Chapter 2 - Georgie
My book bag thunks as I drop it to the floor next to the door of my dorm room.
I have an hour before my next class, and I’m dying for a cup of tea.
I kick the door closed behind me and rub my hand over my shoulder.
Those textbooks weigh a ton. Even in my last year, I still hate lugging those books around. I never got used to it.
I moved from San Diego to complete my Undergrad at Arizona State University. There was a specific program I wanted to focus on, and Arizona was the right choice for me.
And I’m very happy here.
My dorm room is small, but comfortable, and I’m lucky enough to have it all to myself, while some of the other dorms are shared. I like having my own space and peace and quiet in order to study.
It’s an open-plan studio with a comfy L-shaped corner couch and a double bed.
A tiny kitchenette sits just off the living room, and a very cramped bathroom with a shower is tucked away behind a door next to the bed.
That means I don’t have to use the communal bathrooms on campus, and while I can’t cook a full-on gourmet meal in the kitchen, I can make snacks and my beloved lavender or peppermint tea.
Some of my friends at university, back in San Diego and here in Arizona, got stuck with the worst roommates, partying every weekend, bringing random guys in at night. I guess it’s normal for some students not to take it seriously.
Thank goodness I don’t have to deal with any of that.
I’m pretty sure Jessa pulled some strings for me to get me my own room when I transferred—her, or more specifically, her brother, Kristopher. A name that often slips into my thoughts and has pestered me for years. 'Pestered' might not be the right word. Haunted? Taunted? Influenced?
Jess is my best friend. I met her in my first few years of studying for my psych degree. As part of the course, I was required to offer counseling to other students on campus, and Jess was one of the people who signed up.
Her brother didn’t really want her to go to counseling in the city, but she needed someone to talk to, someone who was sworn to keep the stories she told private.
And that someone turned out to be me.
I flick the kettle on and grab my pink and blue polka dot mug from the sink, running hot water over it to rinse it because I’d rushed out so fast this morning, I’d just dumped it there unwashed.
As the water slowly churns to a boil, I stand lost in thought, staring at the glowing light of the kettle.
Jess is a few years older than me.
We clicked almost instantly. At first, in our sessions, she spoke in loose metaphors, but after a few weeks, she started loosening up and speaking freely. Until meeting her, I was just an innocent all-American girl who had no idea about the mafia, other than what I’d seen in movies.
I learned about her life and her ties to Bratva, a world that was somewhat shocking to me, terrifyingly unknown. Of course, I knew it existed, somewhere in the underbelly of the city. But it was beneath a veil, a mystery that didn’t impact any part of my life until she opened my eyes to it.
She told me about her brother, an incredibly powerful Pakhan, a Bratva king.
She spoke about her childhood, her life with security following her around, and how she always had to watch her back.
She was haunted by so many things, things that affected her daily life in ways normal people could never understand.
And the more she spoke, the closer we became.
It was a strange friendship at first, because my moral stance was always black and white.
Right or wrong. There was never an in-between.
Not until I realized what an amazing person she is, and how good people can live in dangerous, criminal worlds.
Suddenly, there was gray. Things weren’t as simple as I’d always believed.
It’s not like she chose that life. She was born into it, like so many others.
Jess is incredible. She’s strong, funny, beautiful, caring and gentle.
She introduced me to Bratva life, and while I did start becoming a little entangled in it—not directly, but knowing things I probably didn’t want to know—I never, ever regretted meeting her. And to this day, she is the best friend I’ve ever had.
The kettle clicks, and I open the pale lilac ceramic jar sitting next to it. It’s shaped like a rabbit, and I lift its cute little head up to grab a lavender tea bag from inside its tummy.
I drop the tea bag into the mug and slowly pour hot water over it, watching the colors swirl into the water as flavors soak from the herbs locked inside it.
As I set the kettle back into its stand, my phone rings, and I pat my back pocket to find it, then pull it out and smile broadly when I see Jess’s name on the screen.
