Party Boy

A Story by chasingcars924

It's based off of the song 'Good Girls Gone Bad' By Cobra Starship. It's about the ultimate party boy...he's filthy rich and Russian and he's into drugs bad...

Party Boy

A Rough Draft

By Rebecca Nickel

“S**t.” I smiled as the curse passed by my lips. “Look at what the cat dragged in.”

I was sitting at the bar to my favorite club smoking my ever-present Marlboro.

My friend Pete was sitting to my right. He quickly turned to his left to see Anna, probably the only virgin left in our senior class. He tossed his long red bangs out of his eyes.

“Hhm cut me off a piece of that.” He smiled licking his lips. I shoved my cigarette in the ashtray and ran my fingers through my hair.

“You want first dibs?” Pete asked me.

“Na, I know you’ve been wanting her for a while.” I lied. Well, I didn’t entirely lie. He had wanted her for a while. To tell the truth though, the only thing stopping me from digging into fresh virgin skin was the preservation of my friendship with Pete.

He looked at me surprised. “You sure dude?”

I flashed a toothy smile at him. “I’m sure.”

He stood up to his full height at least 6 inches taller than me. He was tall. His parents called him ‘tree’. He ran his hand through his straight red hair and he brushed pretzel crumbs off of his blue plaid shirt. He hit my shoulder and I gave a nod. He had this saunter in his walk as he approached the innocent brunette.

I rolled my eyes feeling stupid for being such a good friend. I lit up another smoke.

“You know those things are going to kill you.”

I turned to face the person who’d taken Pete’s place. It was my nerdy friend Cora. I blew a smoke ring. “Yeah I know, we all die of something though.”

Her black, Calvin Klein, plastic frame glasses, outlined her intense, blue eyes. Goddamn she’s got beautiful eyes.

“It doesn’t mean you have to speed it up.” She replied pulling out a twenty out of her clutch.

“Virgin Strawberry Daguerre please.” She told the bartender.

“Do you want anything?” She asked me holding up the twenty.

I pulled my wallet out of my pocket. The bartender came back with her drink.

“A Coke, and I’m paying for her’s.” I pulled a twenty out of my wallet. “Keep the change.”

The bartender walked off.

“God, I hate it when you do that.” She returned the twenty to her purse. “It makes us look like we’re dating.”

“What’s so bad about that?” I told her smiling a smile that makes most girls melt. It really doesn’t seem to have an effect on her at all.

She smiled smugly at me.

“For one, you don’t date. Everyone knows that.” She told me holding up her index finger. “Two, since you don’t date, the only reason that you would be paying for my food is if I was sleeping with you.”

Her finger poked my chest emphasizing the last word. I grabbed her hand from my chest and turned it over in my own. I studied her small hand with my thumb.

“Again, what’s so bad about that?” I said this time in a husky whisper only loud enough for her to hear. I raised my eyes to her’s. She had her eyebrows raised.

“A lot.” She said still not taking her hand from mine.

“Like what?” I asked her

“I’m not one of your blond bimbos that are stupid enough to fall for your false tactics. I refuse to be seen as such.” She told me raising my chin with her other hand. She looked me straight in the eyes as she said it.

As she said this I couldn’t figure out why she didn’t take her hand back. I know that she saw it as an intimate gesture. Maybe her feelings for me were changing.

The long look that passed between us was interrupted by the bar tender returning with my drink.

“Thanks dude.” I told him with a nod.

She quickly pulled her hand back into her lap. I swear, Cora is the only girl I know that will go out in skinny jeans, a concert tee, and Chucks. Her hair was in a ponytail and she was wearing next to nothing for makeup. It was sexy. She was beautiful and she didn’t even have to try. She was the only girl that I wanted that I couldn’t have. That fact alone just made me want her even more.

“Pete’s laying it on thick isn’t he?” She asked me nodding in his direction.

“Totally.” I said depositing another butt in the ashtray.

She took a sip out of her drink.

“I’m surprised that you’re not over there.”

