Ava
Calling my husband to come pick me up from a holding cell wasn’t exactly how I planned to spend my Wednesday evening, but what is life if not full of surprises?
Tatiana sits across from me on the metal bench, her fingers idly twirling a strand of dark hair. Her lips curl into an amused smile and the sight makes me wonder what’s so funny.
Tatiana… Ta Ti Ana. Anaitat
“Hey, do you know that your name spelt backwards sounds really funny?” I giggle, waving my hand in front of my face.
Tatiana raises an eyebrow, her smirk turning into a full-blown grin as she watches my outburst.
“Oh yeah, what is it?”
I frown, furrowing my brows “What is what?”
She shakes her head which in turn causes me to start giggling.
“Nikolai is going to kill me.”
The mention of my husband’s name sparks a wave of nervous tension in my chest. I straighten against the bars, trying to move my legs from under my ass.
It doesn’t work.
My leg feels numb.
I struggle to rearrange my legs but the sound of a baton striking the bars causes me to flinch.
Tatiana’s expression morphs into a scowl as she squints at the officer who I’ve decided to call Grouchy MCgrouchy pants since he’s been nothing but grouchy since we got here.
I don’t think he likes us very much.
His hair reminds me of sunshine on puffy clouds.
It’s funny, somebody else calls me Sunshine, but I can’t seem to remember who it is.
He leers at us from outside the holding cell, barking out something in Russian which only deepens Tatiana’s scowl. I don’t understand a word he’s saying but the way he says it lets me know that whatever it was, wasn’t very nice.
I scoot until I’m a few inches away from the metal seat, Tatiana is perched on and bend my head conspiratorially “What did he say?” I attempt to whisper but my voice isn’t as low as I think it is because the officer shoots a glare in my direction.
He mutters something under his breath that sounds a lot like ‘glupyy amerikanets’ (stupid American), but I’m not sure.
“Ty pozhaleyesh’, chto skazala eto minut cherez pyat’, kogda pridet yeye muzh.” (You’ll be sorry you said that in about five minutes when her husband arrives)
The officer sneers at Tatiana but she shoots him with one last hard look before dragging her gaze back to me. Her smile returns with practised ease as if the guards’ frustration was nothing but pleasant entertainment.
“Nothing sweetheart. He just said how happy he is to have us here. We’re the most delightful prisoners he’s ever had,” She sends him a pointed look and asks, “Aren’t we?”
The officer opens his mouth, probably to hurl whatever Russian cuss words he can think of at us, but before he can unleash whatever fury lay on the tip of his tongue, the door to the end of the corridor bursts open.
Nikolai steps into view.
My husband’s presence in the dim, grimy holding area is like an eclipse, swallowing everything in its path and the poorly lit area isn’t any different. Nikolai’s presence radiates the kind of controlled power that sends the air in the holding cell running cold.
Heat prickles my skin in awareness and my stomach tightens in anticipation.
Grouchy MCgrouchy pants pales at the sight of my husband, his grip on his baton visibly loosening.
“The Devil”
I frown. I mean, I can agree that Nikolai can be a bit intimidating, but calling him a devil is a bit too much.
His green eyes catch mine, and for a moment, the world fades away around us until it’s only me and him.
I hate to admit it but I missed him, which is weird since I saw him this morning.
I don’t like him. I tell myself although I can’t really remember the reason why.
We stare at each other for what feels like forever, and given my current state, it’s hard to keep track of time. We could’ve been there for minutes, hours, or even days, and I still wouldn’t have noticed.
“Ava” My name is a single icy word in his mouth, piercing my gut and bursting whatever bubble I had imagined wrapped us.
I swallow hard, my pulse spiking as I stare at him from the cell floor. The muscles in his jaw are clenched so tightly that I worry it might snap.
It doesn’t, of course, but my very high brain paints a vivid picture of his jaw breaking under the strain.
A giggle escapes my throat and Nikolai arches a brow in my direction, clearly taking no amusement in my laughter.
If anything, I fear my laughter only adds to his irritation.
“Shit.” It’s Tatiana’s voice that drags me out of the fog in my mind, “He’s going to kill me” She mutters under her breath, tipping her head back against the cell wall.
Nikolai strides towards the holding cell, each step he takes slow and measured, like the sound of a clock ticking louder and louder in my ears. The room shrinks around him, his figure consuming every inch of space as he draws closer.
The officer who’d been watching nervously from the corner clears his throat, muttering something in Russian as he tries to get between my husband and the holding cell.
Therefore getting between my husband and me.
