I was also confident that she could do the performance this evening. Yesterday had been a traumatic experience for her, but she argued that dancing was one of the things that freed her mind of the terror.
“What is the other thing?” I’d asked.
She blushed. “You’re the next.”
“My cock or me?”
She rolled her eyes. “Both, Misha.”
“And am I correct to say that this is now your cock?”
“That’s right and don’t you forget it.”
“I won’t. Just make sure you know whose pussy that is.”
“Oh, God, Misha.” She laughed. “I think everybody in this theater knows whose pussy this is. I screamed it over and over.”
I winked. “We will make sure you scream it louder next time.”
By the time, I left I was confident that Ava and I were in a good place. I’d made the right move by coming to her, pleading my case, and fucking her brains out.
The roses certainly helped too.
Checking my watch, I got off the elevator for my condo’s floor.
My guards followed.
I had just enough time to get dressed, order more roses for her performance, grab Mrs. Jones, and head back. I wasn’t sure, if Maxwell would come. I’d left Valentina and him arguing earlier today. She hadn’t been happy with him telling me her secret.
I’ll have to make that up to Maxwell. I’m sure I violated the homey code. If there is one.
My guard opened the door.
Entering my condo, I dug my hand into my pocket to get my phone and stopped in horror at the sight before me.
Maxwell sat on the couch, smoking a joint with one hand and holding an ice pack on his right eye.
But that wasn’t what had me frozen in horror.
On the couch, Rolan sat next to him. Head cleanly shaven. His gray goatee shaped up. He looked even bigger. He’d probably maxed up his gym routine due to chasing after so many young women. Those biceps stretched in the hot pink dress shirt while his big thighs pushed against his gray pants.
Unlike the rest of us, he wore a suit and couldn’t blend in. It was clear he was a gangster of some sorts. My father had tattooed roses around Rolan’s throat after his mother Roza had died. More tattoos covered his hands—holy crosses and skulls.
Both men turned from the television and stared at me.
What. The. Fuck?
Rolan waved. “Mikhail, glad you could finally make it.”
Are you fucking serious?
I held my hands out. “What are you doing here?”
Rolan looked at Maxwell as he gestured at me. “You see how he talks to me? Raised him like my own son and this is the welcome.”
Maxwell shook his head. “And he doesn’t know how to keep secrets either.”
Rolan sucked his teeth. “I taught him better.”
“He forgot.” Maxwell moved the ice pack and pointed at the new black eye on his face. “Thanks for this by the way, Misha.”
Flabbergasted, I stood in the doorway and dropped my hands. “Valentina did that?”
“Yes. Valentina did that. Thank God your men pulled her off me. I would’ve hit her, but she’s a chick—”
“And the lion’s sister,” Rolan added.
Maxwell nodded. “That too.”
“Not that it matters.” Rolan rose from the couch. “Valentina punches like a man. A very big, angry man.”
“Don’t I know it.” Maxwell covered his eye with a bag of ice. “I’m just glad no children’s books were around.”
I stepped inside. “Batya, what. . .?”
“It was clear you were not coming to Prague.” Rolan shook his head. “So, I came to you.”
“I was coming.”
“When?” Rolan leaned his head to the side. “In a few months? Maybe next year? When exactly were you going to grace us with your presence?”
Raking my fingers through my hair, I gave up with the excuses and headed to him. “Jesus. I cannot believe you are here.”
“Of course I came.” Rolan extended his arms. “Get over here.”
When I got to him, he yanked me into a massive bear hug. They called him the Big Bear for a reason. Not just for his size and height. He killed like one, knocking a person out and snapping their head off in one swift swoop.
Hugging me, he patted my back the whole time and wouldn’t let go. “There you go! That is a proper greeting for your batya.”
When he finally released me, I stumbled back.
Raising those gray eyebrows, he sniffed my way. “You smell like pussy, and I do not say that as a metaphor.”
Almost dropping his joint, Maxwell coughed and went into a fit of laughter. “No wonder it took you so long to come back.”
I pointed to the balcony. “Smoke that outside.”
Chuckling to himself, Maxwell rose with the icepack in his hand and headed off.
I looked back at Rolan. “How long are you here?”
“Until you go to Prague.”
“Jesus.”
“Prayer is good. You need it in these times.”
I headed off to the kitchen to grab some vodka. “What is that supposed to mean?”