“I’m just being a good friend. Pete wanted her I didn’t want to be an a*s.”

She put a mock surprised look on her face.

“Dmitri not being a a*s? No never!”

I rolled my eyes.

“Whatever.”

“Isn’t that kind of your job?” She asked me. “Pick up some innocent girl with a lame pickup line hump em’ and dump em’. Being an a*s.”

“Now when you say it like that, it does make me sound like an a*s.” I answered lighting up again. “It’s more like I offer my services and they agree. It’s a business.”

“So it’s your job to be a sexual predator?” She told me with an amazing amount of honesty. “Preying on innocent little 14-year-olds.” She told me nodding.

“Hey, that girl lied to me!” I raised my voice slightly defending myself. “She told me that she was 17!”

Cora rolled her eyes.

“It still doesn’t change the fact that you broke the law and slept with a 8^th grader.”

I blew a puff of smoke out of my nose. “I break the law every night.” I said. “Goddamn I can’t wait till I turn 21 and I can drink at bars.”

‘Oh baby you’re a classic like a little black dress.’

“Oh damn, that’s my mom.” She told me and pulled out her phone. “She’ll have a aneurism if I don’t answer.”

She headed outside. I decided I was going to have some fun of my own. I spotted a cute blond across the room sitting with 5 other girls.

I put out my cigarette and crammed a piece of gum in my mouth. I had figured out that some girls didn’t like smokers’ breath. I didn’t want to take any chances.

I shook out my mane of dark curls and made my way over to their table trying to make eye contact with her the whole way. I finally caught her eye. She had hazel eyes and she was wearing this really short gold dress that barley covered her a*s.

I smiled a half smile and she blushed and started whispering to her friends.

I walked up to her and put my mouth next to her ear.

“Can I buy you a drink?” I asked her.

“Sure, what’s your name?” She asked me holding back a smile by biting her lip.

“Dmitri. Yours?”

“Shantel. I’m new here.”

“I can tell. I’ve never seen those gorgeous eyes around here before.” I said laying it on thick. To tell the truth she did have nice looking eyes, but I was just trying to get laid.

She smiled again.

“You wanna dance?” She asked me.

“Yeah totally.” I smiled that famous smile. She was putty in my hands.

Chapter 2

After I had my fun with Shantel I went home. I arrived at my penthouse at probably 3ish. I was trashed. I was trying to be quiet in my drunken stupor. It didn’t work. I walked into an unpleasant trap.

The moment I stepped out of the elevator my mom flipped on the light.

“Dmitri! Where have you been?” She asked me in high Russian.

“Out.” I answered back in my native language. I started walking to my room wondering why the hell my mother was here. My parents had been divorced for 3 years and I lived with my dad. I don’t even know how she got a key. God…my head f*****g hurt.

“Well you should have been back 3 hours ago! Don’t tell me you were out abusing another girl. The last thing we need is another law suit.”

“She was 18. I made her show me her I.D.” I said sitting down on the couch seeing that I wasn’t getting out of this without explaining myself.

“Dmitri, why do you do this?” She asked me motioning towards myself. “does it make you happy? To sleep with one girl one night, and then another?” She had a disappointed look on her face. Well, at least she didn’t know about my drug problem.

“Well does it?” I looked at her with my bloodshot eyes. I couldn’t tell her the truth.

“Yep. It’s fun.” I told her.

“What makes it fun? You will never see those girls again. You don’t even love them. How can you make love without love?” She asked me confused.

“It’s called f*****g.” I told her taking out my pack of cigarettes.

She grabbed it out of my hands obviously knowing dad’s rule about no smoking in the house.

“And why do you do this?” She asked holding up my Marlboro Reds 100s like it was a snake going to bite her. “Does smoking make you happy? What about them appeals to you, black lungs, cancer, emphysema, and coughing for the rest of your life? You’re 18 Dmitri! I don’t want to see my only child go to an early grave!”

“They taste good.” I told her shrugging my shoulders.

“They taste like a f*****g ashtray.” She told me standing up and breaking my cigarettes over a trashcan. Oh well I bought a carton yesterday.

