“Wait. You called the cops?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To help with the bodies.”
Even crazier, how in the hell had he killed three men so fast? I couldn’t have been in the dressing room for that long. Barely five minutes or so, if that. He’d done it swift. Perhaps, he’d gotten help.
But I didn’t hear any gun shots? How did he do it?
He walked next to me. “Ava, talk to me.”
My eyes were still wide with shock. My hands still trembled a little, but not as bad as in the car. I checked my clothes. “I don’t have my keys.”
Misha dug his hand into his pockets, pulled out a set, and opened the door.
He has keys?! Wait. Of course he does. It’s his place. Calm down.
I was being irrational, if one could be rational in this circumstance. I’d never dealt with anything like this before. I wasn’t certain how someone should act.
He held the door open for me.
I stepped through, walked into the living room, and just stood there, hoping he would give me a command. At this moment, I didn’t really know what I should do. For some reason, I kept feeling like Lady Macbeth, wanting to wash my hands although nothing was on them.
Nothing would ever be the same.
Not me.
Not Misha.
“Ava,” Misha whispered.
I turned to him.
Misha came close but didn’t touch me. “Talk to me. . .please.”
“I’m just. . .” I blew out a long breath. “You killed them right?”
Stop asking that? What is wrong with you? He did it. You know he did it.
I paced a long path back and forth. Back and forth. “I don’t know what to do.”
I stopped and looked at him. “Should I do something?”
“No. I have everything under control.”
I went back to pacing. “You’ve done this before? No. Don’t answer that. Well. . .answer that. No. I don’t want to know. Wait. I do.”
“Let me get you some water.” He hurried over to the kitchen.
“I don’t want any water.” I waved my hands. “I’ll just throw it up. My stomach is crazy right now. My head is crazy.” I returned to pacing. “Okay. So what will be my story? I think I need a story or something, when the cops come—”
“They are not going to say anything to you.”
“That’s right because they’re helping you.”
“Yes.”
“So, then what do I do?”
“Sit down, please.”
“Okay.” Nodding, I continued to pace. “I’m going to sit down.”
It took another minute for me to do that.
When I did, Misha left me in the living room.
In my head, I saw the guard carrying the body out of Akiva’s office. I rose and paced again, unable to stop moving.
“Here’s something.”
I jumped and looked behind me.
Misha held out a small glass filled with O’s whiskey and some ice. “Take this. It might help.”
I grabbed it and took two large gulps.
The liquid burned my throat.
Misha’s phone rang. Watching me the whole time, he answered, “Yes?”
Anger covered his face.
I stopped drinking and held the glass in mid-air.
“Okay. I will let her know.”
Me? Is that the theater? No. That couldn’t be. Maybe, it’s grandma.
The door opened. Maxwell, my three guards, and grandma walked in. I turned back to Misha. Grandma looked at my glass and then headed to the kitchen.
“That sounds good.” Misha remained on the phone, put his back to me, and lowered his voice. “And if I find out that you all have gone back to your old practices, then those dead men won’t be the only things being carried out of that theater.”
He hung up.
When he turned around, he shifted his expression to neutral.
“Who was that?” I asked.
“Akiva. He wanted you to know that the theater will be closed today for surprise renovations.” Misha put his phone in his pocket. “He wants to know, if you will be comfortable with dancing tomorrow.”
I blinked. “Nothing else? Like. . .”
“Nothing is going to happen to you, Ava. Trust me on that.”
“And you?”
“I am more protected than anyone in this condo.”
I exhaled and finished the glass.
“Ava, you want some more of this?” Grandma walked into the living room with the bottle of whiskey and her own glass.
“Yes, ma’am.” I usually didn’t drink in front of Grandma, trying to be a dutiful granddaughter. With these circumstance, I imagined we both would be drunk by the end of the night.
“Are you okay, baby?” she asked.
“Yes.” I watched her pour my glass half full and then put whiskey into her own.
“Everything is going to be fine.” Grandma took the glass and bottle with her and sat down.
Maxwell headed to my balcony.
Misha continued to study me. “Do you need anything?”
Answers. Calm. Less dead bodies. Maybe, we can put everything back the way it was.
I took another sip. “No, I’m. . .good.”
“I can order food.”
I shook my head. “I can’t eat right now.”
“Do you want to lay down?”
I drank some more. “Yes. Maybe that’s a good idea.”