You Don't Know Me: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (15 page)

Tasha Evanoff

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xwtdhWltSIg

Losing My Religion

T
he next day I call Noah’s phone numerous times, but it is switched off all day and all night. I try not to worry. His battery died. He lost his phone. But my heart knows it is not that. He would never switch his phone off. Not at a time like this.

I call his club, The Matrix, put on an American accent, and pretend that I am Dahlia, Alexander Malenkov’s wife. I ask to speak to Noah, but the manager tells me nobody has heard from him since last night. He hasn’t called any of his other businesses which is very weird.

‘I’ll get him to call you as soon as he calls in,’ he says.

‘No. No need,’ I say quickly. ‘I’ll call him tomorrow.’

I sit on my bed and think. I think of all the possibilities that are open to me. Then I lay my plans meticulously. I play with a best case scenario and a worst case. I make a list of every move I plan to make, then I make a list of everything that can go wrong on every single move. Then I think up things that can go wrong outside of my actions.

At eight I go down to dinner and act normal. After dinner I go up to Baba’s room and I tell her what I want to do. Step by step. She doesn’t say a word. When I finish talking she puts her hand gently on my head. I know it is her way of giving me her blessing. I take her hand in my own and, bringing it to my lips, kiss it.

Later, when the household goes to sleep, Baba comes to my room and I slip out of the house and climb the wall. I tell the cab driver to take me to Noah’s house. As we drive up to the road I see it in complete darkness. I don’t react. It is something I have already planned for. My whole body feels cold. I don’t think about what has happened to him. If I do, I will just want to give up and die too.

The car comes to a stop. The driver turns to look at me.

My stomach is in knots. ‘I’ve changed my mind. Take me to Rusaki.’

Rusaki is Dimitri Semenov’s club. It is a Russian stripper club located in the underbelly of the city.

This is it now, Tasha. There's no going back.

I know I have to see it through to the very end. I turn my attention to the night traffic whizzing by until the cab driver pulls up outside its gaudy red and gold awning.

‘We’re here my love,’ the taxi driver says.

I feel my heartbeat rise a notch as I take a deep breath and step out of the car. I pass the driver his money and thank him. Gathering my coat tightly around myself in an unconsciously defensive gesture, I turn around to face the club’s neon lights. As I walk up to it, I realize what I am doing. I let go. Tilting my chin and letting my hands swing confidently, I go up to the entrance. There are three bouncers in black suits watching me approach with various expressions, leering, admiring, and expressionless.

I’m met by the large outstretched palm of the expressionless one. ‘Dancers to the side door,’ he says in a strong Russian accent, jerking his head towards a grey side door.

Beside me an obviously wealthy Russian man in a camel hair coat and an icy blonde on each arm is respectfully ushered in.

‘I’m not a dancer.’

The leering one comes forward. ‘What are you then?’ he asks. His accent is English.

‘I’m here to see Dimitri Semenov.’

The leering guy sniggers. ‘Sorry darlin’. Even if you suck my cock you can’t hope to see him.’

I stare at him as haughtily as I can, as my father would have done.

Keeping my expression blank I issue my instruction. ‘Tell him Tasha Evanoff is here to see him.’

‘I don’t care if you’re the Queen of England, you’re not going in, little pussycat.’

‘Did you say Evanoff?’ the expressionless bouncer cuts in suddenly.

‘Yes.’

The bouncer who was laughing at his own joke stops abruptly.

‘You’re Nikita Evanoff’s daughter,’ he repeats incredulously.

‘That’s right.’

‘Got any ID to prove that?’

I hand over my driver’s license.

He looks at it. ‘I’ll just hold on to this for a minute.’

‘Of course,’ I say coolly.

He unhooks the red rope and stands aside. ‘I’m sorry about my colleague’s behavior, Miss Evanoff,’ he says in Russian. ‘He didn't know who you were and meant no harm. He’s English.’ 

‘Of course,’ I say graciously.

‘Perhaps you’d like a drink while I tell him you are here.’

‘Thank you, no,’ I say.

As I follow him I hear the rude bouncer ask the admiring bouncer, ‘Who the hell is Nikita Evanoff?’

I don’t hear his reply.

‘Please wait here,’ he says, and disappears into a dark door.

I look around me. I’ve never been to a strip club. There is something sad and desperate about the women and the men. Both moving towards each other like magnets but connected only by the currency of money. I watch a woman on a pole.

‘Come this way please,’ the bouncer says close to my ear.

I follow him and we walk in silence along a darkened hallway, the sounds of our footsteps on the wooden floors creating an eerie feel. I feel my stomach churn again. At the end of the hallway we take a lift to the top. The door opens to a large room that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a French palace. It is a startling contrast to the rest of the club.

