Lev: a Shot Callers novel (34 page)

Chapter Forty-Four
Mina

I sat on the sofa, my legs curled up under me, sipping my coffee while watching Lidi dance to one of the many catchy Wiggles songs that was playing on the TV. She put her hands in the air, clapped when prompted, stomped her little chubby feet, and sang along, although I wasn’t really sure what language Lidi thought The Wiggles sang in. It sounded like she was going with Swahili.

Lev walked in, coffee mug in hand, looked at his little girl, and smiled, shaking his head. I grinned, and my shoulders shook in silent laughter. He was in the middle of getting ready for his workout, checking his watch, walking around in sweat pants and no tee, and my gut clenched at the sight of his bare torso.

Those broad shoulders just did it for me. And when we had our time alone, I held onto them, hanging on for the ride like nobody’s business.

The faint red mark on the left shoulder had me flushing hard. I might have used that shoulder to ground me after my orgasm by biting into it and clutching at him, my nails embedded in his upper arms as I moaned through my release.

The front door opened quietly and Sasha let himself in, still looking sleep-mussed in his blue jeans and black tee, making his way right for the little girl dancing in front of the television. He didn’t bother with hellos. He snatched Lidiya up and she squealed excitedly, “Asha, putta down. Putta
down
.”

His voice croaky, he told her, “Ada made pancakes. You want pancakes, princess?” She stopped fighting and cinched her arms around his neck. He cocked her high on his hip and, with a jerk of his chin, strode out the door.

This happened more often that not. I was wrong when I suggested that Sasha and Nastasia fighting for Lidiya’s attention was just a phase. Truth was, they treated Lidi as if she was the daughter neither had, and they loved her to pieces.

Lev checked his watch again, and I knew it was time for him to go. As soon as we woke, I made him his tasteless oatmeal and he ate it in silence. I mean, how else would you eat oatmeal that possibly tasted like cardboard? There were no ‘mmmm’s and ‘yum’s to be had. Let’s be honest. It tasted like trash. I wasn’t sure how he could stomach it.

Correction. I’d eaten trash that tasted better than unsweetened oatmeal.

Blech
.

He came forward, his eyes soft, and towered his large body over me, reaching down to grip my chin as he planted warm, gentle kisses to my lips. “I have to go.”

He went to move back, but I snagged him, my fingers dipping into the waist of his pants. “You can play hooky. We can go back to bed and play patty cake.” I bit the inside of my cheek. “We’ve got at least half an hour before Sasha brings Lidi home.”

“But I always work out between ten and twelve.”

I nodded. “I know. But one day off won’t kill you, right?”

He looked confused. “But I always work out between ten and twelve.”

My eyes rolled a little, but I straightened quickly with a smile. “I know, but—”

He cut me off, his voice quiet, anxious almost. “I always work out between ten and twelve.”

This was one of those moments. One of those moments where your head tells you not to push, but you’re not sure if you hold back. I came to realize rather quickly that messing with Lev’s routine was a big no-no. Nothing made my man more irritated than someone screwing with his schedule.

I understood the underlining issues. He craved a semblance of normal in a world where he felt different. His childhood had done things to him that made him the way he was today.

Did that frustrate me? At times, yes.

Lev could not be
fixed
. And I didn’t want to repair the broken part of him. He was perfectly imperfect, and I was his in heart and soul.

More importantly, he was mine. And that was a big deal. Lev did not give himself to people. They merely borrowed his time. And here I was, his attention given fully to a person who probably didn’t deserve it. I was grateful though, and I often reminded myself that he had compromised a lot of himself for me and I needed to do the same.

Releasing the elastic at his pants, I reached up to finger the swinging anchor pendant he had bought me and I smiled gently, knowing I’d have to pick my battles. “Okay, sweetie. Have fun.”

