Russian Roulette (Russkaya Mafiya) (7 page)

He gives me a kind smile, “I’m good, sweetheart, thanks. Listen, this is Sergeant Rodderick and Detective Saint. They have some very sad news to share with you. I’ll stay right here with you as long as you need me to, okay?”

I look over at the officers; Sergeant Rodderick looks a little older than Momma. He has really short, brown hair that’s cut like a soldier. Kind of like the guys in the commercials I see on TV. He’s tall and skinny, with a bushy, brown mustache.

Detective Saint looks a bit older, closer to my granddaddy’s age. He has short black and white hair and warm, friendly brown eyes with lines like he laughs a lot. He’s also kind of chubby like he enjoys his coffee and pie a little too much.

“Okay.” I gaze curiously at Principal Kegal, “Where’s my granddaddy?”

Mr. Kegal exchanges a strange look with the officers, and then turns back to me.
What’s going on?

“We haven’t been able to reach him yet. I think he’s out on old Mr. Mills’ ranch somewhere. An officer went to see if he could find him, so he can come get you after we talk.”

Mr. Mills’ ranch is huge so I understand. He and Granddaddy are always doing something on that old ranch.

I nod at the principal and turn toward the police officers.

“Hi, what can I help with?” I’m in the student council, so it’s my job to help any way I can with school problems.

The younger officer starts, “Well, Miss Harper, I’m afraid we have some terrible news. Your momma is Susan Harper, correct?”

I gasp, surprised, “Oh my God, Momma? Yes, that’s her, is she in trouble or something?” I glance between both the officers, “My momma’s a real good person, so whatever it is, I’m sure you have the wrong person!”

I’ll have to go to the office at lunchtime and ask if I can give Momma a call. I know she’ll wanna hear all about this.

The older guy cuts in, softly saying, “No, dear, your momma’s not in any trouble. She was in an accident today when she was driving. I’m so sorry to tell you, but your momma didn’t survive. She’s with the angels now, honey. If we can do anything, we are here to help.”

The officers look really sorry to be telling me this and it just makes me angry. They have the wrong person, I’m sure of it. I would feel it in my heart, in my soul if something happened to my momma.

I glare angrily at all three men, “I’ll tell you what you can do. You can quit lying about my momma! My momma’s just fine. You go see, she’s at work, at the diner.” I place my hands on my hips, scowling, “You are not very good officers by getting it wrong. You should be ashamed of yourselves, talking about my momma that way! My granddaddy’s gonna fix this and show you all that my momma’s just fine.” I wince because my yelling echoes down the hallway.

They have this all wrong. I need to get back to Miss Swanson’s room so I can finish my work. I know I’m gonna have to ask for help on this math assignment now.

Mr. Kegal looks at me as tears shine in his eyes, “No sweetheart, I’m afraid it’s true. It really is your momma, and she’s gone. She died, and I am so completely sorry this is happening to you.” He touches my arm tenderly as he says this.

I stare into his sad blue eyes and know he’s telling me the truth. He and Momma went to school together when they were kids and I’ve known Mr. Kegal since he became principal when I started second grade. I know he wouldn’t lie to me like this; he’s always been a nice person.

I really don’t know what to do. It’s like someone just kicked me in my stomach, it feels like someone has a pillow over my face and is sucking all the air from my lungs. I gasp loudly, as my chest tightens. Hot tears stream down my cheeks and the world goes insanely loud with silence. I see people’s mouths moving, but I can’t hear a word anyone is saying to me.

They are all looking at me worriedly and I drop to the floor. I have my hands sprawled out in front of me on the cold white tiles. I don’t know how to survive without my momma. I let out a gut wrenching wail as I feel like my heart is exploding inside.

Mr. Kegal scoops me up in his arms, where I sob loudly. Mr. Kegal is openly crying now, and I hear Miss Swanson come into the hallway. I know the officer tells her what happened because she comes to me and hugs me to her chest.

Everyone, all of my classmates are in the hallway staring at me as Mr. Kegal carries me to the office. I look to London and see Brandon Meeks holding her in the middle of the hallway while she cries. She looks so grief stricken; it hurts my heart even more. Momma was her other momma, and I know it hurts her heart, too.

