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This is Jasper’s chance to try to make me look stupid.
In the tone of an adult forced to explain physics to a toddler, he says. “Yuri Koslov sells in Soho. We can’t just waltz in and peddle our product anywhere we want. We have agreements in the strip clubs, not in the nightclubs.”
“Then we need new agreements,” I say.
Jasper throws Adrik a look. It means,Get your bitch on a leash.
Adrik ignores the look, considering the issue at hand, not the squabble.
At last he says, “We’ll start in the strip clubs.”
Jasper smirks.
“In the private rooms, to the premium clients,” Adrik says. “If it’s popular, we’ll expand from there.”
“It will be popular—” I start, but Adrik holds up his hand to cut me off.
“Make it and test it first. Then we can talk about where to sell it.”
“Sounds good to me,” Jasper says, superior and satisfied.
He thinks he came out the winner in our first skirmish. And he’s half-right.
I’m boiling with irritation, tossing down the remains of my tepid beer. I’m always going to be outvoted if it’s me versus Adrik and the rest of the Wolfpack.
I push my chair away from the table.
“Where are you going?” Adrik asks.
“To dance,” I say, stalking off through the thick fog of smoke.
I pass the table where the immensely fat Chechen boss is smoking from a three-foot brass hookah, a pair of gorgeous girls draped on either side of him, each puffing from their own slender pipe. The girls’ eyes are glazed, their heads lolling against the don’s beefy arms. As Elbrus lets out a chain of swirling smoke rings, I think how much he resembles the caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland, the two dazed girls befuddled butterflies flopped against him in their brightly patterned dresses.
I join the cluster of escorts dancing to the music pouring out of a stack of old speakers.
The girls make room for me at once, floating and resettling like a school of fish around a whale. They can see that I’m useful, either as a source of funds or as a way to draw business.
I bring more eyes their way. Elbrus is watching us, as well as Adrik’s frenemy Krystiyan Kovalenko, and several other tables of gangsters who have yet to choose their female entertainment for the evening.
The eyes burning on my back hottest of all are Adrik’s. I feel him watching while I twine in and out of the girls, sandwiched between them, sliding against their bodies.
I throw him a glance over my shoulder before sliding up behind the prettiest girl of all, her hair cut in blunt bangs and a bob, her lips a crimson bow.
I’ve been here a day and I’m already getting tired of men—so much ego and so much insecurity in one hairy package. I want to be around smooth skin and soft voices. I want to be with the species who knows that when a great song is playing, there’s no fucking way you should be sitting in a chair.
My annoyance with Jasper leaks away as I sway with the beat, my hands on the other girl’s hips, her ass pressed against me. Her perfume is light and sweet, it makes me feel like I’m floating.
I’ve got a temper. It flares up fast and hot, but without fuel to keep it going, it burns out soon enough.
Already I’m willing to forgive Adrik for taking Jasper’s side, and even Jasper for turning it into a conflict in the first place.
I give Adrik another look, half a smile this time. He’s still watching me, while Jasper tries to pull him into conversation. I could lure him over here, show Jasper that he’s gonna have to become a whole lot more interesting if he wants to keep Adrik’s attention. Really rub it in his face.
But I remember my mother’s favorite saying:You’ll catch more bees with honey than with vinegar …
I’ve got a whole lot of honey right here.
I ask the girls, “Kto-nibud' iz vas govorit po-angliyski?” Any of you speak English?I downloadedRosetta Stone, but so far I’ve only memorized a dozen Russian sentences, and I doubt I’d understand the answers.
