a lot like chess. Sometimes you gotta sacrifice the queen to win
.”

–
Dovey

I CAME HOME spent from the rollercoaster of my day, but I kept going.

Sarah napped, Heather-Lynn took Ricky for a walk, and I worked in the studio, calling the parents of students, letting them know we were canceling Sarah’s classes after this spring semester. I explained about her disease, and of course, they were gracious. I told them to make other plans for the fall. I hoped we’d be gone by then.

In fact, the realtor had called, asking if she could show the building to a prospective buyer. I’d gotten thrilled, seeing an end to our troubles, but it was dashed when she said they weren’t in a hurry to buy, simply checking out prospective places to open a clothing store that also had living facilities. But still, it was a chance, so I went nuts, polishing the wood floors—although I wasn’t sure they’d appreciate it if they didn’t plan on using it as a studio. Whatever. I cleaned like a mad woman, dusting the apartment, taking out trash, mopping the tile in the kitchen. Sarah had let things slide and I understood it. She’d lost motivation for it. But maybe it was part of her disease, too. Maybe she didn’t notice the dirty dishes or the clothes piled up in the laundry room. Me leaving BA had been the right choice.

I’d just sat down when my phone pinged.

Come to the warehouse,
Alexander texted.

Revulsion shot through me at the thought of seeing him, but I left anyway, grabbing a handbag on the way out the door.

Maybe I’d be back before Sarah got up.

I arrived, and Blondie let me in, same as last time, waving me to the back. It felt surreal to know I’d been here three times in the past week to see Alexander, the man who’d forgotten me most of my life.

Red opened Alexander’s office door for me.

There he waited, sitting pretty behind his opulence.

I didn’t sit this time, seeing him—seeing myself—clearly. He was a man with an enormous ego who had probably never cared about anyone his entire life. It wasn’t just me he had no feelings for. It was everyone.

I crossed my arms. And waited.

He flicked his eyes over my harem pants, tunic, and plain flats, studying me carefully. Yeah, that’s right. Crazy, mixed-up-outfit girl was gone, and real Dovey was back.

I lifted my chin a notch higher. I was not his prey. I was not my mama.

He let his pen fall to the desk. “I got an excellent report this morning from an old friend.”

“Yeah?”

He smiled at my brevity. “You make me proud, Katerina. You are a good Russian girl.”

I closed my eyes at how
wrong
he was.

Cut to the chase. “How many more times?” I asked.

He considered me thoughtfully, his eyes gleaming as he took in my rigid shoulders, the tilt of my head. He tapped his fingers against the desk. “It seems you struck a chord with him. Perhaps it is because you did everything he asked?” He arched a brow, as if asking what I’d done to make The Man so enamored of me.

I glared. If he thought for one minute, I was going to tell him about…

“He wants to see you again. Only this time, it’s different.”

I froze, my brain conjuring up all kinds of
different
. The Man had seemed normal, as far as normal goes for an older guy who liked to have virgins. But perhaps he wanted stranger things now. Darker. And that made me squirm.

“Please explain,” I asked politely.

His eyes gleamed. “It’s all been arranged. You’re going to Vegas tomorrow, and he’ll meet you there.” He shuffled some papers around and stuck one out at me. “Here are the instructions for your flight and hotel, all paid for by him, as well as incidentals. You will do as he says. You are his.”

Breathe, breathe, breathe. Don’t throw-up. “And then it’s over?”
Will we be free?

He rubbed a spot on his desk, thinking. Silence ticked by, and I imagined I could see the wheels turning in his head, calculating figures. My eyes burned into him.

We locked eyes, and when I didn’t drop mine, I think he could see that I was different.

“Yes.” Simple and short, it sent a wave of relief through me.

“You will leave us alone?” I had to hear it again.

He gave me a small nod.

Without another word, I whipped out of his office. I walked past them all, got in my car and drove home.

WHEN I GOT back, Heather-Lynn met me at the door, a cup of tea in her hand. She hugged me but didn’t ask where I’d been. Maybe she knew by the set of my face or the slump in my shoulders. She gave me a squeeze and we went to the kitchen.

Sarah bounced around the kitchen, talking about dinner. She never asked where I’d been because she hadn’t realized I’d been missing. We decided on spaghetti and salad. But Sarah couldn’t find some of her pots. I found the pan for the noodles, and Heather-Lynn conjured up the skillet to brown the meat.

After we had everything simmering, I got paper, pen, and tape out. We wrote out labels for the cupboards:
pans, utensils, plates, bowls, dry goods, medication.
Heather-Lynn found a country station on the radio, and we listened as we busied ourselves adhering the pieces of paper to the drawers and cabinets. There. Now, Sarah could find whatever she needed.

In the face of what Sarah dealt with every day, my problems were nothing.

Later, after we’d eaten and Sarah had gone on to bed, I told Heather-Lynn about The Man and Vegas and how I was flying out see him in the morning. I didn’t know how long I’d be gone, maybe just a few days I hoped. She said she could swing watching Sarah until I returned.

I’d decided to tell Sarah—if she asked— that I was leaving for a sudden audition with a ballet company in Atlanta. There had been a company there we’d looked at. I hated to lie, but it would kill her to know the truth.

Heather-Lynn helped me pack. We tossed in pants and shirts and dresses and shoes, neither one of us caring if things matched or not. Things were moving faster than I could think, and I was on auto pilot mode, pushing the right buttons.

I may have seemed calm, but I wasn’t. I busied myself because if I took the time to sit down and process everything, I might have lost it.

The next day, I rose at seven, showered, and dressed in comfortable clothes. I called a cab, went to the airport, and boarded flight 328 bound for Las Vegas, arriving at three in the afternoon Pacific Time. It was practically done.