EMILY

A tear rolls down my cheek as I remember that awful day. God, I miss my Momma every single day. I have to remind myself I was lucky enough to get her for twelve years of my life. Even though I don’t think it’s fair she was taken from me, it could have been worse—I could have had her for even less time.

I wipe my cheek, as a text alert sounds from my phone. Fumbling, I dig through my bag until I find it, turning it on to see Tate’s name pop up.

Tate:
Kpacota, I miss you. Have lunch with me?

It’s been two weeks since we’ve really talked. We say hi to each other, sit next to each other in class. We even talk about the classwork we have together a little bit, but that’s about it. Frankly, that night at the club has me a little scared. I wasn’t expecting to have that kind of reaction to him.

I’m not ready for a relationship or to open myself up that much to someone this soon. At the same time though, when I’m around him, I never want to leave. I want him to touch me. When we talk about our school stuff, I find myself wanting to open up to him about everything. We actually have a lot in common and when he’s not being bossy or territorial, my wall crumbles a little more.

Have lunch with him or not? I guess I could. Things have seemed to cool off for him around me. I’m still completely taken with him, but I can keep it to myself.

This is good; maybe we will become friends instead of whatever we’ve been. I don’t even know how to categorize us. I am yet to really make any friends with fellow classmates. I have Avery, Tate and Cameron. I know I need to keep to myself, but it’s lonely.

I wasn’t super popular growing up, but I did have a few regular friends I talked to frequently. Well, up until I started dating
him
, then I was only allowed to talk to London and he
hated
that, too. I wasn’t giving up London though; I had already given up everything else. I’m so not going to think of that awful stuff right now.

On to Luka ‘Tate’ Masterson and hopefully my new real friend.

Me:
Sounds good, where and when?

Tate:
Are you free today in 30 min?

Me:
I can make that work

Tate:
Good. I’ll come get you. See you in 30 ;)

Me:
Okay.

I pull on some cute little jean shorts from Rue 21, my hot pink, Cartel Ink shirt that has a picture of Alice in Wonderland. I love it because she’s tattooed and pierced in it. It’s one of my favorite shirts that I own. I might not have any tattoos, but I still love them.

I think this outfit will work, it’s only lunch. I seriously doubt Tate would bring me anywhere fancy like the club to grab a bite to eat. I pair it with my low, black Converse shoes and make my way downstairs to wait for Tate.

I step onto the sidewalk in front of my apartment building and get a weird tingly sensation in my stomach, like someone is watching me. I need to give London a call and make sure
he’s
still in jail.

Before I have a chance to have a good look around, a grey sports car pulls up in front of me. The car is a gunmetal grey, the grill is dark like the paint, it has 21-inch rims and the suspension is low enough the tires take up the entire wheel well. The car is full of clean, smooth lines; it’s insanely beautiful.

Tate quickly exits and hurries around the car to open my door. “Damn, little pet, you look smokin’ today!” I smile at him and then look at the ground. I always feel shy around him.

“Hi. Thanks for picking me up.”

He smirks as he looks me up and down with his gorgeous hazel eyes. Tate’s in all his glory, hotness incarnate. Relaxed, dark, straight, distressed jeans, plain black T-shirt that hugs his muscles perfectly and black leather Polo boots. He has a little product in his dark brown hair and his eyes sparkle like he’s excited.

He’s wearing a grin and has his dimples on full display as he notices me checking him out. He shuts the car door for me.

Watching him run around the front of the car to his side, I can see his Russian features. High cheekbones and straight, strong nose; he always walks around with his head up, as if he is in charge of everything.

Tate climbs in and it looks as if this car was made specifically for him, the way the black and red leather seat molds against his shoulders. He fills up the space nicely with his size. If the seats weren’t so low, he’d probably be too big.

I run my hand against the smooth leather, “Gosh, Tate, what kind of car is this? I’ve never seen anything like it! The seats are soft as butter.”

I actually sit down toward the ground. It feels as if you could put your feet down and touch it. The inside is all black leather with blood red accents. There is a big screen on the dash and it all looks super high tech.

When he hears my question, he looks at me and it’s like looking at a little kid, he’s so excited. Oh, Tate definitely likes his cars, and I just gave him an in to talk about them.

