Chapter 7 #3
When he sees the I don’t want to talk about your dick look that Bran is giving him, he laughs and says, “I mean I never promise them a commitment. They know it’s a one-time thing going into it. I’ve never once lied about that.”
We’re interrupted when our waitress comes back, and now that I know she’s fucked Dima and probably wants to add Kostya to her list, it’s all kinds of awkward.
It only gets worse when shortly after she leaves, Misha and the others come back with a big group of women.
Ev and I share a look while Dima asks them in Russian, “What the fuck, guys?”
Yuri shrugs and brings over a few more chairs. “They wanted to bring some friends over.”
“You forget how to say no?” Dima asks.
Yuri looks at the woman who’s glued herself to his side and asks, “Why in the hell would I want to do that?”
Three of the women start coming around the table towards our side, and Ev shoots me a look, letting me know he’s really regretting getting talked into this.
Even though he doesn’t have to hide who he is here, my cousin is not the kind of guy who gets sidetracked.
His life right now is becoming a lawyer.
That’s all he cares about, and he won’t set everything aside to fuck some random girl in a bar.
I may not have the same reasons as him, but I have no desire to lay even a single finger on any of these women.
Instead of making room for the girl who steps closer, Ev scoots his chair closer to mine, and I fight a laugh when I see the confused look on her face.
She probably thinks we’re gay, and the fact that I’m not bothering to correct her and letting her think I’m in a relationship with my cousin is proof enough that I’m way too attached to Sitka already.
I contemplate throwing my arm around his shoulder just to mess with him but decide against it because I’ll just end up laughing.
He must sense what I’m thinking because he leans in and says, “I’m letting them draw their own conclusions, but don’t you dare kiss me.”
Before I can laugh, Bran nudges my arm. This is why I hate the fucking clubs.
I owe you, I sign back. This place wasn’t our first choice either.
“Oh my god, is that sign language?”
I turn my head at the over exuberant, screechy voice. It’s coming from the woman who’s taken a seat next to Misha. Her blonde curls are bobbing around her face as she leans across the table. Raising her voice so she’s practically screaming, she looks at Bran and me. “Are you deaf?”
Misha cringes and doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he’s scooting his chair away from her.
Bran and I just stare at her while she lets out a laugh and tries really hard to come across as sexy when in reality she just looks like an idiot.
She grins at her friends and points in our direction, still confused about which one of us is deaf. I’m not about to speak and leave Bran alone in this.
“I want one of them,” she tells the girls who are still sitting around the table.
“One of them?” Dima asks, and if she had a single brain cell in her head, she’d pick up on his angry tone.
“Yeah,” she giggles, “one of the deaf guys. I’ve never been with a deaf guy, but sign language is so sexy.”
Bran may not have been able to lip read every word out of her overly glossed mouth, but he caught enough and when he signs, the movements are hard, each sign showing his barely concealed rage. Get her the fuck out of here before I kill her.
I know he’s telling the truth and that he’s more than capable of making it happen, but his family is already in the process of kicking the girls out of our area, all their earlier appeal gone after what just happened. Not even the promise of sex is going to save them now.
“What? Why are you making us leave?” the brunette who’d been all over Yuri asks.
He doesn’t even spare her a look when he says, “Because your bitch friend just insulted my cousin. Get the fuck out and don’t come back.”
When she hesitates, Dima says, “We’re not asking. We’re telling you to get your asses out of here, and I mean right fucking now.”
“God,” the blonde who started all this shit says. “I wasn’t trying to be offensive or anything.”
“Fuck off,” Misha says.
None of us are interested in her excuses, and after a few more seconds of her huffing and puffing and not getting anywhere, she finally turns on her stilettos and storms off with her friends.
Sorry, Bran, Yuri signs. I didn’t know they’d be such assholes.
You have terrible taste in women, Bran signs back. And very low standards.
Yuri shrugs. True, but technically that girl was into Misha.
Yeah, I wasn’t about to touch that, Misha signs in his own defense. I knew that before she opened her mouth and said that shit. Way too needy for my liking.
The others finish their drinks while I look out over the dance floor, watching the lower level fill up with a steady stream of newcomers.
It reminds me of The Red Room, our club in the city, and if they’re selling drugs out of here like we do at our club, then they’re making a killing.
The music is way too upbeat for me, but the crowd on the dance floor are clearly enjoying it.
The lit-up bar that stretches along one wall is packed with a line of customers that never seems to grow smaller.
As soon as one customer leaves, another is there to take the empty spot.
Even with the bar full, the waitresses are still keeping busy with the tables that fill every available space.
“It’s all profit,” Misha says, watching me watch the club.
“It’s a great set up,” I tell him. “You get a lot of college students?”
He takes another drink before saying, “They’re what keep us in business.”
“Yeah,” Yuri says. “They love to drink and buy pills.” He watches a group of women dancing near the edge of the floor before adding, “Among other things.”
“Careful,” Dima warns from across the table.
Yuri gives him an easygoing grin. “I’m not telling him anything he hasn’t already guessed.”
“Plus, we’re taking them tomorrow,” Misha says. “They’re gonna find out soon enough anyway.”
“Other things?” Ev asks.
Dima raises a brow, looking a bit surprised and not all that happy that Ev is asking questions. He doesn’t know my cousin well enough to know he’s always the one calculating risks and deciding whether or not it could hurt a Melnikov.
It’s Bran who breaks the staring contest by signing, Gambling. We hold races and bet on who will win.
“Dirt bike races?” Ev asks.
“It’s good money,” Dima says.
We’re all still signing while we speak, so Bran sits back and follows along while Dima explains the set up they have. When there’s a race, they post a coded message on one of their fake social media accounts. Word spreads, bets are taken, and the Medvedevs always end up with a lot of money.
“We used to always keep our helmets on, but everyone eventually realized it was us,” Misha says. “If we’d shown our faces from the beginning, they would’ve been too scared to race against us, but with our helmets on, they convinced themselves maybe we weren’t who they feared we were.”
Yuri gives one of his unhinged smiles. “For some reason, people are afraid of us.”
“It’s not like we killed them if they managed to beat us,” Aleks says.
Misha grins. “That’s the only reason they kept racing with us after we stopped wearing our helmets.”
Aleks laughs and says, “We just want to have some fun and make some easy money. This isn’t about anything else.”