Vanity, Vengeance And A Weekend In Vegas Part 9

Vanity, Vengeance And A Weekend In Vegas Part 9

I shook my head, hard, as if trying to fling the idea out of my head. I gave Dena a call and let her know my plans and so I wasn't all that surprised when I finally got back to my room and found both her and Mary Ann there, sitting on my bed.

Mary Ann got up and pulled me into a hug. "You're having a hard time, huh?"

I sighed and dropped down in one of the chairs. "My life sucks."

"I've been thinking," Mary Ann said, as she sat back down next to Dena, "maybe things aren't as bad as they seem."

"How is that even possible?" I laughed.




"Well, we know someone broke into your house and brought your stuff to that hotel room but maybe there wasn't an actual murder. Maybe, just maybe this woman committed suicide!"

Dena shifted her position to look at Mary Ann. "The woman was found stuffed in a closet with a bullet hole in her head, in a room that wasn't hers and without a gun in her hand. What about that sounds like a suicide?"

"Well, I was thinking," Mary Ann said again, "what if she didn't want her blood and...you know, her...her brains splattering all over the place. So she decided to, like, contain it to the closet? She was just being considerate!"

"And the fact that she didn't have a gun?" Dena asked dryly.

"Are we sure she didn't have a gun?" Mary Ann pressed. "Maybe she was sitting on it."

"Uh-huh." Dena looked like she was working extra hard not to hit her cousin over the head with the jaguar handle of her cane. "How did she manage to sit on her gun after she had just used it to shoot herself in the head?"

"Oh, oh, I thought of this!" Mary Ann was bouncing up and down on the bed, pleased that she had managed to antic.i.p.ate this line of questioning. "I was reading this article in Yahoo News and it said that sometimes bodies have these, like, reflexive reactions right after they die. Like sometimes someone will blink and move their mouth after being decapitated or, um, sometimes their arms jerk around-"

"Those are convulsions!" Dena snapped. "Bodies convulse after the brain has stopped working properly but they don't stick handguns under their a.s.s! You need to reread that article!"

"I met Anatoly's wife," I interjected. That got both of their attention.

"What's she like?" Mary Ann whispered.

"She's a Bond Girl. A bad one. Anatoly married p.u.s.s.y Galore."

Mary Ann c.o.c.ked her head to the side, making her curls cascade over her right shoulder. "I thought p.u.s.s.y Galore was one of the good Bond girls."

"Good or bad," Dena said, "n.o.body marries p.u.s.s.y Galore. It would be like marrying your battery operated Octopus."

"Yeah? Well then that's what Anatoly did. But it doesn't matter. She may have married him but she's not keeping him." My volume was rising but I couldn't seem to bring it back down. "I will NOT lose everything! I'm the one who's going to save Anatoly from Dr. Evil or whatever. This stiletto wearing, carcinogen inhaling, p.u.s.s.y-galore b.i.t.c.h is just going to have to play Russian roulette with somebody else!"

My friends didn't respond right away. I knew I was on the verge of losing it. On the other hand, dealing with any of this while sane might not even be possible. The time had come to embrace the crazy.

"So," Dena said in a voice that was straining for calm, "I guess this means you're not ready to kick Anatoly to the curb after all."

I blinked in surprise. Oddly enough I hadn't really thought about that. I had been so caught up in just making sure he was alive I hadn't worked out what I would do with him if he was.

"I'm not sure," I admitted. "This is putting a lot of strain on our relationship."

"He's hardly been the pinnacle of loyalty," Dena said.

"Maybe not," I agreed, "but...but he's still mine and if anyone's going to kill him it should be me. Not the extended family of some mafia s.l.u.t!"

Mary Ann twisted one of her curls around her finger. "In a weird way, that's kinda romantic." Dena shot her a disgusted look but Mary Ann persisted. "She has to do this. She loves him and...when it's true love you have to do what you can to protect that, right? It's in every good Disney movie."

Dena put her hand over her chest. "Oh my G.o.d, what has Monty done to you?"

"And you know what else?" Mary Ann continued unfazed, "In all the really good Disney fairytales the princess rescues the prince before he has a chance to rescue her! Monty says that's how Disney honors feminism. The princess gets to rescue the prince before he takes her in his arms, marries her, showers her with luxury and takes care of her for the rest of her life! It's, like, a Gloria Steinem thing."

I blinked. "Not...quite."

Dena got up and took my hand. "I know you don't want to hear this, but there's a chance that you might not be able to take down the Russian mafia. Can you at least consider that possibility?"

"But...what if I have to in order to get him back?" My eyes filled with tears. Dena briskly pulled a tissue from the Kleenex box on the desk and handed it over to me.

