Almost Broken Up (Almost Bad Boys) (11 page)

As soon as we get to the top of the stairs, we see another interesting scene. Ali and Josh are talking and giggling. Ali stands with her back against the wall, and Josh leans toward her, bracing himself with his hand on the wall, right by her head. They are totally flirting! Really? Now? Here?

I cluck my tongue and shake my head from side to side. Ali unhurriedly looks up over Josh’s outstretched arm and grins at me. I give her a
whatever, girlfriend
look.
 

Josh whispers something in her ear. She lets out a short laugh and nods.

“Looks like you’re ready to go.” I snort at Ali. “Later, Josh.” I give him a fleeting look.
 

“I’m going too.” He grabs his shirt, jacket, and shoes and rushes after us.
 

“Amelie’s going to be disappointed,” I taunt.
 

“She’ll get over it. Besides, I was held at gun point, which is a definite clause for breach of the agency contract.”

“So you’re really an escort? From an escort agency?” I ask, amused.
 

“Yes, ma’am. And a law student.” He smiles. He has a beautiful smile. I wonder how old he is. Probably no more than twenty-three.
 

I snort. “A law student? Why do you work as an escort then?”

“To pay the student loans,” he sounds as if explaining this to a child.
 

Svetlana pauses in the kitchen, head tilted to the side. I wonder what she’s looking at when she walks over to the fireplace mantel and picks up one of the phalluses. She holds it for a moment, studying it, and then her fingers open. The ceramic dick drops to the hearth and shatters into several jagged pieces.
 

“This is for stealing my Lenochka,” Svetlana says.
 

“Feeling a bit vindictive, aren’t you?” I tease. “This looked expensive.” I point to the broken phallus.
 

She squats down. “Yeah, it did. That’s why I broke it.”

I make a mental note not to cross my new friend. She has her ways of getting back at those who piss her off. Svetlana is picking up the broken pieces and stuffing them in her purse.
 

“What are you doing?” Ali asks. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna glue this back together.”

“Not at all. But I’m not leaving the proof that I broke it.”

I look at Ali and mockingly lift my eyebrows. “That’s how you hide the evidence. I just learned something new.”
 

We file out through the back door—the way we came—and then around the corner to Svetlana’s car. Ali and Josh are walking behind me and Svetlana, giggling and whispering like two freakin’ teens. Svetlana takes the kitten from me and kisses it on the top of its head, crooning something in Russian. Josh says a goodbye and gets in his car parked in front of Catherine’s house.

“What the hell was that gun-waving circus about?” I ask Svetlana, angrily. “Couldn’t you at least give us a heads-up that you carry?”

Svetlana gives me a sideways glance. “I always carry. It’s a… a… wait.” She frowns in concentration. “A professional hazard.” She seems pleased with herself for remembering the correct English phrase.
 

“Oh, great. Do you at least have a permit for this piece?”

“Uhm… no, because I’m not a citizen. I only have the green card. Got it through the Lottery.”

I sigh. Deeply and long. “So if the cops stop you, what would you do?”
 

“Why would they want to look in my purse? I’m not doing anything wrong.” Svetlana opens the door to her car, and we all get in—me in the front and Ali in the back.
 

No, breaking into someone’s house and threatening a person with an illegal gun is absolutely not wrong. This is all soooo unbelievable, but a headache is starting to build up behind my eyes, so I stop talking. Whatever.
 

The kitty is meowing when Svetlana gives it back to me to hold it while she drives. It tries to jump off my lap, but I hold it firmly. That brings another bout of meows, and I feel the tiny but freakishly sharp claws raking at my thigh. “Argh, stop it.” I examine the damage. There is a hole and a quickly moving run in my delicate stocking.
 

“She’s hungry,” Svetlana comments.
 

“And totally pissed off,” I mutter.
 

“Oh, sorry,” she apologizes, noticing my ruined stocking. “Thank you. Both of you.” She looks at me, and then quickly at Ali.
 

I raise my eyebrows. “You’re welcome, but for what exactly? You could’ve easily managed all this on your own. Especially with that gun of yours.”

Svetlana starts the car and is quiet for a long moment, her eyes fixed on the road. When she finally speaks, her voice is soft, “I don’t have any girlfriends here. No family either. There is only Andrei but… you know, that’s not the same. Catherine, the French woman, pretended to be my friend. But she’s just a thief and a cheat. I always have to watch my back around her. Same with Amelie.”

“Just don’t pull another stunt like the one with your gun, and we can be buddies,” I tell her.
 

“Amen to that, sister,” Ali adds from the back seat. “Where the hell did you get that piece anyway? That Andrei guy?”

“Of course.” Svetlana shrugs. “It’s a good gun. A bit big, but I like it. Easy to use.”
 

“Do you realize it’s illegal to carry concealed without a permit? You can get your ass hauled back to Russia if you get caught with it.” I turn to look at her.
 

She doesn’t say anything.
 

“It probably has the serial number filed off too.” My dad is a retired cop, so while my friends grew up watching Disney Princesses movies, I watched Miami Vice reruns and NYPD Blue. I spent more time at the shooting range with Daddy than baking pink-frosted cupcakes with Mom. The truth is, I know more about guns than I want to admit.
 

Svetlana gives me a sideways glance.

“The bullets are unmarked too, right? Made by some gangsta-wannabe in his trailer home?”

“You know a lot about these things. Watch CSI often?” Svetlana snorts and grins at me.
 