‘I’m going to have to frisk you, I’m afraid,’ he says politely.

I hold my arms out as he brushes his hands down my sides, under my breasts, around my waist, and down my thighs. He stops at my knees. He is very professional about it, and I feel as cold as ice.

‘This way,’ he says. He opens a set of double doors and we enter a large, expensively decorated room.

Dimitri Semenov is sitting on a long sofa with two topless blonde girls wearing thongs. They look frightened. I imagine them to be girls trafficked from Ukraine or Russia. He is carelessly fondling the breasts of one of them as he watches me with small, curious eyes.  

‘Come in and sit down, Tasha,’ he invites cordially.

Then in a completely psychotic about-turn, he harshly orders the man who had shown me in to get out.

My eyebrows rise in surprise and he smiles. A sly, ugly smile. A shudder goes through me. I have heard this man is an utterly ruthless monster. I also know that other than me, no one hates my father more than him, and I have come to see him because of the old maxim.

The enemy of my enemy is my friend.

‘So what can I do for Nikita’s beloved only daughter?’ He says the words as if he is slurping them. He can hardly hide his delight that I have come to see him. He understands exactly what it means when your enemy’s daughter comes to see you.

‘I cannot speak to you in the presence of anyone else,’ I say quietly.

He slaps the breast he was just fondling. ‘You heard her. What are you waiting for?’ Both women jump up and literally run out of the room.

He picks up his glass of amber liquid and takes a sip. ‘There you go. Just you and me. Now speak.’

‘I need to hire two of your most silent men for a day.’

His eyes narrow. ‘All my men are silent.’ Then to make sure that he has not misunderstood the situation, he asks, ‘Does your father know you are here?’

I shake my head.

He smiles slowly. ‘What sort of … expertise should they possess?’

‘Heavy lifting. They must be able to lift, help transport, and completely dispose of a heavy object.’

His smile widens even further. ‘Do you know I have a pig farm? Those greedy beasts will eat anything. Back in Russia we used to feed them sawdust. Naturally, they enjoy a change to their diet as much as the next man.’ His eyes glitter with cruelty.

‘How much will it cost me?’ I ask.

‘For Nikita Evanoff’s daughter … nothing,’ he declares grandly, then he laughs again with the glee of knowing he is looking at the face of the instrument of his enemy’s downfall.

Tasha Evanoff

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W_rZ9rHFwGY

You Ruin Me

I
t is not I, but Baba who invites my father to join us for dinner. He might have thought it suspicious if the invitation came from me, but since it is Baba, Baba who has loved him ever since he was born, Baba, who would have walked over hot coals for him, it never crosses his mind that she is inviting him to his last supper. He simply assumes she is trying to make peace between her warring kin.

To seal the deal, she tells him that the Chef is preparing his favorite pork
shashlik
, chunks of barbequed meat marinated in pomegranate juice.

He comes in smiling, confident … happy. Not a thought for the harmless, innocent dog he butchered. Not just any creature. My baby. It’s not even like he didn’t know how much I adored that dog. I look up at him in wonder. This is my father. Incredible how he had completely brainwashed and manipulated me into accepting what he did to my mother.

It is almost as if the love he deliberately withheld from me put me under a spell where all I wanted to do was obey him and please him. Or perhaps my sub-conscious mind assimilated that scene with my mother better than I properly understood it. Fall out of line and get kicked out of the house forever. So I became the bird in a gilded cage. The world assumed I sang, but I was gray inside.

If I hadn’t had the courage to turn up at Noah’s office that night, I might still be under his spell. But I’ve had a taste of what lies outside the cage.  He crossed the line when he murdered my Sergei. I will never forgive him for that.

He looks at me directly and smiles. ‘You look well,
Solnyshko.’

‘Thank you, Papa,’ I reply with lowered eyes.

He asks our server to bring him two bottles of Tsimlansky Black. Baba approves. The smoky, dusty red redolent with the smell of forest floor is perfect with chargrilled meat.

The wine is uncorked and left to breathe, and our glasses are filled with anisette. My father raises his glass and makes a toast.

‘To the wealth of this family.’

I dutifully throw the drink down my throat.

He looks directly at me. ‘One day, you will understand me.’

We stare at each other and suddenly we are locked in a vortex. There is no one else but us in this spinning world. The powerful bonds of love, hate, fear, loyalty, duty, deceit keeps us joined together as we swirl inexorably. Surely it must be clear to him that I am the child who has turned against its own father? It is impossible that he has not guessed his meek daughter and loving mother are about to kiss his cheek and betray him. I can’t breathe. My lungs feel as if they are bursting.

