Chapter 7 Ember
EMBER
These past few weeks have been brutal. I’m glad to have the night off tonight.
I almost didn’t take it, either. Every night, it seems like there’s one fire or another that I need to put out. I swear, things weren’t this chaotic before Roman Orlov and his band of merry men stepped in.
I have such mixed feelings about him. Sometimes, I hate his guts. Especially when he steps in to solve a problem that I should be handling. And then sometimes, when it’s just us and he’s going over something like zoning laws with me, I’m… I don’t know. Drawn to him.
Yesterday afternoon, he was talking to me while leaning against his desk, his eyes flitting to my legs as I crossed them.
I turn him on, probably just as much as he does me.
And there’s just no part of him to focus on that doesn’t yank me out of that line of thought.
Even the roughness of his hands sends goosebumps up my arms.
I will say that his being there is a boon in some ways.
For one thing, there’s been a significant decrease in drunken troublemakers.
By the time I hear about someone causing problems, several of Roman’s men are already carrying them out and hurling them out the door.
He always seems to have someone milling around the club.
They hide in plain sight like ninjas. I’ve been trying to figure out how to spot them.
The only real way is if any of them have their tattoos showing, which is rare.
They all like to wear expensive suits that cover most of them.
In that vein, I’ve also noticed that he’s particularly protective of me and the other women in the club.
I don’t know. I’ve always heard that of all the things these connected guys are, they aren’t exactly known to be feminists.
I didn’t expect him to keep the assholes from getting out of line around here.
I guess this money I’m paying for ‘security’ is worth it in the end.
It’s working fine for now, but I wonder when the price will eventually go up. One of these days, these thugs are going to make problems that I don’t need.
It’s early and I just finished my morning run.
I’ve stopped in a nearby coffee shop to get my reward of a iced latte and I’m waiting in line.
The ‘normal’ world is starting to feel foreign to me.
I look around myself and see soccer moms on their phones in line, businessmen in their suits, looking at their watches and phones to see how late they’ll be…
All these months, I’ve been working so long in the dark, I forgot what the world is like in the daytime. Calm and unassuming, without muscley tattooed men flanking the door. There won’t be any fights breaking out here today, nor is anybody muttering some insult in Russian at me.
It’s a little boring, I’ll admit, but maybe boring is just the thing I need.
I get my coffee and step out of the shop. As I take a look at my phone to judge the time, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Somebody’s watching me. I glance up and I don’t see anyone right off.
Across the street, people are waiting at the bus stop.
One of them is wearing a baseball cap and scrolling on his phone.
There’s a car a little ways up with two people sitting inside, having a conversation.
A man stands on the corner, waiting for the light to change.
Normal stuff. Too normal, actually.
I’m reminded of something my dad used to say when we used to take our morning walks. If it looks too normal around you, that’s probably because it isn’t normal at all.
I do my best not to stare and keep my head down as I side-eye the people around me. I see eyes turn toward me. The guy at the bus stop just starts talking to himself… or to whoever’s in his ear.
I’m being watched. Shit.
This is what I get for lying down with dogs. The fleas are now out and biting. I and maybe the club are on somebody’s radar. Somebody knows about Roman’s involvement.
I don’t know. Am I jumping to conclusions here?
The guy at the corner crosses to the other side of the street.
With his back to me, I see him glance at the car with the conversing couple.
From here, it’s impossible to tell, but I imagine the couple in the car looking up at the rear view mirror at me.
I put my phone in my pocket and run the possibilities in my mind.
I could be being paranoid. I mean, I did willingly continue to stay on knowing exactly what Roman is.
But it’s not like I’ve been talking to anyone about him.
Well, no one but Natasha, and she has her own problems with the law.
I can’t imagine her running to the police about the sudden Bratva presence at the club.
So if I’m not crazy and I am being watched, then what’s the game? Have they been watching him for some time and somehow, they’ve just found out about the club? It wouldn’t have taken long for them to come across my name if that’s the case.
On my walk back home, I keep my wits about me, listening for footsteps following me, looking for people ‘casually’ standing around on the street, watching for unmarked vans. My runs aren’t very long so I don’t think they would have time to plant any bugs… but then again…
I call Natasha. The phone rings for a while before she finally picks up. She answers blearily. “What’s up?”
“You want to meet for coffee?”
I hear her move around, then, “Em, it’s, like, nine in the morning. You know I’ve got work tonight.”
My mind starts spinning. I don’t know who’s listening, even right now. “You shouldn’t sleep so late anyway,” I say, doing my best to sound as casual as I can. It’s not working. My voice is shaky.
