18. Nikolai
Nikolai
I think about the kiss as I sit in traffic. My driver doesn’t pepper me with inane questions about my day.
He knows better.
I replay the moment she leaned in. The look in her eyes before she did it. It was different from the way other women look at me.
Women usually want something from me. Access. Money. Protection. They come in every shape and variety, but they have the same quality. It’s all an act. I play along because I want to get laid, but I’m not as naive as they seem to think I am.
There was no acting with Gabby.
That’s what I keep coming back to.
She kissed me because she wanted to. She said so. And then I told her she was paying a debt with her body. Not my finest moment, but I didn’t want her to think she had to whore herself out to me.
I didn’t mean to insult her. I handled it badly. That happens. I’m not good with words, which is why I usually don’t bother with them.
She’s avoiding me. I planned to talk to her before we went home, but when I checked the schedule, I saw she’d picked up another four hours.
She’s saving money so she can move out.
I walk into the foyer of my house and stop.
There is a tyrannosaurus in my entryway. Nearly my height.
It’s staring me in the eye.
I stare back.
I might have miscalculated. Pasha mentioned the lack of toys. Luke likes dinosaurs, so I ordered dinosaurs. Apparently, I should have checked the dimensions.
I find Kylie in the kitchen, picking up puzzles from the small table.
“He’s in the cinema room,” she says before I can ask. “He asked to watch SpongeBob at five. It’s in his schedule. I set him up about ten minutes ago. He’s fine.”
“Good.” I set my keys on the counter. “How was the day?”
“Good overall.” She pauses, and I can tell that “overall” means something different.
“Tell me.”
“We went to the park this afternoon. He did very well. About forty minutes on the swings and the climbing structure.”
“And?”
She looks at me steadily. Kylie is twenty-six. Her father has been one of my security men for years. She grew up knowing what her father does and what it means to work for a man like me. She doesn’t rattle easily. This world isn’t new to her.
“There was a man,” she says. “He was already there when we arrived, sitting on the bench near the east entrance. That’s not unusual. People sit on that bench. But he was still there when we left. He didn’t have a dog or a child with him. He pretended to be interested in his phone.”
I look at her. “Pretended?”
“He was watching us,” she says. “Luke specifically. I moved twice and repositioned. He adjusted both times. Subtle, but I caught it.”
I pull out my phone. “Description.”
“Forties, maybe. Medium build. Black hair. He left maybe two minutes before we did. On foot. I didn’t see a car.”
My instincts sharpen.
“You did the right thing leaving when you did,” I tell her.
She begins stacking the puzzle pieces back into their tray. “Should I tell Miss Collins? It might be nothing. My father has made me paranoid.” She smiles, but we both know paranoia keeps people like us alive.
I look toward the hallway. I hear the faint nautical horn of Luke’s cartoon drifting from the far end of the house.
“No,” I say.
Kylie waits.
“She has enough on her plate,” I say. “I’ll handle it. From now on, don’t take him off the property without clearing it with me first. I’ll put a second body on you when you go out. Plain clothes. You won’t even know he’s there.”
She nods. She knows better than to ask questions I won’t answer.
“You can go home,” I tell her. “I’ll stay with him until his mother gets back.”
She collects her tote bag from the hook near the door. She stops before she leaves and looks at me.
“He’s a good kid,” she says. “Really good. I’m looking forward to working with him. He’s very smart.”
“Yes, he is.”
I pour myself a drink and consider what she told me. Nothing in my world is random.
The man at Gabby’s table today.
The signal she scratched into the felt with two fingers. I saw it before security alerted Joel. I’d been watching her table since she returned from her break.
She’d handled it. I’ll give her that.
Two incidents in one day.
I don’t believe in coincidence.
Joel questioned the man, and his story checked out. He was from New York, in town for a conference at the hotel. He doesn’t match the description Kylie gave. Two different men. No obvious connection.
The man at the park concerns me. Pasha warned me that bringing Gabby and Luke into my world was a risk. I’ll make sure there’s nothing for them to be afraid of.
My phone buzzes. It’s one of the guards at the new casino.