Then he turns his eyes away from mine and reaches for a piece of black bread. I exhale the breath I was holding slowly. I look at his flushed face and, no, he has no idea. We are only chess pieces on his board. His arrogance would never allow him to believe that we could pick up our own skirts and move ourselves, or the other pieces.

The wine is poured, the food is brought in. There is not just
shashlik
but
kulebyakas
(pies made with meat, chicken, and cheese), a variety of blinis, pastries, fritters, meat jellies, paté, boneless duck with cucumber, two types of
ukhas
(soup). It is clear that each dish has been lovingly prepared and beautifully presented.

How I do, I do not know, but I consume the feast. As does Baba. Once my father stops to take a phone call, my eyes collide with Baba’s and my heart stops. For an instant, it looks as if she has changed her mind and cannot bring herself to go through with our plan, but then she forces herself to smile at me. It is a relief to know that seeing Papa at his most charming has not changed her mind.

The desserts arrive, chocolate mousse, another favorite of Papa’s. A sweet Hungarian wine Tokaj is opened and our glasses filled.

More anisette is poured, more toasts are made.

Baba looks at Papa. ‘Where there is love, there is no sin,’ she says. We down our drinks.

He fills our glasses again. ‘To love,’ Papa says, holding his glass out to Baba.

‘To long life,’ I say, and we empty our glasses again. The alcohol burns my throat.

Then I watch him eat the mousse. He appears to enjoy it and not notice the aftertaste of the pills I got from Dimitri. I had been worried he would detect it, but he has eaten and drunk so much his senses have been significantly dulled. By the time coffee is served my father starts slurring his words. Baba asks one of the servants to help him up to his room.

Most of the servants start preparing to go home.

I go to my room and change into jeans, a T-shirt, and a thick sweater and sneakers.

10.15pm: it is the change-over time. For now only a skeleton staff of two guards at the entrance and, of course, the prowling dogs. Then in less than an hour, all stations, back, front and sides, will be fully manned again.

10.20pm: I go out and call to the dogs. I bring them into the storeroom where I have put meat left over from our meal and close them in. Then I jam the camera by putting a piece of wood on the arm that moves it on its one-hundred-and-eighty-degree journey. It is unlikely that the men in the guardhouse will notice that the camera has stopped turning. If they do, I’m dead.

I wait.

10.30: I throw the rope ladder over the wall. Dimitri’s men, Kiri and Vasluv, all dressed in black, climb silently over the wall. I pull the rope ladder back. I point at the stick holding the camera from moving and one of the men pulls it off. We slip into the dark kitchen and put the rope ladder and the stick into the bag.

10.34: I lead them to my father’s room and stand watching as they inject my father with a longer lasting, deeper sedative. Then they pick him up and carry him down the stairs. They stop at the front door and wait for me.

10.40: I go out to the storeroom and let the dogs loose.

10.45: I see first the dogs, then both guards, their alarms bleeping, their guns at the ready, racing towards the back entrance. The computer screen is showing the back entrance has been breached. There may be an intruder in the grounds.

10.46: Baba cuts the electricity. The entire house goes dark. The cameras stop working. With my heart pounding, I run out to my father’s car, start the engine, and open the trunk. The two men carry my father out of the house. They move surprisingly quickly considering my father’s bulk. They stuff him into the trunk and close it. Vasluv uses the key to open the electric gates that are stuck shut without electricity. Then he waits for us by the gates. Oh, shit. I see that one of my father’s socks has dropped to the ground.

‘The sock,’ I whisper, pointing to it lying on the driveway.

‘Fuck,’ Kiri curses. He jumps out of the car, runs to it, and picks it up.

‘Hurry up,’ I urge, looking nervously towards the back of the house. Soon the guards and dogs will return. 

‘Come on, come on,’ I say, my voice full of panic. I can already hear the dogs coming around the side of the house. They will tear Kiri to bits if they find him running in the compound. As he nears, I put my foot on the pedal and the car starts moving. The rest of the guards should be arriving soon. I pray they don’t arrive early.

Kiri lunges into the open car door and slams it closed as I drive through the gates. Vasluv gets the gates to clang into place just as the dogs slam themselves against it in such a frenzy of barking that their mouths froth. In the rear mirror I see one of them running to where the sock dropped, sniffing the ground at the scent left by Kiri.

My palms are sweating so much they slip on the steering wheel. I wipe them on my jeans one by one as I slowly drive down the road and pick up Vasluv. After driving around the block I park the car and call Baba.

10.59: ‘Is it still okay?’ I ask.

‘Nothing to worry about, child. I’ve spoken to the guards. Apparently, it was just a false alarm. There was a glitch and the electricity went off. It’s back on again and everybody is back at their stations.’

I breathe a sigh of relief and with shaking hands start the engine again.