You Don't Own Me 2 (The Russian Don 2)

She pulls her hand away quickly. ‘Did I hurt you, lyubov moya?’

I shake my head. ‘No, mama. You’ve never ever hurt me.

Mama presses her lips together and her eyes are so sad I want to wrap her up in cotton wool and hide her in a place no one can ever find her.

‘Come we will play the piano together,’ she chokes out.

Slowly, very slowly, because I am in so much pain, I get out of bed and together we stand. She holds out her hand and I put mine in it. It is hard to take big breaths. We begin to walk out of the room and I see that she is limping.

I stop and look up at her anxiously. ‘Is your leg hurt, mama?’

‘No, lybo moya. I have a lazy leg. It just went to sleep. I feel no pain.’

‘Me too, mama. I feel no pain either.’

We sit at the piano together and mama looks at me. ‘What shall we play?’

‘You choose, mama.’

‘Shall we play something happy?’

‘Yes, let’s.’

‘How about Chopin’s Spring Waltz?’ she suggests brightly.

‘That’s a good idea, mama.’

‘Ready?’

‘Ready.’

We begin to play and music fills the air and enters my body. It is so beautiful tears roll down both our cheeks. This is the only time mama ever cries. We play happy songs and we cry and cry. We are allowed to because the music mama and I make together is so beautiful. So very beautiful. We can escape into it and say to each other what our lips dare not say.

Listen …

Six

Dahlia Fury

I am first to arrive at Jamie’s. Someone is having a birthday party and it is hot, crowded, and very noisy. Fortunately, a couple stand to leave just as we arrive and Noah immediately swoops down on their table even though they are still in the process of getting into their coats. The woman gives us a dirty look, but her man says nothing and avoids any eye contact with Noah.

‘Want me to get you something to drink?’ Noah offers when they are gone and I am seated.

‘Nah, I’ll wait until Stella gets here. Thanks,’ I say with a smile.

‘No problem. I’ll be over there at the bar,’ he says jerking his chin at one corner of the bar.

‘OK,’ I say.

Stella and I love coming here. It’s a bit of a dive but the booze is cheap, the atmosphere is great, it’s close to our apartment, we know the staff, they always play a fantastic selection of songs, and there is a small dance floor at the back that we always dance the night away on.

I am dressed in jeans, a pair of brown boots, and a emerald sweater, but Stella swans in dressed in a stripped black and white mini dress, a short white faux fur jacket, her new Jimmy Choos and her hair cut short and dyed Little Mermaid red. She looks stunning and heads are turning all over the place.

‘Jesus, Stel. Your hair,’ I squeal, standing up to greet her.

She strikes a pose and tosses her head this way and that so I get to see her new hairstyle from all angles.

‘You look like a freaking star,’ I tell her.

‘Don’t I just?’ she mouths, grinning cockily.

‘And what have you done with your face?’ I ask. ‘Your skin is glowing.’

‘Honey, baking soda, and lime juice mask,’ she throws nonchalantly as she air-kisses my cheeks. I watch her put her purse on the table, slide into her seat, and fix me with stern, narrowed eyes. ‘You don’t look so hot though. What’s with you?’

‘Tell you in a minute. First, what are we drinking?’

‘Who’s paying?’

I grin. ‘Not us.’

Her eyes shine. ‘Bubbles have no calories, have they?’ she asks impishly.

‘Absolutely not. They are just round bits of clean air covered with a negligible film of champagne,’ I say virtuously.

‘In that case,’ she says with matching virtuousness, ‘we really should be good and stick to bubbles.’

‘Excellent choice, Miss Spencer. I’ll nip over to the bar and get it, and in the meantime you can go say hello to Noah. He’s over there.’ I nod towards the edge of the bar where Noah is nursing a bottle of beer.

Stella jumps up and practically skips over to him. I watch her throw her arms around his neck like a big kid and wonder what to make of this new fun and full of joie de vivre version of Stella. It is like the girl I met for lunch the other day is a totally different person. Then I suddenly remember that she used to be like this when I first met her, before she started crushing on Zane and going about with a long, depressed face.

Andy, the barman looks surprised when I order champagne. ‘Celebrating?’ he asks.

‘Just treating ourselves,’ I reply.

He finds a bottle at the back of a fridge, plunks it into a narrow plastic bucket, and pushes it and two glasses towards me. I pay him and carrying my loot, I go over to where Noah and Stella are standing. Stella has one hip pushed out provocatively and Noah’s eyes are roaming her body as he talks to her.