I shut the door to the burger shop behind me and get into my car. First things first, I need to warn King that a psychopath may use him to get over me; he’ll be thrilled.
Me: Broke up with Jenna.
Serena: YES! You bitches owe me a hundred bucks apiece!
Nikolai: Aren’t you late?
Me: Guys, Nikolai’s old.
Nikolai: Son of a bitch…
Junior: Sorry, I was counting high trying to imagine how old Nikolai really is compared to us.
King: Junior? Counting? Are you sick?
Izzy: He’s in his late ,fifties you dum-dum.
Violet: I like it when Izzy name calls.
Izzy: I was talking to Maksim. He’s the dum-dum. Junior, good for you!!! Math is hard.
Me: Well, that’s rude.
Ash: Why? Why is my phone blowing up??
Annie: Sorry, I was in class. You broke up with her?
Tank: THANK GOD! She was the worst! She asked me how to spell hammer last year in History.
Ash: I’m sorry, rewind, hammer? Why?
Annie: I know, I know… she was filming a TikTok to MC Hammer.
Me: Let’s focus on the fact that all of you were making bets about Jenna. Don’t I get a cut for doing the deed? Oh, PS, I sent her to King. You’re welcome.
King: She would literally eat her young while alive. No bro, I mean you always pick the crazy ones, heyyy Izzy!
Izzy: Don’t be mad if I poison you.
King: And my point is made…
Junior: I’ll pay up. Hey, where we doin’ dinner tonight?
Me: Shit. I forgot it was family dinner, gotta run. I have an appointment and don’t want Nikolai yelling at me. He’s scary when he’s angry.
Ash: When is he not angry?
Nikolai: Go. To. Your. Appointment.
Tank: He just adulted you so hard.
Serena: Maksim’s tonight! Be there or be square, isn’t that what the old ones used to say, Nikolai?
Nikolai: HOW DO I GET OFF THE TEXT THREAD!
King: Google it. Google, by the way, is an internet search engine where you can type in words like, old, what it’s like to survive the nineties, fresh prince of bel air theme song, among other things.
Me: You forgot Kenny G.
King: What a fucking legend. I’m ashamed.
Ash: I meet your Kenny G. and up you Michael Bolton.
Me: Damn. That hurt.
Junior: Limping over here.
Valerian: Just catching up, you know, because I’m not on my phone all day, but why the hell did someone just send me a Michael Bolton GIF?
Serena: Shhhhh, just accept it.
Izzy: And that’s my cue to leave.
Violet: Stay safe, guys.
Kartini: Always, and great text convo to read while being bored out of my mind in Science. Iz HELP!
Izzy: Coming.
I want to respond to that. I want to say so many things, but I sigh and put my phone back in my pocket, fully aware that the text convo will go on for another hour as insults are tossed, and GIFS of nineties singers are shot back and forth.
My smile fades as I pull out into traffic.
I’ll miss them.
I’ll miss the stupid annoying text threads and the way that everyone savagely throws shade, even with someone as scary as Nikolai listening in and reading everything.
I’ll miss a lot about this crazy violent life because, at the end of the day, it’s blood, family, and loyalty amidst an unending war.
And I wouldn’t want it any other way.
Now, I just have to stay away from the violence, blood, guns, basically the first few things you experience when walking into a family dinner, and I’ll be fine.
HAH.
God speed, Maksim.
My smile is back when I make it to the small brown clinic near downtown Chicago; you can see the lake from the premiere real estate Nikolai purchased for his wealthy clients.
It’s a clinic but more research than anything else, and when people have money… well, it’s amazing what doors are opened.
The letters NIKB are etched in metal across the brown brick. I open the door, the bell jingles from inside, and there she sits, good ol’ Phoebe.
“I wore lipstick for you.” She grins.
It’s so bright I want to put on sunglasses. “I can see that.” The international space station can see that. “It looks great.”
“Would look better on you.” She teases; at least, I think she’s teasing. “Aw, you’re not even laughing. I’ve lost my touch. Come along, let’s draw all that blood, and if you don’t cry, I’ll give you a lollipop and a sticker.”
I want to grumble because, again, I hate blood, and getting it drawn seems like the opposite point; it should stay in the body. “Do you have the caramel apple ones?”
“Just went to Target to pick them up.” She opens the white door leading into the sanitized white room. “Now, roll up that sleeve and show me your muscles.”
“You gonna prick me?” I tease.
She laughs and then sobers quickly when she touches the veins on my arm; they’re really blue and pressed tight against my tan skin. “Are you dehydrated?”