“Why are you here? And how did you get a key?” I finally asked her as she sat down.

“Your father is in Russia. Papa died Dmitri.” She said to me with a serious face.

I felt this sharp pain in my chest. Papa dead? No, that couldn’t be right. That man couldn’t die. He’s 6’5, and weighs 245, and strong as hell. There’s no way that that man could die.

“What’d he die of?” I asked still not looking up at her. I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t remember the last time that I did that.

“It was car accident. A drunk driver blindsided him in Yekaterinburg (that’s St. Petersburg) over by the Winter Palace.” She told me solemnly. “We’re leaving for Moscow the day after tomorrow. Or rather” She said looking at a clock. “tomorrow.”

I was still in shock. I didn’t know what to say. Mom came and sat next to me on the couch and pulled me close to her chest.

“Are you drunk?” There was no way that she could miss the Vodka on my breath.

“Yep.” I said getting up and retreating to my room before she could say anything else.

My alarm went off 4 hours later. F**k. I had school and I had to get all my homework for the next week. I sat in my bed shirtless for a while digesting what happened last night. I finally got up and went to the shower. While I was washing the meth, vodka, sex, and cigarettes from my body I finally started to cry. I guess I can’t cry while I’m high. Mom still doesn’t know about my drug problem. If she knew I was into hardcore stuff like Meth, she would kill me, and then bring me back to clean up the mess.

No matter what I did, the tears wouldn’t stop coming. The salty mess rolled off my cheeks and rolled down my body like the droplets coming from the faucet. What was I crying for anyway? I know that Papa died, but that shouldn’t bring tears like this. I don’t know that last time I cried, let alone ball like a baby. This kind of tears brought me to my knees. Pretty soon I was sitting on the floor of my glass and granite stone shower, sobbing uncontrollably. God f*****g damn it! Why can I not stop crying?

After about 20 minutes of emptying my body of fluids, I finally got out of the shower. I was still sniffling and my face was blotchy-red. I felt really s****y and tired, but at least it was casual Friday at school.

I pulled a pair of Calvin Klein jeans out of my closet. They were distressed with holes everywhere even though they were new. I ripped off the tags. Along with a black and white spattered Abercrombie tee shirt and a Ralph Lauren black dress shirt I thought I looked pretty good even though I didn’t feel it. I put on a pair of black Chucks and plucked another pack of cigarettes out of my carton. I grabbed my book bag off the floor on my way out.

Mom was waiting in the kitchen with a cup of coffee for me and for herself.

“For your hangover. It’s straight.” I didn’t bother to tell her that I didn’t have enough to drink last night to have a hangover and that my bloodshot eyes were from hardcore drugs.

I drank it anyway. I needed some sobering up. The black coffee was bitter and made me shudder to drink it.

She looked at me. I knew that she could see the red on my skin. It was times like these that I wish I was a girl for things like make-up. I turned away from her.

“Have you been crying?” Her Russian was barely more than whisper. She reached out to touch my arm with her small hand. I flinched away from her.

“What’s it to you?” I asked her grabbing my bag off the floor and hitting the button on the elevator dying to leave.

She didn’t say anything until the elevator set off a ‘ding’.

“Have a good day!” she called after me.

“Sure.” I climbed into the elevator and went down 17 floors.

As soon as I was out of the building I dug into my pocket for a cigarette and my $400 silver lighter. God, I hadn’t had a smoke since the club last night. Shantel was asthmatic and she hated smokers. I told her that I didn’t. She believed me and I went 16 hours without one. A new record for me.

I smoked 3 cigarettes before getting to the subway. A lot of rich kids like me had drivers and limo’s but personally, I hated em’. What was the point? All they did was get stuck in traffic, and made you look all high an’ mighty. Sure, I had a lot of money. I mean a lot. My dad was worth over 12 big ones. I personally had 13 credit cards that he paid for. It wasn’t that I was a shopaholic, but the girls like shiny things. I had an expensive style to pay for, and habits that I paid for too. But I hated looking like I was better than everybody else.

