Page 17 of Brooklyn Bratva

It was nice to be able to spend time with him in the evenings and on weekends, instead of always having to make myself scarce so as not to get in the way of yet another lesson. And I had to admit that our house was much better than the cramped apartment we used to live in. It was kind of nice being the cool kid from New York, rather than the Russian obsessed weirdo girl, for a change.

But Albany was a provincial town in the middle of nowhere compared to New York.

More than anything, I missed being so close to the sea, and I was planning on taking full advantage of the boardwalk while I was here. The pollution and the traffic noise were necessary evils that I’d just have to remember how to zone out again, like the sound of old Mrs. W’s TV coming up through the floor at all hours.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Anyway. I’m glad you got there okay. How’s Mrs K? Ivan’s been pretty worried about her for a while now. It’s not going to be too much for you to handle is it? If you think she needs a professional, Ivan’s not going to argue. And we’ll find you some other place to stay.”

“Dad, breathe! You gotta let me answer the questions when you ask, you know that right?”

“What can I say? You’re my baby girl. I worry about you being so far away from home.”

“How do you think I survived college?”

“I have no idea. It’s something I tried not to think about.”

“I’m twenty-two. I can look after myself. I’m not a kid anymore, Dad. And Mrs. K seems fine. I guess Ivan’s as much of a worrier as you are. Everything’s under control.”

“She says after she’s been mugged.”

“Come on! I didn’t have to tell you that, and now you’re going to hold it against me? Don’t make me want to keep things from you.”

Dad let out a sigh and I could hear how tired he was down the line.

“Okay. Fair point. I just worry, Pumpkin.”

“Oh, don’t call me that…”

“I know you’re gonna do just fine, Becca. Good luck tomorrow. You’ll knock ’em dead. You’re making me so proud. Your mama would be too.”

I pressed my lips together hard. I never knew how to feel when he talked about her. It had been just me and him for most of my life. I never knew her, except for in photographs. And now I felt a sharp sting at the bridge of my nose and behind my eyes.

“Dad, stop already. You’re gonna make me cry.”

“Okay, okay. Just promise me, for the sake of my blood pressure, no more wandering around in a daydream, alright?”

“I’ll try. Sleep well, okay? I’ll call you in the week sometime.”

“You better. Good night honey.”

“Night Dad.”

I wanted to ask more about Ivan, but there was no point. Dad had always been oblivious to my infatuation with his friend, getting excited about my fascination with other cultures instead and thinking it was his doing. I wasn’t about to bring that idea crashing down when there was nothing more that I had other than a knotted mat of feelings and desires that were probably never going to be answered.

I sighed, thinking back to the way Ivan’s hand had felt against my back as he’d guided me through the streets, and the way his eyes burned into mine. Maybe I was imagining it, but I didn’t think so.

Regardless, there wasn’t anything to actually talk to Dad about yet. What was I going to say? Ivan had spent more than half a second looking at my mouth, so now we were going to get married? I wasn’t quite that delusional. But being here, feeling like maybe something between us was just about to happen made me realize that sooner or later, I was going to have to tell Dad. And I had no idea what he was going to say about it. If this wasn’t totally in my head after all, then there was a strong possibility that Dad was going to end up hating Ivan forever.

CHAPTER 8

Ivan

The end of my official shift had never meant that my work day was done. I’ve always had other duties to take care of, but lately I’d been grudging the extended days. After so long I’d gotten used to balancing one world with the other, but knowing I could have been spending time getting to know Becca better made me start to resent it.

Separation used to help, but creeping into mama’s place to use the office I kept in her apartment only reminded me that Becca was one thin wall away, asleep in the guest room. I could walk in there, if I wanted to. I could sit on the end of her bed and watch her sleep, or I could kiss her like she was a princess waiting to be woken from a curse.

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