Chapter 8

8

Gage

I ’m driving home from the club when Claudia calls.

If it were anyone else, literally anyone, I wouldn’t answer.

“Gagey,” she says in her breathless Jacqueline Kennedy voice. “How are you?”

If she were anyone else, literally anyone, I would hang up as soon as I heard Gagey .

“Claudia, why are you calling me at”—I check the clock—“ten past three in the morning?”

“Is it…? Oh shit, Gagey.” She sounds like she’s going to cry. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, not at all. No need to apologize.”

“Okay, good.” Now she sounds thrilled. Either she’s high, or her meds need adjusting.

It’s probably both and she’s self-medicating.

I pull into my building’s parking garage and find my spot, but I leave the car running so Claudia’s voice continues to sound through the car speakers.

“I was thinking,” she says, “that we should get together.”

“Sure. The usual place, dinner tomorrow?”

“No, I’m still in LA. And I didn’t mean just us.”

A heavy sensation fills my gut. “Claudia…”

“Not the entire crew,” she rushes to say, “just Javi and Todd and Jessie and Nic.”

I don’t know what to say, so I let my silence speak for itself.

“It’ll be like old times,” she says. “We used to have so much fun, right, Gage? The six of us, the underdogs, the Shinies.”

That had been our nickname among all our other coworkers. The Shinies. We were the fresh meat and we shone the brightest…but only because we had so much more to prove.

“Pleeeeeease,” Claudia says.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Ugh. We both know ‘I’ll think about it’ means no.”

“Then, no.”

“Come onnnnn , Gagey. We can all catch up, like a reunion of sorts.”

“Claudia, the only Shiny I want to catch up with is you. The others…”

My heart clenches. The six of us were best friends. Even when we competed with each other, there was a solid friendship behind the backstabbing.

Changing tack, I say, “You’re all I need. If you end up doing a thing with the others, give them my best.”

Except Javi and Nic. They can go to hell. But I don’t say it out loud.

“Gage Hawthorne Jannik,” she says, all breathy softness gone. “If you don’t get your ass to LA?—”

“Goodnight, Claudia. Get some rest.”

“Gage—”

“Goodnight.” I end the call, feeling like a terrible friend.

She doesn’t call me back. She knows I’m a lost cause.

Leah

“There’s my car.” I point to my tiny sedan in the apartment complex parking lot.

Dmitri slows his Mustang. So far today, we’ve unpacked my important boxes, taken the borrowed truck back to Dmitri’s friend’s place (I got to drive Dmitri’s Mustang—yay!), and now we’re getting my car.

“What’s that on the hood?” Dmitri asks. “Did that motherfucker vandalize your car?”

“No way.” I lean forward in my seat. It looks like handwriting on the driver’s side of the hood. “He wouldn’t…would he?”

Dmitri hesitates. “I never got a good vibe from that guy.”

So what I’m hearing is both Danica and Dmitri didn’t like Mick from the start, but neither of them really tried to stop me from dating him.

Fabulous.

But I can’t blame them for my poor taste in guys, only myself.

Dmitri isn’t poor taste in guys , a little voice in the back of my head whispers.

Mentally shushing the voice, I wait for Dmitri to pull up next to my car. I hop out, thinking Dmitri will drive off. Instead, he sets his parking brake and gets out, too.

I’m still a few feet away when I start to make out the words on the hood.

You’re going to pay, one way or another .

It’s written in marker.

I rub at one of the letters with my thumb, but the ink doesn’t smear or budge at all. “Fuck, is this from a paint pen?”

“What an asshole. I’m sure some of my grandfather’s friends would have something to say about this,” Dmitri says.

“Your grandfather—no. The last thing we need is the Russian mafia getting involved in my break-up.”

“They aren’t part of a crime ring.” Dmitri laughs. “They’re just badasses.”

That’s what he thinks. Danica and I have all kinds of wild, melodramatic theories about their grandfather’s friends. Childish and romantic notions, some of them, especially after we found old photos of them looking young and tough.

I’ll never forget Danica’s reaction when we found a photo of four of them standing in front of a jazz club. We were twelve. She’d jabbed her thumb at one and asked Dmitri, “Who’s that hottie?”

Dmitri’s belly laugh had filled Danica’s room. “That’s Granddad.”

