Page 37 of Lilies from Hell

“Oh, what a disappointment.”

“You have a very hard head.” I fixed my attention on his bandaged head. I did not expect him to survive after the brutal blows to his skull.

“Thanks. I train every day by hitting myself against the wall. I prefer tables, though,” he muttered with bitter irony.

I found him interesting. I might regret what I was about to say, but back then, I didn’t think too much about it.

“I like you—”

“No. Sorry to break your heart, but I’m straight. For now, at least. So go find yourself another sex toy,” he replied, interrupting what I was about to say with a pained expression.

“That’s not what I mean, idiot—” I was interrupted again before I could continue.

“What do you want then? For us to be best friends forever? Because let me tell you, you have a strange way of making friends.” I closed my eyes and touched my temples in irritation.

“I want you to work for me when we get out. You’ll be some kind of shit like my right-hand man. Do you know how to shoot?” I asked after letting out a snort.

“Yes.”

“What are you good at?”

“I’m good with computers and manipulating people.” He pointed to his face with a sly smile. “This little face here can get you anything you want.”

“Your face looks like shit right now, but it works for me,” I said before turning around and walking out.

A mistake, indeed.

“You should have come to the concert today. You would have liked it,” he murmurs, pulling me away from my memories.

“Why?” I ask disinterestedly.

I don’t like crowded places, so I don’t give a shit about his concerts, but he still always tries to convince me to go.

“Lena was there.”

“Did she say anything to you?” The words come out of my mouth before I can stop them.

“No, but I saw her talking to James.”

“Remind me why he still has his head,” I mutter under my breath before putting a cigarette between my lips. Hearing his stupid name always makes me nervous.

“He plays very well. If I fired him, it would be bad for the band, and we are about to go on tour.” I nod, lighting my cigarette and taking a drag. Then I watch out of the corner of my eye as my Rottweiler picks up the femur from the grass in his teeth and trots toward us with it in his mouth. “Don’t stress, I’ll keep you informed about everything,” he adds, blowing smoke out of his nose. “If I were you, I would have conquered her before the competition became big again.”

“Don’t talk nonsense. There’s no competition for me.” Everyone knows I’m the next Pakhan. It’s just a matter of time before my father finally goes to hell. Denis next to me snorts, amused by the confusion his stupid, meaningless warning has left me in.

“I wasn’t referring to that kind of competition.”

“She will not notice someone who doesn’t exist,” I reply quickly.

We’re made for each other. There’s no one better than me at pleasing those little demons that struggle to rise from the ashes, and she tries to push back every day.

“You’d better win her back, and with the way you’re going, you’re doing it badly.” I try to ignore him, calling my dog over so I have an excuse to drop the topic. “Or you could forget about her. Get a change of scenery. Don’t you like blondes?” Is all I can hear from his monologue when he finally shuts the hell up.

He then raises his eyebrows, as if he’s just discovered something big, and an unpleasant chill runs down my spine at the thought of that bizarre idea.

“You’ve been in love with her for a decade? Fuck. That’s embarrassing for your image as a future Pakhan. You definitely need to forget about her before someone else finds out. I offer myself to eliminate witnesses. We can start with that carrot-top imbecile brother of hers. I don’t like him for Romi.”

“It’s more embarrassing to go around sharing your fluids with everyone,” I retort in a harsh voice. He lets out a mocking snort.