I got on the subway and sat down and pulled out my ipod. Black Eyed Peas today I guess. ‘Boom Boom Pow.’ A very pregnant woman got on. She was beautiful, but wore cheap clothing that she tried to make look expensive. I quickly saw that there were no open seats and gave up mine. I smiled at her. She smiled back and mouthed ‘thank you’.

I grabbed onto a strap from the ceiling and the underground train gave a lurch and sprang to life.

I walked up to St. Mary’s Catholic Prep School. Cora as usual was sitting on the front steps reading something. Is that all that girl does? She was probably waiting for me. I was smoking my last cigarette before I got into school. I stood next to her looking down her white and red striped button up shirt. God, I’m a pig.

“Hi Dmitri, enjoying the view?” She looked up at me from her book.

“Yes in fact I am.” I smiled and blew a smoke ring. She closed her book with a quiet ‘thud.’

“It’s because of guys like you I only go out at night in tee shirts.” She got up and zipped up her leather jacket. “Aren’t you cold? It’s like 40 degrees out.” She said her teeth chattering.

To tell the truth I really didn’t notice it. I didn’t know why because I was usually freezing all the time. I guess I was so numb that I didn’t feel it.

“Let’s go inside.” I told her offering her my arm even though I knew she wouldn’t take it.

“Let’s.” We went inside and headed towards the stairs that we always sat at before school.

Pete was there waiting for us when we arrived. His brown eyes were underlined with dark circles. He had been up most of the night. I wonder how it went with Anna. It probably went badly by his looks.

“Hey man, you look like s**t.” He told me.

“Me? It’s you that looks like s**t.” I answered back shaking my head. “What happened to you?”

“Well” He started putting his hands together in front of him. “Anna fell for the s**t for a while, and then she figured out that I wasn’t going to save myself for marriage.” He chuckled a dark laugh. “I got home to late so my parents locked me out. I had to sleep in the lobby.”

“That sucks man.” I told him and touching him on the shoulder. I sat down next to him on the step.

“Well, what’s your story?” He asked me.

“Got home, mom was there, my dad’s in Moscow, and I’m leaving tomorrow for Russia.” I said quickly.

Cora didn’t look surprised. Why’s that? I thought to myself.

“Did you know about this?” I asked Cora.

She stood there and opened her mouth, then closed it. She opened it again.

“Yeah, your mom called my mom this morning. Mom told me everything.”

I rolled my eyes. My mom would so do that. It still didn’t change the fact that I was pissed off at her.

“I’ll be back.” I told my friends and walked about 30 feet. I pulled out my Blackberry.

My mother’s number was on speed dial 3. I pressed the glowing green button.

“Hello?” My mother answered in her heavily accented English.

“Mother, why the f**k did you tell the Hill’s what was going on? The last thing I want is sympathy.” I spoke in my native tongue so nobody would understand.

“Dmitri, I just wanted them to understand.” She said quietly.

“Well, it’s personal. I don’t need understanding.” I told her pressing the glowing red phone.

Chapter 3

It was Saturday March 22. I was standing there with my mother at the JFK airport waiting for our tickets. It was 5:30 in the morning and the last place I wanted to be at was an airport. I had gone again last night with Cora, but I had been home by 12:00. Even though I was home early, I still didn’t get any sleep.

The airport was so loud. Babies were crying, and little children whining to their mother’s. The noise made my head pound worse. I had a hangover from last night, too much vodka.

I was so fidgety. I was craving a smoke so bad, I hadn’t had one since last night.

We finally got up to the desk. I did the talking; mom’s accent was so thick that sometimes you could hardly understand her. Dad’s was much easier to understand though.

We were soon boarding the 6:23 flight from JFK to London. We were catching a 7:42 p.m. flight in London to Moscow. As always it was first class with room to stretch.

It was an 8-hour flight. I was not looking forward to it. I settled into my seat next to my mother. She looked at me with sad eyes. I didn’t know what to tell her. I didn’t even feel like talking. I pulled out my ipod. I was out almost as soon as the plane took off.