“I was just thinking about you,” I grin as I answer, holding the phone between my cheek and my shoulder while I stir my tea.
“Hi, you. How are things? It feels like I haven’t spoken to you in forever,” she says cheerfully.
“Well, it’s only been two days since we spoke, but I haven’t seen you in forever because you’ve been too busy with that hunk of a man you married.”
She giggles. “He is a hunk, isn’t he?” She muses. I can picture her lying on the sofa with her feet draped over the back. It’s how she used to lie on my sofa and talk to her brother on the phone whenever she was visiting me.
She married a Bratva king. Emmanuil Belyayev.
A man as powerful as her brother. Everything in the mafia serves some kind of purpose, and her marriage to that man created an alliance between her family and his.
One her father is pissed off about.
But I also happen to know that this particular marriage was much more than an alliance. And she’s happy, so freaking happy it makes me want to puke. I smile at myself. Maybe I’m just jealous because I also want that crazy, wild kind of passion.
I’m happy she still talks to me about all of it. I want to be there for her—even if I don’t fully understand the life she lives, I listen and support her in any way I can.
And she does the same for me.
“So…stop stalling and tell me everything,” she demands, and I roll my eyes. She messaged me this morning asking for a full report of how my date went last night. I just haven’t had a chance to reply yet.
“Bleh,” I huff.
“Oh no. Another bleh.” She sighs. “Why? Did he chew too loudly?” she teases me.
“I am not that difficult, you know. I just didn’t feel the need to carry on entertaining the idea of him.”
“Okay, but you’ve said that about literally every single date you’ve been on in the past few years,” Jess scolds me. “You can’t dismiss them fifteen minutes after meeting them."
“I can, actually,” I laugh.
I can feel her rolling her eyes at me.
I sit on the sofa with my feet curled beneath me, sipping my tea while she proceeds to lecture me.
“Georgie, firstly, you seem to avoid dating altogether, and then when you do finally go on a date, you start messaging me ten minutes in and telling me you want to leave already.”
“Okay, but I’ve been busy with my degree.”
“Other people in college find time to be in relationships.”
“Well, maybe that’s why I’m going to do better than they are,” I argue.
We’ve had this conversation before.
I’ve never told her the real reason why I hate dating.
Jess sighs loudly on the other end of the phone. “Well, seeing as you’ve got no juicy stories, I’ll just talk about myself,” she laughs. “My brother still won’t let me go to Phoenix. He’s such a pain in the butt. Do you want to march over to his place and kick him in the shin for me?”
My body goes tense.
There it is.
The reason I can’t date.
Kristopher.
The man whom I compare everyone to, every single date I’ve been on since we kissed. And every single guy ends up severely lacking.
“Hello, earth to Georgie. Did the line go dead?” A weird sound comes through the phone as though she’s waving it around.
“I’m still here,” I say quickly, realizing I’d been lost in thought. My mind races to change the subject.
“I think we lost connection for a second,” she muses. “Anyways, what else has been going on? How’s the study stuff going?”
I breathe a sigh of relief.
“It’s going,” I huff. “I can’t wait to be done with it. I love it, but I’m so ready to get out into the world and start doing things.”
“You’re going to shine one day, Georgie. You're so good at it. You have a natural, innate empathy that makes it so easy to talk to you. I know I spilled all my secrets,” she giggles.
There’s a knocking sound in the background. “Oh, sorry, G, I have to go. Are you free for a video call tonight? Maybe nine o'clock?”
“Yes, that’s actually perfect. And long overdue,” I laugh.
“Okay, good. I’ll call at nine then. Chat soon. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
I set the phone down on the sofa next to me and stare at my tea.
Kristopher.
I sigh hopelessly.
There is no woman in the world who could resist that man’s charms. And he’s gorgeous. I mean, dangerously so. Every guy I meet is a boy in comparison to that man. I can’t even entertain the idea of being attracted to someone else, and quite honestly…it’s annoying.
So, while learning about Jess’s Bratva world didn’t affect me in a bad way, her brother did. He made it impossible to date.