“Sokolov,” I answer.
“I thought you’d want to know. We just had a box truck, no company name or logo, try to make a delivery.”
“What do you mean?”
“Said he had a delivery but didn’t have paperwork. We’re not expecting anything. He said he must have had the wrong address and left.”
“Stay alert,” I tell him.
“Will do.”
I feel the pressure closing in. Too much to be a coincidence. They’re testing me. Looking for a weak spot.
They won’t find it.
I walk down the hallway toward the cinema room. The door is open a few inches. I push it wider and survey the scene.
Luke is on the center couch with his blanket folded across his lap and one of the new plush dinosaurs beside him. He’s watching the screen with the same grave attention he gives everything.
He doesn’t look at me when I walk in.
I move to the couch and sit down on the other side. Not too close.
The cartoon is midway through an episode. SpongeBob is trying to get a boat license. I have no idea what the appeal is. Luke watches it like it holds the secrets of the universe.
Maybe it does.
“Good day?” I ask.
He takes a moment to think about it.
“Kylie made lunch,” he says. “It had the sauce.”
“Ketchup and mayo.”
He nods.
“Did you eat it?”
“Yes.” He pauses. “She made it wrong.”
“How so?”
“Too much ketchup.”
I look at the screen. He’s right. The ratio matters.
“I’ll show her,” I say.
He seems satisfied. We watch the cartoon, though I’m mostly just sitting in the same room with it. The annoying laugh is good background noise. I can work through the problem in my head until it makes sense.
I’m missing something. I don’t like incomplete pictures. I need to see the whole thing before I decide what to do with it. Fucking with my casino is typical for the Italians. The fake delivery is testing my security.
Following Luke is something else. I’m sure of it.
“Your mom will be home soon,” I tell him. “She’s working a little longer.”
He nods without looking at me. He knew that. He wasn’t worried.
The cartoon plays on.
She’s working extra hours because she wants enough money to leave. I made her feel that way because of the way I handled our kiss.
I wanted it, but not like that.
I wanted to bend her over the desk. Take her in my bed. Anywhere she’d let me have her, to be honest. I wanted to bury my cock deep inside her. Taste her. Fuck her until we were both satiated.
I’ve paid for women. The transaction is easy. I prefer it. But I don’t want that from Gabby. I want the real thing. I need to know she’s choosing me, not repaying me for putting a roof over her head.
So, I stopped her. And I did that wrong. I offended her, which was never my intention. And now, she’s working extra hours so she can get away from me.
I’ll have to fix that.
I’m not sure how.
“Are you hungry?” I ask him.
“Is it dinner time?”
I check my watch and remember the schedule that is on our fridge. Irina is off today, but there are meals in the freezer.
“It will be in five minutes,” I tell him.
“Okay.”
We finish the episode and go to the kitchen. He sits at the table with his dinosaur book and the stegosaurus in one of the empty chairs while I check our options.
That’s something else I’ve noticed about Luke. He doesn’t have a tablet. Mila does. I don’t know if she spends a lot of time on it. I don’t know what “a lot” is. I wonder if Luke doesn’t have one because Gabby doesn’t want him to, or if she hasn’t been able to afford one.
I’ll ask.
I choose the meatloaf and mashed potatoes. I remember what Gabby said about mac and cheese. I don’t know if that rule applies to all pasta.
I heat our meal and carry it to the table.
“Do you dish out your own, or should I do it?” I ask him.
“Mom makes me a plate.”
I suspected as much. I give him what I think are adequate portions of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and a little corn.
He doesn’t reach for the fork when I sit down. I try to figure out what I’m missing. I’m not good at guessing. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Is it hot?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Shouldn’t be. You have to test it.”
“Mom blows on my food.”
I think about that. Me blowing all over his food. I don’t want anyone blowing on my food. Gabby does it for him because she sees and anticipates his problems. He knows the food is hot.
“Luke, you’re a big boy. Blow on your own food.”
Is that wrong? Shit. I don’t know how to do this.
He frowns and then blows. I blow on my food as well.
Then we eat. Just me and him.