His shoulders slumped in the immense relief I imagined he felt at my quick out. His hands came up and he laid them on my cheeks in gratitude. When his lips descended, I found myself leaned up, into him, needing his lips on me. He kissed me softly once, twice, three times, then whispered against my lips, “I love you, Mina.”

It was the first time he had said the words. I
felt
his love, but hearing the words…wow. It was breathtaking. I’d come to realize the saying was true. Patience was a virtue.

I kissed him again. And again. And before I could drag him down onto the sofa with me, I pushed him away gently. “Go. Now. Or I’ll tackle you to the ground.”

His eyes smiled and he chuckled lightly. He threw me a wink before he left, and I threw myself back on the couch and blew out a long breath. “Have mercy.”

My man was a serious case of sexy.

The front door opened again, and just as my excitement flared at the thought of Lev disregarding his routine and spending the morning in bed with me, Nas stuck her head through the crack and called out, “Pancakes at Sasha’s. Move your ass,
kukla
. I’m starved.”

I rose of the sofa with a sigh. “Yeah, yeah. I’m coming.”

I’d rather have been doing a different type of
coming,
but pancakes were still pretty awesome.

Nas and I walked side-by-side, taking in the morning sun. I couldn’t help but ask, “Where’s Vik?”

Nas slipped on her giant sunglasses and shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not like we spend every waking moment with each other.”

I frowned. “Uh, yeah you do.”

She scoffed. “No. We don’t.”

It sounded like there was trouble in paradise.

We walked on a while, and she asked quietly, “If Lev wasn’t committed to you, but you loved him, what would you do?”

My haunches rose. “I would kindly tell him to fuck a duck.” She sighed softly and I stopped in my tracks. “What’s going on, Nas? What happened?”

She paused a moment before she threw her arms up and rushed out, “I don’t know. You and Lev are getting married.” I threw her a look that said ‘yeah, so?’ and she shook her head gently. “I want that. And I’m not going to get that with Vik.”

My brow furrowed. “Who said? He loves you, Nas. Anyone can see it. He
loves
you.”

Her lip trembled. “No. He doesn’t.” She took in a deep breath and let out a long exhale. “He sleeps around, you know.” My face must have conveyed that I did not know this, because her eyes widened and she nodded. “Yeah. And then he comes to me at two, sometimes three in the morning, and sleeps in my bed. Because I let him.” She let out a humorless laugh. “He doesn’t love me, Mina. He loves that I’m a willing booty call, that I’m a sure thing. That’s all I’ll ever be to him.” Her eyes watered and she whispered a broken, “I can’t do it anymore. It hurts too much.”

“Okay, so he has commitment issues,” I started, but she shook her head.

“Don’t make excuses for him, Mina. Please,” she begged then pleaded, “I need you on my side for this one. I need a friend who gets it. Okay?”

She sounded beaten and desperate. I found myself offering her what she needed. “Okay, Nas,” I told her. “I get it.”

Her face dejected, she nodded lightly. “Thanks, shorty.”

I smiled. “Anytime.” Then I hooked my arm through hers and pulled her along. “C’mon. It’s too early for this crap. I need pancakes.”

We arrived at Sasha’s not a minute later and murdered those freaking pancakes.

Opening night arrived quicker than any of us expected, and I glanced around the room, taking in the new sights and familiarizing myself with the new layout. Everything was different. It was exciting.

Birdie helped the girls prepare, giving last-minute instruction and helping with their costumes, hair, and makeup. I was a little surprised when Sasha instructed Nas, Anika, and me to change when we got there. Apparently, it had been decided that bar staff would dress like the dancers, but at a subdued level. When I alerted Sasha to the fact that heels and I were not friends, he told me Birdie had taken care of it. I was pleasantly surprised by the low-heeled peep-toes she got for me.

We changed into our new uniforms that consisted of thigh-high fishnets, garters, black and red corset-busted one-pieces, and frilled micro skirts. One of the girls lent me a long pair of satin, fingerless gloves, and they were just gorgeous. I thought it would feel weird. It didn’t. It felt sexy. I felt sexy, and I was dying to see what Lev thought.

