Free Russian Tattoos Obsession by Kat Shehata

from our arrangement and never look back.
    The boss, however, couldn’t handle losing his ex-girlfriend’s little ghost.
    Translation: I had the upper hand in our bullshit storm.
    I was only a few minutes late for my rendezvous with disaster. I got into the car without speaking to my ill-tempered, grabby keeper. The Russians wanted to spy on me? Pelt me with insults? Threaten to teach me a lesson? Game on. They’d knocked me down for a round, but I was back in ready position, bouncing on my toes, hands up, ready to throw the next punch.
    I was out of hand Friday night, but Vladimir had no right to berate me the way he did, and Boris crossed the line when he manhandled me like some asshole who owed him a C-note for a bad gambling debt. If I didn’t stand up for myself, then I would be setting the precedent that I was beneath them. It was time to find out how the Russians would handle a taste of my poison.
    Boris studied my pale face when I slid into the car. “Why did you ditch classes?”
    I didn’t answer.
    He stared at me, threatening me to change my attitude. “You’re going to try this shit on the pakhan ?”
    No reply from me.
    More death rays from him.
    Once we got to the house, I skipped a shower. I would never be clean enough for the boss anyway. Instead, I pulled a stack of graded papers out of my backpack and, using a handful of kitten-themed magnets I’d brought from home, proudly plastered my over-achiever test scores all over the fridge. When I covered every inch of stainless steel, I sat down at the bar and got to work on an English lit essay.
    Boris poured himself a cold shot of vodka. Then he moved to the fridge to study my work. He didn’t utter a word. He was probably devising an action plan to make me talk. I could just imagine his internal gangster dialogue: She will beg to speak after I cut out her tongue. “Want a drink? The boss wants you to learn how to handle your alcohol in a safe environment.”
    I resisted the urge to guffaw and kept working.
    “Boss will be here soon. Better shape up.”
    I yawned.
    Boris left the room, probably to stop himself from tossing me to the wolves on the basketball court. After I finished my homework, I started dinner. I had the notebook out Boris had given me to make lists. I kept myself busy doodling a picture of the lovebirds Igor and Natasha in the margins. I worried about how Vladimir would react when I failed to greet him at the door and wag my tail like a golden retriever, but I refused to waver. I had to stick to my game plan. It wasn’t like my situation could get any freaking worse.
    The Big Chill was my weapon of choice with Dad. I wasn’t naïve enough to believe it would work on Boris, but I was optimistic I could wear down the boss. Ideally, he would grow tired of my bullshit and put an end to our arrangement, but still keep Dad on the payroll. I heard the garage door open. Vladimir was home early. He probably couldn’t wait to see me so he could flay me some more. Was I prepared to go to war with the pakhan ?
    Stay strong. Show no fear.
    I focused on the vegetarian chili I was stirring on the stove. When the boss came in he didn’t say a word, but I felt him standing behind me.
    He didn’t speak.
    I didn’t move.
    He wrapped his hand around my elbow and gently turned me around. He had a bouquet of two-toned red and pink roses in his hand. “Can you ever forgive me, Carter?”
    I hadn’t seen this coming. No one had ever given me flowers before.
    I dug my nails into the tips of my fingers. I couldn’t look at him. He set the vase on the counter and gave me a hug. When I didn’t hug him back, he picked up my limp arms and wrapped them around his body.
    “I worry about you. You’re so beautiful. Don’t you see how the boys look at you? I couldn’t think about anything but you since you left the house.” He stroked my hair. “Then today, your papa said he was worried because you stayed in your room all weekend.”
    My breath caught