“You okay?” she asks. “You don’t sound right.”
“I’m walking,” I tell her. “We don’t have to meet for coffee, but I do have to stop over. One of the customers left something for you last night, and I forgot to give it to you.”
“Um, okay. I’ll see you in a few, then.”
I hang up, my heart thumping hard in my chest. I don’t think her apartment is tapped, but I have no idea how far into an investigation the police are. I have to assume they know my circle of friends.
I should be careful either way.
Natasha answers the door wearing only a nightshirt. She rubs a hand over her mussed, jet black hair and looks at me with sleep in her eyes. “Hey,” she says.
“Hey.”
She steps aside and lets me in. I immediately start looking around her apartment, my mind scanning possible places that they might think to hide a listening device.
There are too many places. Under the lampshade on the end table by the couch, under the coffee table, behind the television on the wall…
“So, which customer was it?” she asks. “I’ll bet it was Gino. He’s been coming in since I started. He’s so sweet.”
“Mm-hmm.” I nod. I spot her balcony. “Would you mind if I showed you out on the balcony?”
I widen my eyes, hoping she reads my face to see that something is, indeed, off. She pauses and says, “I guess? Are you sure you’re…?”
“Great.” I take her by the hand and we walk to the sliding doors. Once we’re on the other side, I slide the doors closed.
“Hey, you could have at least waited for me to get my robe. It’s cold out here.” She shivers and rubs her arms.
“I think I’m being watched.”
She stares for a second, processing what I’ve just said. “What?”
“I just went for a run and then coffee and I think there were cops watching me. I think I’m under surveillance.”
She gives me a skeptical look. “Em, why would the police be watching you? You haven’t done anything.”
“I’ve let a Bratva boss set up camp in the club,” I hiss. “Somehow, somebody got wind of it and snitched and now—”
“Wait, slow down. Setting up surveillance is a big deal. Didn’t you used to say that you had to get a warrant and all that just to do all that?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean that someone hasn’t done it.” I look around the balcony. We’re alone, three stories up. The other balconies nearby are empty. It’s just us two in the cool air of the morning. And yet, I still feel like we’re being watched.
“Is that why we’re out here in the cold?” she asks. “I mean, nobody’s bugged my place if you that’s what you’re thinking.”
“You don’t know that, Tash. You’re out all night on the weekends. Plenty of time and opportunity to put bugs all over the place.”
“Okay, you’re starting to sound a little paranoid, Em.”
I sigh and lean against the banister. “I know how crazy I sound… but is it really all that nuts to think that somebody’s watching me?
Or you? Or anyone associated with the club?
There are real, live Russian Mafia guys around us all the time.
If nobody’s watching right now and all this really is just paranoia, it’s only that for now.
Eventually, somebody’s going to show up looking for Roman or some other member of his gang. ”
She sighs and stands next to me against the railing. “Wouldn’t they have raided us by now? I mean—”
“They probably don’t have anything. Yet. It’s only a matter of time, though.” I shake my head. The damned inevitability of this arrangement has come way too fucking fast for me. “I’m gonna have to leave. God, it hasn’t even been a full month.”
“Hey, hold on. I thought we agreed that it’s better that you stayed. Remember the whole arson thing?”
“I don’t want to leave,” I say a little too loudly, “but if the cops are looking into me or the club, then what other choice do I have?”
“Okay, Em. Let’s slow this down. You haven’t done anything. You’ve been running the club legitimately across the board, right? They can’t put you in jail for being next to a known criminal.”
“They can if they think that the money we’re making is going toward something illegal. I’m supposed to give Roman part of the take every month. What if the money from that went toward somebody getting robbed or killed? They could bring me in just for being associated with him.”
She regards me, biting her bottom lip. “What about the rest of us? I mean, we work for him. We’re making the money that you give him.”
“None of you hand the money over to him directly like I do.” I cover my face and moan into my hands in despair. “I am so fucked.”
We stand in silence for a long few minutes. I hope I’m being paranoid. But even if I am this time, what happens on the day that they actually do start following me?
“I’m going to quit,” I say finally. “It’s just too risky. I was a fool to think it would be otherwise.”
I step around her to go for the door and she stops me with a hand on my arm. “Wait, you’re not doing it now, are you?”
“I am,” I tell her. “Roman’s there early sometimes, so I’m going to go up to the office and talk to him if he’s there. And if he’s not, I’ll wait for him and talk to him then.”
She nods. “He’s going to be pissed.”
“He’ll get over it. See you later.”
I leave the apartment. On my way down to the street, all I can think about is whether or not any of this was ever worth it.