If someone would’ve told me years ago that I’d end up being close with Katya and her family, I would’ve said they were crazy, but here I am. My prison sentence ended up giving me more purpose in life than anything else ever had. If I could see Stefan Dalca face-to-face, or even my sister, I’d thank them both.
I begin walking Pippa out toward the doorway but stop when I see Meghan rising from her chair. She’s either finished with her client or she’s taking a break. “I’m going out. Can you cover me for the rest of the day?”
“Uh, yeah. Everything okay?”
I give her a stern stare. She knows better than to ask me shit like that. I continue on and lead Pippa back to her parents’ SUV, where Katya starts cursing in Russian and chastising her for running off like that. Slasher stands there and shakes his head, probably used to Pippa and her rebelliousness at this point.
Meanwhile, I walk around the building and head for my car. I need to go speak to Dema and I need to do it now. I’ve dug myself in deeper with the lie, not only with Rytas but with Katya and whether she likes it or not, we have to continue this. She confessed shit to me last night that I didn’t know how to accept, but now I’ve had time to think about it and I firmly believe this could be our opportunity.
I park outside of her home and go to the doorway, knocking my knuckles against the wooden door. An elderly woman opens it and furrows her brows together. She obviously doesn’t know me and I tell her I’m Dema’s boyfriend, introduce myself and ask her how she’s doing. The moment I say I’m Dema’s boyfriend an elderly man comes up and shakes his cane at me, then offers me vodka.
I’ll play nice with her grandparents for now, but then I’ll be going to her bedroom and having a conversation with her. One she’ll either hate, or love. Regardless, it’s one we need to have, because at the end of the day we don’t have another fucking choice.
Chapter Nine
Dema
The paint brush in my hand flows over the canvas while I listen to “Mindfield” by Crucifix in my ear pods. A while back Trista sent me a music video link with this song attached and right now it makes me feel as if the song was written to describe my life. I’m an outcast in a world where no one really wants me around. It’s why I lose myself in my art.
Whether it’s on skin or canvas. I’ve even done pieces made of metal where I sculpt them into something meaningful. It’s how I work through things filling my mind, taking over. Sometimes I feel myself slipping back into a dark place in my life. A place where only I and the tattoo artist know about the markings as he did a damn good job in covering them up.
When I finished school, I went back to the States for a week and Trista and I went to the Devil’s Ink in Franklin where she made me an appointment with a tattoo artist who she’d heard about being one of the best.
Burner’s the one who designed my entire sleeve, asking me to trust him as he freehanded while talking to me about the slits in my wrist. Him and I spoke for a while as he told me nothing was worth trying to end the pain. There’s always absolution to be found, it’s just a matter of where you look for it.
Since then, no one knows what I’ve been through in the past five years besides Burner and my best friend back in the States. I have a hard time dealing with things mentally, unfortunately I’ve always been that way. I bottle it up and then when it comes out there’s no putting it back. If I can’t find a way to release it, I turn to doing something to myself without meaning to.
Earlier when I saw the time, I called out of work. I couldn’t face Kronid. Considering I haven’t slept a wink I’ve had a lot of time to think since he dropped me off. I’ve come to terms with the fact he’s who he is and I’m who I am. At least I think I have.
Stepping back from the painting, I take a good look at the beauty that’s coming to life with the reds blending with the black, the face’s features hard and chiseled yet looks soft upon touch. The eyes are what really draw me in, as I stare into the eyes of a man I painted without intending to do so. Then again, my mind goes where it wants to.
My music switches over to Struggle Jennings and Jelly Roll’s song “Love Won” when I realize I’m not alone in my room anymore. I glance to the door to see who it is, sometimes my grandparents like to peek in on me to see what I’m working on. I like to think they’re proud of me for being who I am. Only it’s not either of my grandparents, but rather, the man from the painting himself.
Oh. No.
“Um, how long have you been standing there?” I ask, pulling one of the ear pods from my ear.
“Long enough to know you’re not sick,” he shrugs and steps fully into my art room then closes the door softly behind him.
“Uh, yeah. . . about that. . . I’m well, um, I kinda needed a mental health day. So, technically it can be counted as a sick day,” I mutter and turn away from him.
“That is understandable after what you went through last night. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping to see you at the tattoo parlor, and speak with you of course,” he says. I can sense his movements as he stares at all the random pieces, I’m either working on or getting ready to send to those who’ve bought something. “You have quite the collection here. You do them all yourself?”
“Yes.” I nod.
“Impressive.” He nods in return.
“What’re you doing here?” I ask, breathless by the compliment he’s just given me.
“Like I said, I’d hoped to speak to you at the shop but now I need to speak with you,” he states, coming to stand in front of me. I lift my gaze to meet his as I tilt my head back. I barely register the slight tremble in my hands as he slowly takes the paint brush and palette. Kronid sets it on the table next to my easel.
I don’t speak since I can’t. My voice is lost as I become fixated on his beautiful dark hazel eyes.
“As I said, I need to speak with you. I did something today I’ve never done before. I lied to Katya, which now puts not only your life at risk but my own,” he says.
“Why would you do that?” I croak, finding it hard to believe what he’s saying. A knot forms in the pit of my stomach and I can barely calm myself down.
“Why do you think?” Kronid quirks a brow. “I thought about what you said last night, about what I said, about all of it. I’m thinking we play this out. Rytsa said he wouldn’t believe us right away and he came back again this morning. I had to tell Katya about us, about what happened last night. She cannot know you and I weren’t together. So, I need you to go along with this and we give this a real shot between the two of us. If we don’t, we might both be dead.”
Wow.
My mind is reeling right now.
“Let me get this straight, you put your ass in the line of fire to save me from a mad man. Now we’re stuck together because of what you did to keep me from having a bullet put in my brain.”
Kronid nods with a straight-lipped expression.
“Dema, I couldn’t bear to see you hurt because of something that could have been prevented. I told you already I wanted you for a long time. Now’s our shot, so let’s take it,” he states clearly, so clearly in fact he’s taking over the conversation, showing how dominant he can be in every retrospect.