Page 12 of Ruthless Serenade

I recline in my chair again and let out a deep sigh, closing my eyes. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, I signal the waiter that I am ready to pay. It’s time for me to get the fuck out of here before I do something stupid. Like going over to Mindy’s table and breaking the neck of the guy she’s with.

"Excuse me, sir, but your order has not been prepared yet," the waiter tells me with a hint of surprise.

"Don’t worry," I reply calmly. "I’ll still cover the bill."

Less than five minutes later, I step outside and close the door behind me. The cool night air hits me like a wake-up call. For a second, my head clears.

I make my way to the parking lot and slide into my ride - the same black Escalade I had when Mindy was still in my life. I crack the window open, hoping the fresh air will help sort out the mess in my head. Fat fucking chance.

My mind’s still spinning. I can’t fucking believe she was here tonight. Seven years of trying to forget about her, and now she’s here on a date with some schmuck. I don’t even know who the guy is, but I could strangle that bastard with my bare hands. For a hot second, I actually imagine wringing the fucker’s neck.

Mindy’s mine.

Jesus Christ. Where did that stupid thought come from? I close my eyes to chase away the ridiculous thought.

Remember what happened, mudak!

She betrayed you!

Stabbed you in the back!

Once I feel somewhat composed, I open my eyes. And what I see almost makes me shoot up from my seat.

Mindy’s leaving the restaurant, heading straight towards where I’m parked. Driven by pure instinct, I quickly press the button to pull up the window. I watch her through tinted glass as she walks up to the car next to mine. My fucking heart is going a mile a minute.

She squeezes herself between the two vehicles, juggling her phone and fumbling with her keys. Fucking typical. She’s parked right next to me. Her ride’s a beat-up old thing; I guess she’s not exactly rolling in dough. My brain automatically logs her plate number.

I’m probably parked too close to her because she can barely open her door. She looks annoyed, and begins to rap on my window. “Excuse me, can you move your car?”

Blyad!

I freeze up.

“I know you’re in there! I saw you pull up your window,” she says, not even trying to mask her frustration.

I don’t say or do a thing. I just sit there like a fucking stone statue, a garden gnome. Finally, she huffs, and circles around to the passenger side, climbing into her car through the other side. I hear her engine turn over. That’s when I finally get my act together and move my car.

Smooth, Korolev.

Real smooth.

This is fucking ridiculous. I don’t know what the fuck is going on with me. My heart is hammering in my chest, andI can’t keep my act together. As I drive away, my thoughts continue to race in my head.

How? How the fuck does she have this effect on me? Why can’t I just forget about her? After what happened at the Tramoxine launch, I promised myself that I would never reach out to her again. There are things that can’t be forgiven, and some distances are meant to remain uncrossed.

Unless life says otherwise.

Chapter Four

Mindy

Sometimes, I feel like I’m the punchline to an intergalactic joke.

Case in point: tonight.

"Betty, you know I love you, but I want to strangle you right now," I hiss into my phone as I’m huddled in the fancy restroom of New York High. My old stomping grounds, now just another reminder of how much has changed. Betty, my forever bestie and online dating expert, set me up on a disaster date with a guy who makes me wish I’d stayed home. A guy named Nesbit McCullan.

"Oh shit! Is it that bad?" Betty’s concerned voice comes through the phone.

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