Once dressed, Anika, Nas, and I made our way out of the stage area, only to be howled and wolf-whistled at. I covered my face with my hands, blushing furiously, but laughing hard. Before I even had time to recover, I felt a warm, hard body crash into mine. I wrapped my arms around him with an
oomph
and blinked up at him. “Lev? What’s wrong, sweetie?”

He glared down at my pushed-up breasts. “What the hell are you
wearing
?”

A smile formed. “Didn’t you get the memo?” I waved my arm back to Anika and Nas. “These are the new bar uniforms.”

He shook his head profusely and made small grunting noises that said ‘no’ then a growl escaped him that said ‘oh,
hell
no’.

I placed a hand over his shirt-covered taut stomach and reasoned with him. “This is all part and parcel of changing things up. We want the experience to be genuine. Do you understand?”

His jaw tight, he growled out, “I don’t like this.” He snuffled an annoyed, “Everyone can see your goodies.”

I grinned up at him. “And only you get to unwrap me later.” I went up on my tiptoes to nip his chin. “Isn’t that just wicked?”

I heard the girls walk away and I was glad for it. When Lev reached down to palm my ass through my new costume, he took my earlobe into his mouth and sucked then whispered into my ear, “You’re naughty. And naughty girls get punished.”

My eyes rolled back at the feeling of his tongue on my lobe, but when it registered what he just said, I pulled back, wide-eyed. “Punished how?”

Oh, God, my voice was hoarse. Like, pack-a-day-smoker hoarse.

His lip twitched. “What am I going to do with you, mouse?”

“I have a few ideas,” I muttered as my eyes hooded and I pressed my lips to his, loving the way his tongue dipped in to stroke mine.

And then he was gone. Nas, rolling her eyes, pulled me away and called out, “Geez. Break it up. We’ve got shit to do. You can eye-fuck each other from across the floor,
capisce
?”

I took my place at the bar. The deejay Sasha had hired played soft RnB throughout the club until things got started. Sasha made his way into the bar, smirking to himself, and came straight for me. He looked excited when he stated, “The line is already three blocks down.” He chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “Three fucking blocks down.” He pointed a finger at me, smiling as he inclined his head, and then walked away.

I wasn’t sure what that meant.

Sasha was weird.

Half an hour later, and we all took our places, the door opened, and the club began to fill. Once we reached capacity, the door closed once more, and Nas, Anika, and I were run off our feet with flyers for free drinks on entry. We no longer served people at tables or booths. If you wanted a drink, you needed to come to us.

The lights dimmed. The deejay turned down the music, and then he spoke, “Good evening, ladies and gentleman, and welcome to the grand opening of Bleeding Hearts Burlesque.”

The crowd cheered, and I was surprised at the amount of women in the crowd. The deejay waited for the cheer to die down before he went on, “We hope you enjoy what we have to offer. Our girls are dying to meet you.”

The spotlights beamed front and center, and we waited with bated breath.

The deejay’s voice deepened huskily as he announced, “Ladies and gents, I give you…” He paused for effect. The curtains began to open. “…The Diamond Dozen!”

The twelve girls on stage looked like dolls sitting on wooden chairs. Each dressed in a different color of the same costume, the same costume the bar girls were wearing. The bass boomed as The Weeknd’s “The Hills” came to life. It was a slow, sexy song that allowed the girls to show off their moves. It was a song about a torrid affair a woman was having with an addict. The girls moved in sync, working with the chair, gyrating against them, and wolf whistles came from all over.

I saw women watch them, mesmerized, and men gaze adoringly at our girls. When Birdie hired the three new girls only days ago, I wondered if they would be ready in time, but I was proven wrong, and gladly at that.

As the song ended, the girls fell to the floor, faces cast, eyes open, like dolls that had been hypnotized into living by the music and falling as it ended.