Danica threw the photo album like it was on fire. That night while Dmitri was at a party, she and I sneaked into his room and filled his backpack with plastic building blocks.

Dmitri raps his knuckles on my car’s hood, bringing me back to the present.

“This is a pretty douchey move on Mick’s part.” I pry my phone from my bag. “And I’m going to tell him so.”

Dmitri’s hand shoots out and he blocks my fingers from tapping my screen. “Don’t engage with him. We’re going to the police station to file a report for this harassment.”

“ Psh , they aren’t going to care.”

“Leah, this is a threat. We need to document it.”

I’m tempted to blow off his concern. Not because I think he’s wrong, but because I wish he was wrong.

But then I remember how empty Mick’s eyes had looked. Like a frozen pond—cutting and dangerous.

“Yeah, fine, I’ll go to the station.” I tug my phone out of his reach to pull up the navigation app. “I don’t even know where it is.”

“I do,” he says. “You can follow me.”

“You’re going, too? You don’t have to do that.” There he goes again, being needlessly kind. Protective.

“You can’t seriously think I’d leave you to do this alone, do you? Fuck, Leah, we’re friends, aren’t we?”

Friends. Of course. Friends who fucked around. We should be putting distance between us, not going on adventures to the police station.

But I can’t deny I’m grateful for his help.

SEPD is surprisingly helpful. They even take photos of my car to add to their report, which is more than I expected them to do. I give them Mick’s name and phone number. They say they’ll send someone to talk to him.

By the time we’re finished, I only have fifteen minutes to get to the public library for my first tutoring session of the afternoon. Dmitri waits until I’m safely in my car before getting into his. He waves through the open window, his dirty blond hair spilling over his forehead and giving him a bad-boy look.

Nice try, hair. He’s a good guy.

Maybe too good.

Dmitri

I consider blowing off everything and following Leah around all day, but I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t like that.

Also, it’s my little cousin’s sixteenth birthday and my parents and sister would kill me if I missed the dinner. At least it’s at my aunts’ house in San Esteban. I won’t have to travel all the way to and from Fair Heights before starting work at ten p.m.

The family dinner is a nice splash of normalcy after the surreal past four days. My aunt Milana and her wife, Sylvia, live on the far side of Old Thirty-Three, pretty close to my grandfather. Their craftsman home is always filled with light and laughter that bounces off its carefully angled eaves.

Danica and I arrive at the same time, and Aunt Milana pulls us into a vanilla-scented hug. “Babies,” she murmurs. “You’re all grown up but you’re still our babies. Come in so we can fatten you up.”

The food is amazing. The feast is spread over a long, family table that has benches instead of chairs. Rachel wanted Japanese, so her moms had it catered. But Patrick and Granddad would’ve thrown a fit if Milana didn’t also make pelmeni, so we have chicken-filled dumplings as well.

I avoid Danica, brushing off her questions of how well Leah is settling in at my place.

And as usual, I avoid my grandfather. He doesn’t push the issue, but he does grab me in a hug and say, “I miss you, boy.”

I hug him back. I don’t repeat the sentiment. Some wounds go too deep, and what I saw, what I heard, can’t be erased from my mind. Blood-soaked concrete, bruised flesh, brass knuckles dull with use. The strangled sounds of someone holding back her sobs .

I shake the memories away, but they’ll return again. They always do.

As usual, my mom looks confused at the lack of closeness between Granddad and me. I’ll never ask how much she knows about his business. It’s better if I pretend she knows nothing.

Rachel, my cousin, seems happy with the gift card I picked up from her favorite bookstore. I spend some time catching up with Patrick, my other cousin. It’s all around a wholesome evening, even when Patrick and I spend a good hour bickering over details for the jazz club we want to open.

As I’m leaving, Danica stops me. “Dmitri. Stop avoiding me. I know you’re mad at me, so just say it.”

I stare in surprise. “I’m not mad at you.”

“You’ve given me the cold shoulder ever since I voluntold you to take in Leah.”

“I didn’t mean to. Sorry. I’m just busy.” I give her a quick hug. “But I should get going, I have work.”

I don’t have work yet. In fact, I don’t start for another hour. But like all family gatherings, there are dangerous riptides beneath the joyful waves. Best to get away before I’m dragged out to sea.