“Yeah, sure.” I laugh. “Actually, my dad is a retired cop.”

She turns her head to me and looks at me sharply.
 

“Relax. I said he’s a
retired
cop.” I sigh. “Listen. It’s none of my business, but maybe you should consider a lifestyle change. Sooner or later you’ll run into trouble.”

“I know,” she says somberly. “But as I told you, Andrei won’t let me go just because I want to. He’s the one who pulls the strings. Soon Andrei will get bored with me and will find another girl. I must wait for the right moment.”

Ali leans forward and gently pats Svetlana’s shoulder. “Just be careful. You seem like a great girl. I would hate to see you get hurt.” Then she glances at me as for confirmation and says, “Maybe you should get together with us and our other girlfriends sometime. But the gun stays home.”

Svetlana’s eyes open wide at Ali’s comment. For a moment I wonder if it’s because she won’t consider not packing. But she smiles, meeting Ali’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “I would love to get together again… in better circumstances of course.”

TEN

“Insanity is relative. It depends on who has who locked in what cage.”

Ray Bradbury

Svetlana drops me off at my place and drives off to take Ali home. I walk into my apartment and close the door behind me.
 

I need a break after all the nonsense of the evening. And I better call Colin right away. As soon as I fish my cell phone out from my purse, the phone in my bedroom rings. Colin usually calls me on my cell phone, but this might be my parents.
 

I pick up and say, “Hello.” I sound tired even to my own ears.
 

“Hello, beautiful.” The voice in the receiver is a strange whisper, and I immediately think it must be a wrong number. Some guy, calling a girlfriend or wife misdialed and is making an ass out of himself.
 

“Wrong number, sorry.”

“No, it’s not a wrong number, Natalie,” he chuckles.

What the hell? Who’s this joker?

“Who’s this?” I’m getting irritated and considering hanging up.
 

“You have such a gorgeous body. And hair. I like reddish blondes. They are rare,” he whispers.
 

A shiver runs along my spine, and my hands start to tremble. This is not funny. “Whatever, asshole.” I hang up, shaking my head in exasperation. But a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach starts building up, and somehow I know this wasn’t a prank. Who was that guy? What’s going on? I run to the front door and double check if it’s locked. Next, I’m checking all the windows and closing the curtains. By now my heart is pounding in my chest, and I breathe heavily.
 

I peak between the curtains onto the street outside. I’m on the third floor with a good view of the area. The street is lit by a row of the old fashion lights. There are people walking outside, which doesn’t surprise me even at this time of night. Capitol Hill is a lively neighborhood that never really sleeps. My eyes dart from one point to another, trying to see anything suspicious when my phone rings again.
 

The sound startles me. My heart bounces on top of my stomach, and I feel like throwing up. This is really freaky. I’m not going to pick up. The answering machine kicks in with my nonchalantly-sounding voice announcing that I’m unavailable and to leave a message. The beep echoes, and I hear the same creep, quietly laughing, and then whispering, “Pick up, pick up. I know you’re there, sweetheart. I just want to hear your sexy voice. Come on, pick up!” He’s not laughing or whispering anymore, but instead he sounds angry.

And I get seriously freaked out. That’s it. I’m disconnecting the phone. I reach behind my nightstand and yank the phone cord from the wall. The recording stops, and I sit heavily on the bed.

Does this have something to do with my crazy escapade tonight? Is this someone from Svetlana’s gang-related crowd? No, that’s not possible. I only gave her my cell phone number. Besides, she wouldn’t give it to anyone. But maybe someone saw us breaking into Catherine’s house? That doesn’t make sense either. How would they even know me? Or maybe it’s Amelie’s doing? Maybe she asked some asshole to scare me shitless. No, that doesn’t add up either. If it was her, those calls would go to Svetlana, not me. Amelie doesn’t even know my name.
 

I need to call Svetlana. And Ali—to see if she’s received some crazy calls too. With trembling hands, I grab my cell phone and, for a moment, consider dialing Colin instead. But he’s on the other side of the country and can’t help me right away. No sense in scaring him and making him jump on the first plane over. I need to figure this out on my own.
 

I’m texting Ali to see if she’s okay. She texts right back, saying that she’s in her bed, falling asleep. She adds,
“Alone.”

Good. At least nobody is stalking her. I decide to wait with telling Ali about the phone creep till tomorrow. I call Svetlana. Maybe she will have a clue.
 

She answers on the first ring, “Natalie?”

“Yes. Listen, are you okay?”

Svetlana takes a moment to comment, “Yes. Why? Something wrong?”

I fill her in about the weird phone calls. When I finish, she says, “I don’t think this has anything to do with Catherine or Amelie. They don’t know you, and they wouldn’t call you or Ali. How would they even have your phone number or know your name? Besides, as crazy as she is, Amelie’s not the kind of person who would get someone to call you like that. I’m sure of it.”

“I’m freaked out. This wasn’t a random phone call. He knew my name. He knows how I look!”

“You’ve never received such phone calls before?” Svetlana asks.
 

“Hell no.”

“Okay, so was there anything weird that maybe happened in the last few days?”

Except befriending a Russian mobster’s girlfriend, breaking into an eclectic
art
collector’s home who stole a jewelry-eating kitten, witnessing cougar-escort sex, and a debt payoff with designer shoes at gun point? No, nothing effin’ else! How do I get myself into such messes? And then it hits me… the creep from the Doors to Hades nightclub!