Page 56 of Dirty Roxie
“You are worse than your mother,” he hisses at her.
“Do not speak ill of my mother.”
“You know nothing.” He waves a hand in the air at her. “Useless.”
“Nothing about what?”
“You women with yourgiftthinking you are special—”
“Seems pretty fucking special to me,” I interrupt.
Viktor glares at me before continuing, “Your mother, with her head that got so big, she lost sight of what was important. What mattered.”
Daria tenses beside me, but, to her credit, remains silent.
“Me.” Viktor points to himself.
“She loved you,” Daria defends.
“And I loved her.”
The server comes to take our order. Daria and her father both opt for vodka, I go straight for the whiskey. The conversation stalls until after her return with the drinks.
“I loved your mother more than anything else.” Viktor takes a long sip of his vodka. “But she could not balance her life well.”
“I saw no imbalance,” Daria says.
“You were not married to her.” Viktor leans over the table, an evil glint in his eyes. “Take Katya, for instance, she knew . . . how shall I put it . . . tocaterto the men. First and foremost, like she should.”
“If you laid a finger on Katya, I will kill you.”
“Do not be crass, Daria. America has tainted you. I did not touch your sister. Though I cannot say the same for some of my friends.” Viktor shrugs as though it’s not a big deal.
The anger radiates from Daria. I feel, rather than see, her slip her knife from her pocket. The same one she’d thrown at Quinn. I didn’t even realize she’d retrieved it before we left. The girl is stealth as fuck.
“Why?” she asks him.
“Why ask why? There is no reason. It is as it is. Katya was fine with it, I assure you. She was rewarded handsomely.”
“You’re disgusting.” Daria’s grip tightens on the knife, she pops the blade out silently.
“The better question is, why did your mother do the same?”
I lay a hand on Daria’s thigh at her intake of breath.
“Mama would never do as you say. She loved you and was faithful.”
“Loved me, yes. Faithful, no.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“And sadly, she’s not here to ask.” He takes another long sip, almost draining his double vodka. “I made sure of it.”
“What are you saying?” she asks.
“You know exactly what I’m saying,” he returns. “And if I can do it to her, I can do it to you.”
“Bastard!” she breathes, her arm moving swiftly under the table. Viktor eyes widen to almost comical measures. It takes me a second to realize that Daria has buried her knife in the side of his thigh.
