Vasily
Vasily
I’m five miles away from my apartment before I realize I didn’t bring my wallet, my phone, or even my coat. It’s hovering at freezing temperatures, but adrenaline has me going.
I just want two nice weeks. That’s it, that’s all I want. I want to go home to a bed being warmed by a soft, sweet-smelling girl who will let me curl up with her. I want to wake up to a pretty face and a casual discussion about our plans for the day. I want to cook for someone and be cooked for, and I want to walk around a park and point out squirrels without being mocked for finding joy in squirrels. That’s it.
That’s all I want.
I don’t want to explain myself. I don’t want to be judged because the only thing that keeps the voices at bay is shutting down half my brain.
Five miles crosses a line, but I’m deliberate in crossing that line. If I’m going to be judged, I may as well do what I want to do, and I know I can’t buy what I want on my own turf. Artyom has banned that. He lets me have my pot and my coke, my rainbow pill bottles, but that’s about it.
This is cartel territory. Our relationship with them is always borderline, but Hector was mostly pleased with how I handled his cousin’s death, even if he wasn’t wanting a lecture from me. He was grieving, I get it, but his cousin should never have been prostituting herself out, at least not without protection.
Escandalizar has a deep bass line pouring out of it and a dude jacking off in the parking lot when I approach. “Fuck off,” I yell at the guy as I reach for my waist band. I’m in sweat pants. I don’t even have underwear, let alone a gun, but the gesture is enough to run him off to his car — not the car he was about to jizz on. Fucking gross. I hate titty bars for exactly this reason, but it’s where business gets done.
The two no-neck meathead bouncers in matching black shirts and pants give me a look. They don’t need to card me; they know me. No, the process for letting me in is a bit more complicated. One of them does his best to fluff himself up at the door to keep me in check while the other slides a couple feet away to talk quietly into his headset. There’s an exchange before he says to me, “Business or pleasure?”
I look him unwaveringly in the eye as I say, “I have an itch.”
His eyes go beady, not liking that this is what Bratva is bringing to his doorstep this evening, but he passes the message on and, a second later, nods to the other guy to let me through.
I’m barely inside when a woman in a silver dress two sizes two small, cleavage spilling out everywhere, a blue wig teased to the ceiling, and sky-high heels crooks her finger at me and leads me around the perimeter to the VIP rope. From there, I’m led back around to another area within that has a curtain pulled over it. I’m not surprised to find one of Hector’s boys, Alessandro, getting his dick sucked by a naked woman. And honestly, it’s not the dick-sucking so much as the exposed pussy that’s the issue here. Arizona is strict about keeping everything down south covered.
“Eyyy, Vasily!” he greets with a cheerful wave as though everything is normal here and the girl’s just on the clock. “You look thirsty! You run here or something, man?”
I nod, not ready to divulge more information than I need to. I’m just thankful that he grabs a bottle of water from the mini fridge next to him, cracks it open, and passes it to me. I drink half of it in a single gulp, and he nods to me.
He gestures to the seat next to me and waves at another naked girl I hadn’t noticed was standing in the corner. I get a good look at her as I shake my head, noticing the flush dappling her olive skin and the way she does her best to seem casual as she holds her arms down in front of her, her fingers laced together so her arms make a vee that covers her body as much as possible.
“So what can I do you for?” Alessandro asks.
If she’s an exotic dancer, she’s new to it.
But I have a feeling she’s not a sex worker at all, not by choice.
Fuck. But it’s not my business, and now I don’t know if I can even complain about human trafficking in town. Is what I’m doing with Ana any better?
“Junk.”
He snaps his fingers at the woman who led me here, and she closes the curtain behind her as she leaves.
“Right on, man. Right on. Been a while since you rode that train, eh?”
I shrug. “Not so long.”
He grins. “We like our secrets, don’t we? So, you’re gonna keep this a secret from Hector, yeah?” He gestures at the woman half-heartedly slobbering on his dick.
I’m not about to judge form or technique, but Ana had no idea what she was doing and was struggling for the camera, and she was way more enthusiastic.
I take another sip from the bottle, noticing that it’s dripping slightly. Weird. “Secrets, right,” I agree, and yeah, I guess I have to. I don’t need Artyom throwing my ass in rehab again just because I can’t handle Ana’s shit right now.
It’s not even her shit. It’s my shit.
I should let her go.
The beat from the music downstairs starts to hit right, and I nod my head along with it. I’m not happy that these girls are here. I’m not happy that I’m here instead of in my own home. But just knowing I’m about to get a fix is relaxing me. “No money. Good for it.”
Alessandro chuckles and claps his hand on my knee. Usually, I don’t like when people touch me and would be shooing him off, but I don’t even care right now.
Everything’s going to be okay.
“Yeah, you are.”
“I’m gonna miss her,” I say into the void in front of me.
“You good, man?”
I nod. I open my mouth again to tell him I’m great, I just forgot my wallet, but damn if “I’m gonna miss her” doesn’t come out of my mouth again.
I need to send Ana home. This was stupid. I don’t get what I want.
I’m going to die in Flagstaff.
I turn to apologize to Alessandro about my mind drifting, and the neon lights shift from lines to giant blocks of color.
“She’ll sit on your dick if you want,” he says with another gesture to the poor girl in the corner.
Yet again, I say, “I’m gonna miss her.” And yet again, my water bottle leaks.
I hold the bottle up to the light to see if there’s a hole in it or if I’m so incompetent I can’t drink water properly. Sure enough, there’s a pin hole up near the neck so it wouldn’t have leaked when it was just sitting in the pack but does when I drink from it.
“He’s on his way,” someone very far away says, but when I look through the plastic bottle, I see it’s my escort and she’s right next to me.
I kind of feel like I’m inside the bottle.
I should say something to Alessandro to warn him that the bottle is leaky, but as it starts to slip from my hand, I notice a white film has collected at the bottom of it.
“Looks like you’ve had enough,” Alessandro murmurs as he takes the bottle from me.
“You son of a bitch,” I groan as my eyes roll back and silence takes over.