Chapter Forty-Two
Maro n
I slip into New York High through a discreet side entrance and scan the room for Mindy.
The stage is empty. The music has ended, except for the light jazz coming through the speakers. I order a whiskey and slide into a booth with a view of the stage, but hidden from sight. I pull out my phone and fire a message to Kevin to meet me at my booth. Two minutes later, the man walks up to me with a jovial smile on his face and a tray in his hands.
"Mr. Korolev," Kevin greets me as he sets down the tray with my whiskey and some ice. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Where is she?" I ask, ignoring the formalities.
"Mindy? She'll be back on stage in five minutes," Kevin responds calmly. "The audience wanted a few extra songs. She’s just having a short break." He gives me a knowing half-smile. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
I shake my head and wave him off. He told me all I needed to know.
"Then, enjoy your evening, sir.” Kevin nods and stands up, understanding it’s time for him to leave me alone.
I murmur a ‘thank you’ as he leaves, my fingers tapping impatiently on the table. The minutes that pass by feel like hours as I wait for Mindy to make her entrance. The stage is lit up like a goddamn target, a blinding spotlight in the dim underworld of the bar.
And then, she appears.
Mindy Williams, the woman of my dreams, strides onto the stage in a skin-tight gold dress that clings to her every curve, accentuating her stunning figure. She looks like she’s stepped straight out of a dream - voluptuous curves, an hourglass figure, and an irresistibly ample bosom. Her body exudes raw sensuality, drawing me in like a moth to a flame. She’s a living masterpiece, a fucking work of art.
Her long, golden hair cascades down her back like a pristine waterfall, caught in the glimmer of the stage lights. Her flawless skin shimmers under the spotlight, begging to be touched.
I realize she's wearing one of the dresses I bought for her. The recognition sends a conflicting wave of warmth and pain through my ice-cold heart. It's a bittersweet reminder of what we had, what we could have, and what might be lost.
As she approaches the microphone, her full lips curve into a smile. But I notice a hint of sorrow, a flicker of pain behind her professional style. I'm sure I’m the only one who can see it.
She's oblivious to my presence, adding to the thrill of this moment.
When she begins to sing, I almost lose my goddamn mind. Her voice is like a potent drug, pulling me straight into a trap. My fingers grip the table, battling against my primal urges. All I want is to claim her right there on that stage, mark her as my own in front of everyone. She belongs to me and no one else.
"Take it off, baby!" a man shouts, his words slurred.
"Come on hot stuff, lose that gear!" another follows, pounding his fist on the table.
"Give us a taste of those perky tits!" a particularly bold one declares. His buddies erupt into raucous laughter.
"Come and sit on my lap, sweetheart!" another drunkard suggests, his lecherous grin making my blood boil.
The catcalls and whistles continue. It’s a cacophony of drunken male lust that fills the bar. I feel my jaw clench and my teeth grind together as I fight the urge to silence them all with my fists.
She's fucking mine.
No one else gets a hand on her except me.
"I bet you’re a wild fuck!" another drunk bastard shouts.
That fucking does it for me. I'm on my feet before I even realize what I'm doing. I march towards the stage like a man on a mission, my body moving of its own accord.
But before I can move out of the shadows and reach Mindy, Kevin appears at my side from fucking nowhere and puts a hand on my arm. "Mr. Korolev, please," he murmurs. "Please ignore them. They're just another pack of drunk assholes. The louder they bark, the less they bite. Mindy’s set is almost over, please don’t make a scene." He’s practically begging me.
I shake him off, my eyes never leaving Mindy. Of course, fucking Kevin’s right. I can't lose control, not here, not now. I remind myself of my previous resolve that barging in here like a fucking caveman and causing a scene won’t lead to any good. If anything, it would lead to the opposite with Mindy. She’d probably dump my ass all over again and I could go back to wallow in my misery, desperately jerking off to her memory.
Blyad.
I force myself to unclench my fists and retreat back to my booth.
"One more whiskey," I tell Kevin before sinking back into my seat. My body is buzzing with pent-up energy. I close my eyes and breathe, leaning back on the soft leather of the chair. I only open my eyes when I hear Kevin placing another glass in front of me. Downing the drink, I close my eyes once more and let Mindy's smooth voice wash over me. The lyrics resonate deeply within me.
"In the stillness of the night, I find your memory,
A whisper in the dark, you're still a part of me."
As she reaches the chorus, her voice falters. I open my eyes, and even from a distance, through the haze of thick cigarette smoke and the glare of the stage lights, I can see her eyes gleaming.
She's crying? There are tears in her eyes, smearing her makeup and leaving salty trails on her cheeks.
But her voice quickly recovers and she continues her performance. But if anything, her emotions add a raw and haunting quality to her voice. Somehow, I’m sure I'm the only one who sees those tears. I look around me, making sure I'm as invisible as I can be, sitting in this booth, far from the leering crowd I used to be part of.
I lean back and do something I've never done before.
I allow myself to feel .
It’s foreign and uncomfortable. An alien sensation. But as Mindy's voice wraps around me like a silky ribbon, it happens on its own. All I have to do is force myself out of my own way and just allow it. So, I do. I allow myself to feel everything I've been suppressing for so damn long. It's a whole new world to me. But the floodgates open and all my pent-up emotions come rushing out in a torrent of pain, longing, and regret.
The whisky helps. Being fucking hungover also helps. I allow myself to feel the deep sadness about my mother's condition. The constant grief over losing my daughter. And the mix of jealousy, sometimes hatred, and concern about Maurice.
I welcome the pure joy of seeing Mindy, and the deep sensation I feel for her as it enmeshes my whole being. The never-ending desire coming from a part of me I’ve been suppressing for too damn long.
Maybe this is love. An all-consuming, exhilarating, and sometimes terrifying love. The type of I always thought of as some bullshit for storybooks... until this woman, Mindy Williams, came into my life and turned everything on its head. The realization blazes within me like a wildfire, but so does the cold dread of losing her for good.
“The stars we used to chase, they don’t shine as bright,
The dreams we shared are gone, lost in an endless night.
I search for you in every crowd, but you’re not there,
A love that once was whole, now beyond repair.”
Her tears are now flowing freely. She’s not even trying to hold them back anymore. Why is she crying on that stage, not giving a damn about the drunken fucktards in the audience? What the hell happened to her? Did someone hurt her?
I grip the armrest of my seat and my heart thunders as something dawns on me: she’s singing about us.
Unless of course…
Unless of course, she isn’t. What if…
What if she’s singing about Maurice?
Is she crying over my loser brother?
Like a bullet piercing through steel, a surge of possessiveness emerges in me once again. The cozy little coffee date, the way they held each other's hands... It makes me want to explode with jealousy.
I feel my fists clench at my sides, my blood boiling with my rage threatening to spill over. I want to lash out again, to break something, to make someone pay for the pain that's tearing me apart inside.
My mind is unraveling, like a thread being pulled from a tapestry. First, Maurice tells me that he and Mindy have split. Then, he claims that she wants him back. Then, he tells me that they’re back together. And then, I get a bunch of doctored photos and a video of her sitting in a café with my brother... Who the fuck sent those anyway? Is someone trying to fuck with me? Did one of my enemies get wind of my obsession with Mindy? Is my mind playing tricks on me?
I'm lost in this tangled web of lies. I don't know what to think or feel. I’m not good at that shit. All I know is that I’m completely fucked in the head when it comes to this woman. And that I’m going to lose my mind if I don’t find out the truth and have her back with me.
Fuck my paranoia.
I have to confront this thing, head-on.