It’s not even like he’s a major part of my life, and since I don’t see Jess as often anymore, I hardly see him at all. But every now and then, I’ll get a message from him that will send my heart into a tailspin.
It’s ridiculous. And somewhat embarrassing. I’m pining over this man when we will never be together.
My eyes roam over to my phone, trying to remember the last time I actually spoke to him, and I notice the clock on my lock screen.
“Shit,” I squeal, jumping up. I’m going to be late for my next class. I’ve been sitting here daydreaming about him again.
I set my unfinished tea on the little coffee table in front of the sofa and run to grab my keys and my book bag, pushing the door open.
I hurry out into the fresh afternoon air and walk briskly towards my class.
As I make my way around campus, people smile and say hello.
It’s a normal afternoon, a normal day, so why do I have a weird prickling sensation on the back of my neck?
I turn to glance over my shoulder, but everything seems as it should…normal.
I’m just being silly. All this thinking of Kristopher has me agitated about things I can’t have. That’s all.
The afternoon rolls on, and I attend my philosophy class, and then head back out onto campus to my neurology class. That same sensation follows me around the entire time. I rub my hand over the back of my neck, trying to brush it away, but I have this unnerving feeling that someone is following me.
After my classes, I carry my heavy bag back towards my dorm. I’m hungry and eager to order some takeout and get into my evening study session. At least when I’m studying, I’m not thinking about him.
I turn the key and push my door open with my foot, dumping my bag in the usual spot as I slide my phone from my back pocket to open the food delivery app. I’m craving chow mein.
But before I have a chance to do anything, two men leap from their hiding places, one in the kitchenette and one in the bathroom.
They’re on top of me before I take in a breath to scream.
One of them clamps his hand over my mouth, and I kick, panic spinning through me like a hurricane.
I bite down on the hand over my mouth, and the man yelps, grabs a handful of my hair, and punches me hard in the jaw before letting me drop to the floor in shock.
I scream, but it’s cut off when the other man grabs me and wraps duct tape over my mouth. He tugs me to my feet, my back against his chest, and his arm around my throat. My head is spinning. My entire body is shaking with adrenaline.
What’s going on? What the hell is happening?
“Is this the right girl?” One of the men snarls.
The other pulls out his phone and looks at a photo of me on the screen. “Yes, let’s get her out of here before someone hears the commotion. The boss won’t be happy if we get caught.”
“Whatever, man, she’s just a girl,” the first guy snorts, tightening his arm around my throat, cutting off my air, and making the world spin out of focus.
I hear muffled voices as the thought strikes me.
These guys are mafia. Their accents, the way they look, the guns strapped against their sides. This is something to do with Jess and her family. But why do they want me?
“Coast is clear. Let’s go.”
“Right behind you.”
He releases my throat, and I take a sharp breath through my nose, my mouth still bound with tape.
As soon as they open my dorm room door and drag me out into the early evening darkness, I start fighting again.
It earns me a sharp punch against my left side that knocks the breath from my lungs and shoots pain through my entire body.
The man tosses me over his shoulder.
They throw me into the trunk of a car.
They slam it closed.
The darkness is thick and overwhelming.
What are they going to do to me?
My mind races through all the stories Jess has told me over the years, but I never asked about these kinds of things. I never asked what they do to people, what her enemies are capable of. We spoke mainly about her family, how it affected her as a person…
I have no idea what is going on and what is going to happen to me.
The engine growls to life, and they pull away. I roll onto my back and start kicking wildly at the inside of the trunk.
But they just turn the music up in the car, and my attempts are rendered useless.
Tears stream over the duct tape and roll off the sides of my cheeks.
I squeeze my eyes shut and count to ten. I’m a trained psychologist. I can keep a level head. I have to decide if I want to make it out of this alive.
A full-blown panic attack won’t help anything. It’ll make things worse. I need to pay attention, focus, gather any information I can that might help me.
But the fear is so real, so intense, it’s like nothing I have ever felt before.