11. Nona
NONA
When I came back in the house, he was gone. Back to work after chewing my ass out. Before going upstairs, I casually look down the hall toward the parlor. He’s probably locked the door… and probably locked the doors to everywhere else in the house that he doesn’t want me to go.
The funny thing is that it’s not the getting caught that got to me. I knew that was a risk going in. It’s… well, it was everything after that.
He was angry. Angry enough to threaten me. Fortunately, he wasn’t the same kind of angry that I’m accustomed to. I kept expecting him to snap out of his cool version of rage. For all the yelling Alex did, he didn’t even move to hit me. It didn’t even look like he was going to.
I don’t know why I tensed when he got close to me. I guess I’m used to the other shoe dropping when it comes to that. The pendulum could swing one way or the other with Papa. I guess… I guess it isn’t that way with Alex.
Still, I shouldn’t push him again. I don’t know him.
And I don’t know what kind of harm he could really do to me if he wanted to.
I just have to keep him at a distance, that’s all.
Stay out of his way and not get caught snooping the next time.
If I’m going to be a spy for my father, I’ve got to be smarter about this.
I make my way up the stairs to the bedroom. The minute I open the door, I smell him again. This time, coupled with steam from the shower. I wish I could turn the clock back just a few hours. Back when I was moaning his name while I came in his arms.
I wish things could be that simple. It would be really nice if great sex could fix everything.
I wander over to the bed and sit on the edge…
Then I remember the one piece of something I found in the parlor.
I reach into my pants pocket and pull out the note I copied.
Garcia… That’s definitely someone’s name.
And the time and date are probably a meeting point.
Maybe one of their super-secret drug deals or something.
That has to be worth something to Papa. I’ll have to find a way to get it to him.
In the meantime, I can’t just leave this paper lying around. I look around the bedroom, wondering where I could possibly hide it so that Alex won’t look for it. My bags are still sitting in the corner. Pretty sure he won’t go through that, so for now, that will have to do.
I walk over and open one of the suitcases, looking for a pocket that’s not so obvious. This one has an inside pocket right against the lid.
I take the paper out and shove it in there, zipping it up. I hope I don’t find anything bigger than that.
“There you are.”
I jump and turn around. Yeva’s standing in the bedroom door, smiling at me. She’s in a white T-shirt and tight blue jeans. A pair of large sunglasses dangle from her right hand.
I chuckle and put a hand up to my chest. My heart is pounding like a drum. “You scared me,” I say.
“Sorry. Alex gave me a key. We all have keys to our places, by the way. It’s a safety thing.” She casually walks into the bedroom and sits on the corner of the unmade bed. “What are you doing?”
I push my suitcase to the far corner of the room. “Looking for a belt I thought I packed,” I lie. “Didn’t find it. Guess I left it with my father.”
She arches her eyebrows. “We can go get a new one if you really need it. In fact, that’s kind of the reason I came over. I wanted to see if my new sister-in-law wants to have a little bonding time and go shopping with me.”
“S-Shopping?” This feels like a dream. One of the recurring ones I used to have when we were teenagers, when she was the popular party girl. I always wondered what it might be like if she ever felt so inclined to ask me to hang out with her.
“Oh, um, I don’t know. If it’s all right with Alexandr—”
“You don’t need his permission,” she says with a laugh.
“I know the ‘old country’ types like to keep their women underfoot, but my brother isn’t like that.
Believe it or not, he’s pretty progressive.
And anyway, even if he wasn’t, you’ll be with me the whole time.
” Her smile broadens. “What do you say? Shopping day with your new sister?”
I stand up and shrug. “Sure. Sounds fun.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
First was the shopping. Hudson Yards was the destination of her choosing, which only surprised me a little. Not that long ago, places that sat on the border between our respective territories were off limits. At least to me. I guess it’s not anymore.
Still, the experience was interesting. Following Yeva around from store to store, buying clothing, jewelry, whatever tickled her fancy.