“Otoydi v storonu” Nikolai commands coldly. (Step Aside)
“I can’t. They broke the law. They were driving recklessly, and a bottle of weed-infused champagne was found in their possession. Unless you have a release form, they are staying right here.” He replies firmly, trying to sound confident, but I, as well as anyone within a ten-foot radius, notice the slight tremor in his voice.
Nikolai steps forward, his presence looming over the officer. “I don’t think you understand,” his voice drops to a deadly whisper. “Libo otpusti moyu zhenu pryamo seychas, libo ya lichno pozabochus’ o tom, chtoby ty i tvoy znachok ischezli iz Rossii do voskhoda solntsa.” (Either let my wife go right now, or I’ll personally ensure that you and your little badge disappear from Russia by sunrise.)
If I thought grouchy MCgrouchy pants couldn’t possibly get any paler, I was wrong. Whatever Nikolai says leaves him looking nearly translucent.
He fumbles with his keys, his hands shaking as he hastily unlocks the door to the cell. Tatiana stands, brushing off imaginary dust from her clothes, her composure almost unshaken.
Nikolai turns, fixing her with a sharp, pointed stare. “YA uzhe pozvonil Kristianu. On budet zdes’ primerno cherez tridtsat’ minut.” Nikolai tells her and she nods.
(I’ve already called Christian. He’ll be here in about thirty minutes.)
She nods and tries to sidestep him. He blocks her, “Kak ty mog byt’ takim neostorozhnym?” (How could you be so careless?) Nikolai asks harshly, pinning Tatiana with a disapproving look,
Unlike me, who had only a few stains from playing champagne pong, Tatiana was rocking a rainbow of spills and splashes from bumping into a table of drinks while she raced after me when I left.
Everyone else seemed to have been having fun during game night except me. It wasn’t for a lack of trying on my part. If anything, I tried too much, but no matter how much I tried, Faina always found an opportunity to make me the subject of her constant criticism.
At first, it started off little. For instance, when I arrived, she made a comment about how my lipstick was slightly off-set when compared with the others. It shouldn’t have bothered me, but the way she said it like I was inferior to her because I wasn’t able to differentiate colours, pissed me off. But I managed to ignore the piercing feeling of embarrassment that surged through me and laughed it off.
However as the day dragged on, her comments only grew more frequent, sharper. When I failed to land the ping pong ball in a cup during our game of champagne pong, she casually remarked how terrible of a shot I was, which I obviously knew, but the subtle snickers that erupted from the others at the table only Sutherland heightened my insecurity.
So I left
I stormed out of the hall with Tatiana hot on my trail but not before grabbing a bottle of what I thought to be sparkling champagne.
It was not.
The champagne was weed-infused. Why? I have no idea.
Apparently, taking more than a shot of weed-infused champagne can lead to me thinking that I could drive better in Russia than someone who grew up in the country and had a driver’s license.
Long story short, we were pulled over by grouchy MCgrouchy pants, and we’ve been here for the last four hours if I’m not mistaken.
I could though. God knows I’ve lost all concept of time after my first swing of the bottle.
“It was an accident,” Tatiana says, her voice surprisingly calm.
“She could’ve died,” Nikolai snaps. Tatiana opens her mouth, most likely to protest, but presses it together when no words leave her lips.
Nikolai steps into the holding cell crouching down in front of me. Dark hair kisses his forehead and my fingers itch at my side to brush the stands away.
Oh, what the heck.
Lifting a hand, I bush a hand over his forehead, my lips curving upwards as I do. His hair is soft and as I let the stands fall back, I can’t help but admire how effortlessly perfect he looks right now.
“You’re really handsome,” I say, the words slipping out before I can stop them. I watch his features shift, a glint of amusement flickering in his eyes for just a moment before it vanishes
“Can you walk?” He asks and I nod lamely, trying to get up. I can’t.
Tears blur my vision and I want to cry because I can’t feel my legs.
Nikolai’s expression softens, and he gently cradles my face with both hands, his touch warm and comforting despite the tension hanging between us. A flicker of concern passes through his forest-green eyes as he grips my chin between his fingers.
“Chto mne s toboy delat’, solnyshko?” (What am I going to do with you Sunshine?)
Nikolai slides an arm around my waist, lifting me effortlessly from the floor. My arms instinctively go around his neck and my body goes limp in his arms. I lean into him, inhaling the scent of ashes mingled with a hint of cinnamon.
It’s an odd smell but it’s so him I don’t even mind the slight churn in my stomach once I get a whiff of the ashes.
I bury my nose in the crook of his neck, allowing the scent of him to surround me as carries me out of the station.