"Sophie, what about the GM you gave the check to? What's going on with that?"

I gave Mary Ann and Dena the full run down of the morning's events. They listened quietly and it was only when I was done that Dena made a comment. "If he's telling the truth, you're out of the woods."

"That's a big if and it doesn't sound like Anatoly's out of the woods at all."

Dena sighed. "Look, come back to the Trade Show with us. We can talk about all this while sampling flavored exotic oils."

"I can't. Really, I'm so, so tired."

Dena gave me a severe look. "You used that line earlier this morning, remember?"

"I'm serious this time. Call the room in a half hour and see if I'm here if you like but seriously, I can't go to the trade show right now."

Dena studied my dark circles and bloodshot eyes. "You better not be bulls.h.i.tting me, Sophie."

"Dena, you're one of the very few people in this world I've never lied to. You know that."

Dena nodded and gestured for Mary Ann to get up. "I'll be calling the room later, just to be sure." Mary Ann gave me one more hug. As Dena opened the door for her she gave me a sympathetic smile. "Just do me a favor and think about this. Anatoly's married to someone else. He doesn't have to be your problem any more...unless you need him to be."

I didn't say anything as the door closed behind them. Part of me wanted to shout after her that I didn't need anyone to be my problem. But I couldn't force out the lie. Problems were a necessary part of life. To say you didn't need problems was to say you didn't need love.

I lay down and attempted to sleep but my thoughts kept waking me up and when I did sleep my dreams were replaced with memories.

I remembered the day Anatoly had made whipped cream from scratch. I had teased him for not taking the Cool Whip route and he had responded by picking up the bowl of his homemade concoction and leading me up the stairs to our bedroom. He sat me down on the bed and explained that homemade whipped cream was richer than anything you could buy in a store. He then slid a cream coated finger into my mouth. Next he pulled my shirt over my head and removed my bra before instructing me on where to put the cream. He watched as I did so explaining that, unlike the store bought brands, homemade whipped cream was rich but not too sweet. As I lifted my finger for another taste he lowered his mouth to my breast. A trail of cream was painted on my stomach as he described the texture of a good whipped cream. It had been hard to listen at that point because his hand had already slipped inside my jeans. As I felt his fingers enter me I...

...I woke up. A memory, not really a dream.

I sighed and swung my legs over the side of the bed. Six years. Six years of going in circles with this guy. Our first date had ended with an argument. I had stormed off and less than ten minutes later he was saving my life. That's how it always was with him. Either he was saving my life or driving me insane. It seems like there should be a middle ground. One that doesn't involve fatalities or mental illness.

Dena never yelled at her lovers the way I yelled at Anatoly, not even Jason whom she loved and had sustained a committed but open relationship with for a few years now. Of course while in the bedroom she would occasionally whip him, sometimes tie him up...throw in a ballgag and a blindfold and it was easy to see how she was able to channel her aggressions into a mutually agreed upon activity. But if she became angry with Jason's behavior outside of the bedroom she'd just tell him straight up what her beef was and then she'd walk away until he decided to come around. "Men are not worth frown lines." That was her motto. Her cousin Mary Ann had a whole different approach to love. Love turned her into a doe-eyed fairy princess. She had even wanted to get married in front of Sleeping Beauty's Castle at Disneyland until my sister mercifully talked her out of it.

But for me it was different. I couldn't deal with love in the pragmatic manner that Dena did and I wasn't enough of a romantic to harbor any Cinderella fantasies. Love, for reasons I can not explain, turned me into a fighter. It was like love was the arena and I was the Matador choosing to wave a red flag in front of a bull. It was a brutal, beautiful, compelling and totally addictive sport.

And in my version of the game no animals were ever harmed. The only thing that ever got trampled on were hearts...usually mine. The bull almost always got away leaving me with nothing more than a pile of his BS.

I surveyed the room. I could pack up and be out of here by the end of the day. Maybe that's what I should do. Maybe Anatoly wasn't even in Vegas anymore. Wasn't it at least possible that he had gone back to San Francisco? Did he even know I was here?

I opened the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out Anatoly's iPhone. What kind of moron runs out of a room without his phone? No matter what the emergency you always grab you phone!

I glared at the screen. "Stupido," I said in what I imagined was a fairly good Spanish accent. I liked the feel of the word. "Stupido," I said again and this time I reached my arm back and hurled the phone at the door....

....and it was caught...by Anatoly.

CHAPTER 9.

"My husband and I have a deal. The day he's able to make me a multio.r.g.a.s.mic woman is the day I stop dragging him to Sandra Bullock movies."

