“Which one are you fucking?”
X nudged me. “Don’t be scared either.”
“With him?”
“With love.”
“This isn’t love.”
“What is it then?”
I felt uncomfortable saying it, but X had seen me do dirty things—bloody things. “This is about sex and business.”
X winked at me. “‘Sex and business is love.”
We arrived at the table.
X pulled out a chair next to Max for me. “Isn’t that right, Max?”
Max hadn’t even realized we’d showed up. He’d been looking at the exits as if searching for someone. Confused, Max looked at me. “What is X talking about?”
“Sex and business.” I sat down. “What’s up with you?”
He leaned my way and whispered, “She left.”
I spotted Oleg watching us. I said no more.
Where did she go?
I felt warmth on my face as if someone was watching me. I scanned the scene and noticed a good bit of people were looking my way. The few that I made eye contact with turned away. But many others whispered to the other. I looked further, still sensing someone’s gaze on me.
I looked across the stage to the tables on the other side. Kazimir watched me with an intensity that I was unable to fathom. He wore a designer tuxedo. As I gazed at him, my pulse jumped.
I’m going to tear that tux off him tonight.
He grinned as if he read my thought.
“Naw.” X shook his head on my side. “That boy isn’t going to lose attention.”
I swallowed as he continued to watch me and lick his lips, even though his uncle said something on one side, and Misha said something on the other.
The room darkened. I tensed. The music stopped. The crowd hushed.
Maxwell handed me a gun under the table.
I said low, “Where did you get this?”
“My guard.”
“He didn’t feel you grab it?”
“Of course not.”
I would’ve taken Luka’s gun, but I’d gotten the man in trouble in Harlem. I didn’t think I would get another chance to stay in his good graces.
A beam of white light fell on the center of the stage. A man stood in the light. I could barely see him. He wore a black suit—even the shirt was the color of midnight. He almost disappeared in the shadows.
He held a puppet that stood on the stage, its head reaching the man’s knee. The puppet was a clown with a sad face and wore a white costume with black buttons.
Everyone cheered as the puppet looked at the crowd.
The clown didn’t appear happy to be on stage or in front of everyone. He looked around, taking in the space. The audience paused from any other noise.
The orchestra played.
The clown puppet continued to take in the audience. At this point, I could only make out the puppeteer’s clothes. His face was still hidden in the shadows.
I gripped the gun and lay it on my thigh, wondering how I would sneak it back into the room. The dress was big enough to maybe put something under it and shimmy tight-legged back. That could only work if Kaz didn’t take me back. His hands would be between my thighs before we hit the room.
I turned his way.
His face remained on me. He didn’t even turn in the direction of the stage.
I smiled.
He smiled back.
For some reason, I giggled. It didn’t make any sense. Nothing was funny, but I just felt silly and free.
I’ll figure out the gun thing later.
Immediately, memories of how he’d set my body on fire flashed through my mind. My toes curled at just the thought of what his mouth and fingers had done to me on the plane and even in this castle. I’d moaned. I’d whimpered. I’d screamed. I’d melted in his arms, groaning Russian the whole time.
I cleared my throat and turned back to the puppet. If I gazed back at Kaz anymore, I would be wet and soaking this gown.
The puppet continued to appear sad and uncomfortable on the stage. I just didn’t get what was going on. No words came.
And then the puppet turned his face up straight at the puppeteer. The stage light shone on his face too. He was a regular man with gray at the roots of his black hair. He smiled at the sad clown and shrugged.
Someone snickered in the audience.
The puppet looked down and studied the string attached to his hand and fingers. Then he followed the string’s length to the puppeteer as if noticing for the first time that he was actually a puppet.
This didn’t appear to make the sad clown happy at all.
Suddenly, the puppet yanked off the string attached to his foot. The puppeteer appeared embarrassed and hurried to put the string back on the puppet’s foot.
The clown would not have it. He moved his foot away so the puppeteer couldn’t fix it. I leaned forward in the chair, wondering where all of this was going.
The clown detached another string. This one was on his head. His head now hung low and dead. Still the puppet yanked off more of the strings that held him, until no strings connected.
When the clown was done, he fell to the ground, and the puppet lay on the stage lifeless and dead. I’d so bought into this breathing puppet that I almost thought the puppet would jump up and run out of there.
Instead, he lay on the stage.
Everyone cheered.
Max and I exchanged glances and clapped right along with it.
Surprisingly, X rose and clapped like he was at the Super Bowl.
“Really?” I said, when he sat back down.
“That was genius and such a simple idea, carried out in such a moving fashion.” X kissed this fingertip. “Love the minimalistic visual aspect of it as well. The puppeteer adds even more to it.”
I twisted my lips to the side.
“What?” X chuckled. “You know your boy knows art. How the hell do you think you’re so good? Shoving art books in front of your face was the only way to keep your butt still for an hour. If not, you would’ve been climbing down a sewer tunnel.”
“Fair point.”
Max chimed in, “I didn’t get it. The puppet was a clown. I was hoping the motherfucker was going to tell jokes, and what was up with the sad face?”
“I loved the frozen sad face.” X wagged his cane, grabbing the attention from other tables. “I find it fascinating how a face that never changes can say so many different expressions.”
Max rolled his eyes. “Xavier just hit Prague and now he’s a connoisseur of art.”
“You didn’t like it?” X asked Max.
“No, man.” Max shook his head. “I’m not a fan of puppet suicide.”
I grinned. “Apparently, no one wants to be controlled, not even the puppet.”
X raised his glass and said in a mocking tone, “Give me liberty or give me death.”
I looked up at Luka as he stood behind me. “What did you think?”
Luka shrugged.
“You’re going to stand the whole time?” I asked.
He grumbled. “That’s how they do it here.”
I pointed to the empty chair by Maxwell. “Come on, Luka. Sit and have a drink. I’ll tell Kaz that I forced you.”
“I’ll sit, but I won’t drink.” He did but waved away the offer of a drink. “And as far as the puppet, none of you are seeing the whole picture.”