Page 6 of The Brigadier

Huge.

He helped them realize in no uncertain terms they weren’t welcome around me.

So much for boyfriends.

At least my father wasn’t there for the very awkward moment I’d lost my virginity. It had been such a terrible experience I’d sworn off men, concentrating on school, where I excelled.

But now? I wanted normalcy.

I just had to get through tonight.

As my parents chatted from the back of the rented, very secure SUV, one of two in our little entourage, I studied the bright lights up close and personal. I’d been to New York twice before, but I’d been much younger. I wasn’t a fool. I knew it was crime ridden, full of smog, nasty people, and dangerous situations. Let alone the rent sucked, terribly expensive no matter what you rented. If you could find anything.

I’d found that out the hard way.

Thank God my cousin Sonya had lived in the city for a few years, or I might be staying in a flophouse when my parents left, not the most expensive hotel in the city. She’d found a place, although not glamorous, and had even managed to get a few of her friends to hunt down and help move Goodwill-style furniture. It was a start. That’s all I needed.

As the driver pulled up in front of the place, I sighed. I’d learned to smile, laugh at jokes, and hide behind a decent glass of cabernet. That’s what I planned on doing tonight, while enjoying a gourmet meal. It would be ramen noodles for a long time for me after this.

A flurry of activity occurred when the doors were opened, my father’s soldiers both ensuring there wouldn’t be assassins capable of firing off any shots and also helping my mother make a glorious entrance onto the sidewalk. She was the queen bee of the night after all.

I jumped out on my own, although I was a little clumsy since I hadn’t worn heels in a long time. My father had to grab my arm, his deep chuckle a sound I’d loved as a kid.

“You are so much a tomboy,” he said quietly.

“But you love me for it.” Given I’d managed to fix his favorite sports car so he could leave in time for a meeting only two weeks before, he better love me.

“You know I will love you no matter what you choose in your life. Now, try and have a good evening. You look enchanting.”

“There’s a word, Papa.”

As we were led inside, I was once again hit in the face with how celebrity-like our entourage was. Even in a glamorous city where celebrities were spotted all the time, there wasn’t a single person in the main dining room that didn’t turn their heads as we were led through toward a private back room. Papa had learned a long time ago never to sit near a window looking out onto a street or to have your back exposed. That allowed for enemies to swoop in.

Thankfully, there hadn’t been an occurrence of violence in years.

I pushed aside all the negative thoughts. I owed my father enough to turn into a lady if nothing else.

The private room was very nice, a fire going in the stone fireplace, beautiful jazz music playing. We had our own bartender, a pretty hot guy I might add. The lights were dim, the atmosphere what I’d call romantic. There were candles on tables, the tablecloths a gothic shade of red. My favorite color.

It was warm, inviting, and I felt instantly comfortable. Someone offered to take my coat and I allowed them to. After that, I immediately headed for the bar. I might as well enjoy the night. I’d be getting my apartment up to snuff tomorrow, my new job starting the morning after that.

“The finest cabernet you have,” I told the bartender, clearly flirting. Why not flirt? It wouldn’t lead to anything because it couldn’t.

“Anything for a beautiful lady.”

I noticed one of my father’s men out of the corner of my eye and cringed. He was already watching me as if I would be kidnapped right from this secure facility. I did my best to ignore him, walking around the room after getting my wine. At least the vintage was wonderful, the best tasting wine I’d had in a long time. And my father had an extensive wine collection.

As the guests began to show, I knew my obligatory place, doing my best to try to act like the perfect Russian princess. Between the various men kissing my hand, others leering at me from afar, after roughly thirty minutes, my stomach was churning.

I knew how the game worked. There would be another half hour of cocktails followed by a couple of waiters serving appetizers on silver trays. After that we’d sit down to dinner.

Then after dessert and coffee, which my mother insisted on, the men would retire to the chairs and couches surrounding the fireplace, conducting business for fifteen minutes or so.

Until then, I’d be trapped.

“Try not to look like you’re getting ready for a root canal without Novocain,” my mother told me. She’d ceremoniously removed herself from the wives of the various guests just to tell me that?

“I’m having a great time. Can’t you tell?”

---