“This, Krasaaveetsa, is a Bentley Continental GT Speed. I figure I need something beautiful to drive, because you deserve to be surrounded by as much beauty as I am right now.”

I smile brightly, because that is seriously sweet. I know my cheeks are red, I can feel them burning. I buckle my seat belt and look out the window. I have no idea what to say back, I’m a little twitter-pated right now.

Tate turns up the radio. ‘Out of the Black’ by Royal Blood is playing. I have this on my playlist for when I run at the gym. He smirks, laying down on the gas and I’m pulled back into my seat. This stunning car also has tons of power. I could totally get addicted to driving this thing.

After a short drive, we arrive at a place on the river called Calhoun’s. It looks like a giant metal building with a big glowing orange sign that says ‘Calhoun’s’.

It’s close to the UT Campus, and on the way we drove by Neyland Stadium. It feels as if we flew here, I know there is no way he was doing the speed limit. His sexy factor just went up two more notches after that ride.

The sweet hostess greets us and we decide to sit on the deck. It’s early enough that it’s not too humid. They have an outside deck as well as an enclosed deck with a panoramic view of the Tennessee River. The weather’s actually really beautiful today. It’s pretty cool because Calhoun’s is accessible by boat and has its own dock.

It smells wonderfully of BBQ. I’m a true Texas gal, I love my BBQ.

The deck has its own special menu. I order the BBQ chicken sandwich with a Dr. Pepper and Tate has the Calhoun’s Trio with a glass of water. He also orders us the Ale steak skewers as an appetizer. Everything sounds so delicious, I didn’t realize how hungry I was until the BBQ smell hit me.

This is the kind of place I know London will love when she visits. I can see her in a bikini top and short-shorts doing shots on the deck. I’m sure she’ll have, five different guys offering her boat rides, too. She’s always been fun and a party girl. I bet she and Avery would be double trouble together.

Tate cuts in as I’m checking out the awesome deck set up. “Thanks for coming to lunch. I wasn’t sure if you’d agree.” He gives me his best sexy smirk.

“Oh yeah, no problem, thanks for the invite. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until we walked in. I’ve never even heard of this place, thanks for bringing me.”

“The food’s good. My brother and I have been here a few times before.”

Tate has sunglasses on. It’s a bummer they hide his eyes. I think his eyes are my favorite feature on him, or his plump lips, or his nipple rings, or, well, never mind.

“Oh, you have a brother?”

“Yes, my brother is Viktor.”

“Is he in school, too?”

“No, he does some business for my father. He was at the club when we went. Viktor was the one outside at the door, dressed like he was going to a meeting instead of a nightclub.”

“You mean the thinner guy who called you Luka when we were going inside?”

“Yep, that’s Viktor.”

“Cool, wait, does he manage OO7? Is that your father’s place?” The pieces start to click together about why we were able to just walk in, the free drinks, all of it.

“Eh, you could say he kind of watches the place, but no, OO7 is mine, not my father’s.” He shrugs, nonchalant. He says it like it’s no big deal, like everyone owns a posh nightclub. “Viktor likes to be sort of an accountant and see things get taken care of. He doesn’t want to be the one to run the businesses.”

I gape as I take in what this means, “Holy shit, Tate! You own a freaking night club?” My eyes probably look like they’re going to pop out of my head at this point.

He offers me his grin and the server brings our food. We dig in right away. The aroma makes my stomach growl loudly and Tate chuckles when he hears it.

Our lunch was delicious, and I feel like I need to be rolled out of here. ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ by Lynyrd Skynyrd starts playing as we sit on the patio and it brings a big, happy smile to my face.

“What is it, beautiful?” Tate happily inquires.

“This song, it makes me so happy.” He tilts his head briefly to listen to it, then nods slightly. “My granddaddy taught me how to drive when I was growing up. I’d make him play this song over and over. I was around thirteen years old.” His eyebrows raise, and I giggle a little as I remember the pleasant memory. “We have a lot of land so we took his old tan Chevy out to a dirt patch and he let me drive donuts over and over until I learned how to drive a stick shift. I had so much fun that day and Granddaddy called me Donut ever since.”