With an hour to kill before my shift starts at Low Vice, I decide to go in early and soak in the vibes. I sit at the bar while Betty fixes nonalcoholic drinks for our patrons. It’s a Tuesday night and pretty tame. My focus fixes on a trio of people around my age, two guys and the woman sitting between them.

She looks nervous, but that’s no reason to intervene. Besides, the other bouncer, Miles, is great at his job. If anything bad happens, of course I’d step in, but chances are he’d notice it before I do.

The woman’s charm bracelet catches the lights as she twirls her copper-red hair. Each of the guys slides down her dress straps so they can kiss her bare shoulders. She says something I can’t hear, and they stop and talk for a moment. A second later, the guy with light brown skin gets up and walks to the bar.

“What can I do for you?” Betty asks.

“Do you know where we could get a blindfold for our girl?” He gives her an apologetic grin. “I think it would make her more comfortable.”

Betty reaches beneath the bar and pulls out a sleep mask. “On the house.”

“Thanks…” the guy says, trailing off to ask her name.

“Betty,” she says.

“Thanks, Betty. I’m Jase. It’s our first time here.”

“Welcome. Feel free to reserve a room—you can turn the lights off or pull the curtains if anyone in your party is shy.” She smirks. “Unlike that crowd in Room Two.”

Jase thanks her.

I turn around to see what’s happening in Room Two.

Damn. There have to be at least eight people inside. The curtains are wide open and everyone’s fucking.

I see a lot of nudity and fucking in Low Vice. I’m not immune to it by any means, but a lot of the time I can ignore it because it’s part of my job. A guy walking around with his woman impaled on his cock? A man feasting on his Domme’s pussy beneath their table? Another man fastened to the St. Andrew’s cross while his lover gently flogs him? Just another Tuesday night.

But I’m not on the clock right now, and the scene in front of me is pretty fucking spectacular. Three women are together in the foreground, two of them writhing together while the third grinds on one of their faces. My cock twitches at the sight of all that female nudity and sexuality.

Even as I watch that, I keep sneaking peeks over at the trio in the booth—Jase, his friend, and their date. She’s blindfolded now and the guys have eased down the front of her dress, exposing her bra-covered breasts. From the way her lips are parted, I suspect Jase’s friend is fingering her beneath the table. Jase pinches her nipple through her bra and I can hear her soft yelp all the way over here.

“Dmitri!” a voice calls, pulling me from my very pleasant distraction.

I look up, disappointed.

Miles waves me down from the end of the bar. “There’s a girl outside, wants to see you. Leah. Can I send her in? She says she’s been here before.”

“Yeah, send her through.” I get up from my seat to meet her.

From the corner of my eye, I see Betty smiling. About what, I have no clue.

I don’t get to round the corner of the bar before I spot Leah. She’s wearing jeans and a button-up blouse, looking entirely wrong for the club, yet utterly, heartbreakingly gorgeous all the same. She walks toward me, a sheepish expression on her face.

“You can’t get enough of this place, huh?” I say.

“Hey.” Her cheeks turn pink with an adorable blush. “Uh, no. I forgot to get a house key from you.”

“Oh shit, I’m sorry.” I reach for my keys. “What have you been doing since your last tutoring session?”

“I went to a coffee shop, but they finally closed and I hoped I might find you here before your shift.”

“This place is my home away from home.”

She peeks at Room Two before quickly glancing away. The blush on her cheeks darkens. “I can see why.”

It’s not the best look for me to be hanging out here. But she knew I worked here all along and that didn’t stop her from accepting a lot of money to get naked and let me fuck her mouth, so I guess I shouldn’t be too ashamed.

“I had an hour in between Rachel’s birthday and my shift.” I free the house key from the ring.

“It’s okay, you can be a lecherous old man, I won’t tell anyone.” Leah grins and pockets my key. “Just knock when you get home and I’ll wake up to let you in. I’ll be on the couch, after all.”

I want to tell her to take my bed, but we have to have some boundaries.

“Sounds good,” I say. “See you later—I’ll be home around three.”

As she flounces off, looking every inch the sweet little after-school tutor, I spot a shadowy form moving to the side.

When he melts back toward the hallway leading to the offices, light reveals his features. He’s watching Leah—no, he’s watching me watch Leah—and a cryptic, satisfied smile appears.

If Friday night was my first hint, his expression now only clinches my suspicion:

My boss is a supervillain and he wants to have his wicked way with my little sister’s best friend.