--Death Of The Party He stood in the doorway, with that totally infuriating and totally s.e.xy half smile on his face. He held up the phone I had just inadvertently hurled at him. "Just like old times."

He let the door close behind him.

For a full minute the room was completely silent.

And then he took one step forward.

"I thought I'd stop by and say h.e.l.lo," he said, his voice shaking ever so slightly.

And that was enough for me. I burst into tears and threw myself at him. He caught me in his arms and kissed my cheeks, my hair, my eyelids and finally my mouth. I held onto him so tightly he would have had to struggle to get away.

But he didn't try.

His hands moved up my back and then down to my hips and then all the way back up to my hair. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Shut up." I pushed myself away from him and put my hands on my hips. "The Russians are out to get you and there's literally a skeleton in your closet!"

"Tanya," he said the name slowly, his face completely unreadable.

I stood a little straighter and tried to access the courage that was hiding somewhere underneath all my fear. "I need to know something...actually, two things."

He nodded but his jaw seemed to tighten.

"One, Did you sleep with her and two, did you kill her?"

He took a deep breath but he didn't avoid my gaze. "Which one is the worse offense?"

"Just...answer the questions."

"I didn't even consider sleeping with her. I didn't kill her either but I wasn't all that upset to see her die."

"Wow." I sat down on the bed and stared at the floor. Was that the answer I had wanted? "I have another question."

He sat down on the bed next to me. "Go ahead."

"Do I know who you are?" The question came out as little more than a whisper.

He grasped my chin and guided my face in his direction. In a voice that was rich with both pain and warmth he said, "Yes."

With his free hand he pushed my hair from my face and for the first time I realized that he was fighting back tears. "I thought they had you," he whispered. "When Tanya led me to that room and you weren't there...just a man with a gun...I thought I was too late."

"It wasn't my room! I...wait, there was a man with a gun?"

"He showed up a few minutes after I got there...by then Tanya already had me at gunpoint."

"She..." my voice faded off as I tried to make sense of what he was telling me. "The guy with the gun," I said slowly, "is he the one who shot Tanya?"

"No, Natasha did that."

"Your wife shot Tanya?"

Anatoly nodded. "She saved my life."

And just like that he had killed the mood. Again I pulled away and stood up. "I have spent the last eighteen hours or so freaking out! " I snapped. "First I see you with some playmate from h.e.l.l then I go up to what I think is your room and find her dead in a closet filled with my stuff! Then I'm hara.s.sed by your wife and the GM of that stupid hotel-"

"Wait," Anatoly reached out and grabbed my arm. "What GM?"

"That can not be the thing you're focusing on!" I yanked my arm away. "Your wife shot your bimbo in the head in a room that was registered under your girlfriend's name! Do you have any idea how f.u.c.ked up that is? I mean even a US Congressman couldn't come up with something this deranged! Do you get that? I mean for G.o.d's sake, Anatoly, the only reason I came to this stupid city was to buy a vibrator!"

Anatoly c.o.c.ked his head to the side. "Are you talking about that trade show? The minute we hit a b.u.mp in our relationship you go shopping for s.e.x toys?"

"We didn't hit a b.u.mp. I kicked you out of my life!"

"I was worried that you might find some guy to have rebound s.e.x with. But instead you went shopping for a vibrator. That's..." he paused as he searched for the appropriate word, "sweet."

"Getting it on with a vibrator is sweet?"

"It means you're still thinking of me and that another man can't replace me."

"What the f.u.c.k are you talking about? It means you can be replaced by a d.i.l.d.o."

"No woman uses a vibrator without conjuring up an accompanying fantasy." He stood up and brushed my cheek with the back of his hand. "What's your fantasy?"

"It doesn't involve you, that for sure. If anything it involves Ryan Gosling and an octopus-shaped bath toy with eight functioning tentacles."

Anatoly laughed and I was immediately reminded of how much I loved that sound.

"I missed you," he said quietly. "I really...I really thought I had lost you."

I pressed my lips together as the tears broke free again. I wanted to kill him...but...but I was so incredibly relieved that no one else had. I reached out and pressed my palm against his chest. "This is real." I looked up into his eyes and I could see that he was losing his battle against tears too. "I take it back," I said, desperately trying to keep my voice steady. "I don't want Ryan Gosling, or the d.i.l.d.o or even the octopus. I just want you."

He pulled me to him and his mouth crushed against mine. I felt his arms surround me and there was no s.p.a.ce between us anymore. Every part of me was responding to him and I could feel his desire literally growing and pressing up against me. I felt a surge of power. He wanted me. He had risked his very life to be here with me. "Are we in danger?" I gasped.