At first, I just hung back while she picked something out and asked me what I thought.
After about the third outfit, she rolled her eyes and said, “You know, you can get something, too, if you want. You’re the wife of a high-ranking Bratva brigadier. Act like it.”
I’ve never felt so awkward. At least not since high school. I find myself wondering how it is that we’re both daughters of Pakhans and she’s so different from me. Every store she walks into, she acts like the owner. While I just feel like her assistant.
Eventually, I did pick up a couple of items. A nice blue sundress, a couple of pairs of jeans, and some new tennis shoes since my old ones are getting worn.
Yeva didn’t begrudge me for being so conservative, either.
As I paid for my simple white tennis shoes, she patted me on the back and said, “Atta girl.”
Now, we’re sitting in a coffee shop across the street from the mall, several full bags sitting on the floor and nearly blocking the walkway. There have to be at least five coffee shops inside the mall, but she insisted we come to this one, saying, “The coffee’s better here. Trust me.”
I’ve been sipping on this mocha latte and I honestly don’t see the difference from any other mocha latte I’ve ever had.
It’s pretty much warm milk and chocolate, the way it’s always warm milk and chocolate.
The shop itself is nice, though. There aren’t too many people sitting around us at the moment.
Most of the little wooden tables and booths are all empty except for a few people.
At least two of them look like students studying from their laptops.
The table we’re sitting at is right by the window where we can see everyone gravitating around the mall and walking up and down the street with their shopping bags, wearing designer clothes.
I’ve been watching them for a while, wondering where they’re going or what the rest of their day is going to be like.
I feel eyes on me. I turn my head to see Yeva sipping her coffee and watching me from over the rim.
“What?”
She snickers. “You’re like a tourist, you know that? This whole day, you’ve had your eyes on everybody else around us instead of what’s in front of you. You’ve been people watching like you’ve never been to Manhattan before.”
I shrug as my face flushes with shame. “There’s nothing wrong with people watching.”
“I didn’t say there was,” she says. “It’s just… well, listen, between you and me, the word is out that you’re some frail little ditzy, bimbo type. I mean, at the moment, you really aren’t beating the allegations with this whole innocent act you’ve got going on.”
I’m insulted, but she doesn’t sound like she means to hurt my feelings. She says all that just as matter-of-factly as if she were reporting the weather. So I don’t respond. I just take a sip from my cup. Yeva tilts her head, her smile fading slightly.
“Oh. So, it’s not an act? That’s interesting.” She leans into me. “You weren’t a virgin before you married my brother?”
“No,” I say a little too quickly. “And that’s really personal.”
“Oh, relax.” She leans back and takes another sip of coffee.
“I’m not interested in a play-by-play of your wedding night or anything like that.
I mean.” She scowls a little. “Alex is my brother. I’d rather not picture him fucking anybody.
I’m just saying you’re really green to be one of us, you know? ”
As much as I want to, I can’t argue that. I am green. I’m a Pakhan princess who hardly knows anything about anything. “So what if I am?” I say, trying not to sound defensive. It’s not working. “Is that a crime?”
She smiles, to my surprise. “So what if you are?” she repeats.
“Listen, Nona, I’m not trying to put you down, all right?
I’m just… interested, that’s all. I’ve never met anybody like you.
Not to say that I haven’t heard of girls like you.
Some of the older generation prefer the women in their families to be wide-eyed and dumb to the ways of the world, so they raise them in gilded cages. ”
“I’m not dumb to the ways of the world,” I say. “I’m well-traveled. I’ve been to other countries and I’ve seen some things. I’ve had experiences.”
“Sure, you have. That’s the modus operandi for any rich kid. Especially one with our kind of status. But that said, I doubt you’ve stepped out of line with your father. You certainly didn’t when we were in school. You were very much the rule follower when we were kids.”
I can feel my spine stiffen. “Yes, well,” I say. “I’m not perfect. I’ve disobeyed my father or mouthed off to him. It’s never been advisable, but I’m not all that innocent.”