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My eyebrows knit in confusion at the spatula in her hand.
“You didn’t care to tell me Alek’s galivanting around the countryside after some dancer? It’s better if he ends up dead,” she seethes as she points the spatula in my direction.
I walk two steps ahead of River as she pins him with a glare, her lips pressed into a thin line. She looks him up and down before her gaze rolls back over to me. “And you bring me back a boyfriend? Have I taught you and your brother nothing?” she scoffs, then turns back to head into the house, waving the spatula for us to follow her inside.
Into the lioness’s den we go. Because the old bitch is nothing if not unpredictable when in a bad mood. I know because she raised me to be the same.
When we close the door, I take my heels off at the door, and River removes his shoes too.
“She seems…”
“Crazy,” I finish for him. “But you’re not allowed to say that. Only I am. And besides, you insisted on coming along.”
In all the years I lived here, and those after, not much has changed. The old bitch took a liking to traditional Japanese housing design and so built her own modern version with paper sliding doors for all the main gathering rooms. She also liked the idea of everyone taking their shoes off at the door, which made for a wicked time for Alek and me as we stole guests’ shoes from time to time.
Meredith has a thing for consistency. It’s why everything about her regal ass hasn’t changed one bit. I’m pretty sure if I were to walk into my old bedroom, it would be untouched. I often wonder if Alek is the way he is today because of her, with his no-touching thing. Perhaps because she was so peculiar on cleanliness and where items were placed that he formed his own aversion to filth. But I doubt that, and never really dug deeper because I understood that was his issue, no matter how close we are. All I know for sure is that the way she molded us left a distinct impression.
I follow the smell of something burning in the kitchen.
“For fuck’s sake,” she curses as she throws a tray of muffins on the oversized island. Not once have I seen her in here. And her skills show it.
“Are you trying to burn the house down?” I ask.
“Very funny, smartass,” she says in her thick Russian accent. “The doctor said I should take up a hobby. It’ll be good for me, she says.” She lifts a cigarette to her mouth and takes a drag, then blows out a cloud of smoke.
“I’m sure the doctor could recommend cutting some things out,” I say pointedly. If you don’t want to end up dead, I add to myself.
The old bitch looks at River and then me. “Where are your guards?”
“They’re not needed in order to visit you, are they?” I ask diplomatically. But I know it’s the foreign man in her kitchen who she doesn’t trust. I know better than to introduce River, because Meredith prefers when people make way for her. She says you can read a lot about someone in the way they introduce themselves, and I don’t make the mistake to do it for him.
She opens the top drawer, pulls out a gun, and places it on the counter.
I roll my eyes. “Meredith, I don’t think that’s necessary.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “No? Because right now your brother is missing because he’s chasing pussy, and you seem distracted because of…” She waves her hand toward River and loses her words. “He’s beautiful, I’ll give him that. But you two have lost your ever-fucking minds.”
“He and I are nothing,” I’m quick to say, denying her insinuation about me and River. But River barges past me and holds out his hand with a cunning smile.
“The name is River, ma’am.” I cringe at his use of “ma’am,” and he doesn’t miss it either. He just looks at me and shoots me a small smirk.
“Oh, would you look at that… it speaks,” she says condescendingly as she takes another puff, ignoring his outstretched hand.
He smiles. “You two are more alike than I expected.”
“Flattery won’t get you anywhere here, boy,” she snarks back.
“Who said it was a compliment?” he replies sweetly.
Her eyebrows shoot up, and she turns to me. “I can see why you might’ve caught her attention,” Meredith says over the counter as she pours herself a glass of whiskey and then a second and hands it to River.
I’ve only ever seen him drink scotch, but he accepts it.
You can’t be serious? There’s no way he can win over this old bitch.
“River who?” she asks, properly appraising him.
I roll my eyes and sit on a stool at the counter. River remains standing at the edge, closest to the door, and I hope it’s an intentional exit strategy, because he might need it.