I felt my mom shaking my arm 8 hours later. Goddamn. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept that long. My ipod was wrapped up in my lap.

“You were asleep and your battery would’ve died, so I turned it off. I knew that you would’ve wanted it for the next flight.” She told me speaking her native tongue.

“Thanks mom.” I said quietly.

The flight ended 13 minutes later in the London airport. We had an hour to kill. Mom and I found a restaurant near Gate 11, where we were taking off from. It was Japanese Sushi. I’m not a huge fan of it. I was so hungry though. I couldn’t remember the last time I was so hungry. It probably had to the fact that I hadn’t had Meth in while. That s**t makes you stop eating.

Having not only one language barrier here, but two, my mom just kept her mouth shut. Seeing as neither the waitress nor my mother spoke English well, there wouldn’t be much conversing. I ordered our food trying to say the horribly hard to pronounce Japanese.

After eating a shitload of sushi, I found the nearest exit to have a smoke. It was raining like it always was in London. I stood for a minute on the other side of the overhang letting the cool little droplets touch my skin. It felt good. I lit up a smoke. Goddamn, that was the s**t. I hadn’t had one in 13 hours. My phone rang. I was thinking it was my mom, but it was Cora.

“Hey.” I answered.

“You already landed right?” She asked.

“Yeah, about 40 minutes ago. We just got done eating sushi.” I told her inhaling the toxins into my young lungs.

“Was it good?” She asked me trying to make small talk.

“It was okay, though I’m not a huge sushi fan to begin with.”

“I know. D’you remember when we went out to sushi once? You started gagging you hated it so much.” She chuckled softly.

I smiled remembering the incident at the swanky Japanese restaurant on E. 43rd St.

“Yeah that was bad.” I laughed quietly. “What time is it there?”

“um, hang on, um, 3:46 p.m.” She told me.

“What did you do all day?” I asked her shivering from a cool breeze that went straight through my cardigan and skinny jeans.

“Well, you said that you were landing at 6:30ish in London time so I went out with Pete than came up here and worked on my book until you landed. I Googled the time difference.” She explained.

“You did that for me?” I asked her with mock surprise in my voice.

“Yes I did. See, I’m not an a*****e. You okay?” She asked me genuinely concerned.

“No” I told her “and you know it.”

I hadn’t meant to snap at her. I really hadn’t.

She was silent for a moment. I could almost see her thinking of what to say.

I was shocked at how easily the conversation turned for the worst.

“I don’t want to see you hurt, Dmitri I just, I just, I don’t know.” I heard sniffling. She was crying. “I want to help you. I want you to stop being so stupid.”

I didn’t say anything for a while. I stood there under the overhang watching the rainfall, finishing off a cigarette.

“I’m not being stupid. I’m living my life for the best.” I told her lying. We both knew I was lying.

“I just hate seeing you high.” She told me hanging up her phone.

“Yeah, me too.” I said even though she was already gone.

There was an incident back in November. Cora and me went to a party at one of our friend’s penthouse. It was huge. Everyone was either drunk, high, having sex, or at the very least smoking a cigarette. That was the first time I got high.

Flashback

“Dude, you have got to try this s**t.” Eric, a friend of mine from school shoved a package of white powder in my face.

“What is it?” I asked him already drunk off my a*s.

“Meth. It’s freaking amazing.” He handed it off to me.

“Sure.”

The next thing I knew everything was getting all trippy...

Cora was drunk…so drunk…If she remembered what actually happened that night, she would never speak to me again. Personally I don’t know how I remembered it.

Present

After sleeping for 8 hours, I felt a lot better. I was awake the entire plane ride into Moscow. It’d been 2 years since the last time I’d been here. I looked down at the lights of Moscow. I could see The Kremlin, and great Eastern Orthodox cathedrals. I forgot how beautiful it could be.

We landed at Moscow International Airport 14 minutes later. My uncle and my Grandmother greeted us. She looked like she hadn’t slept in about 3 days…She probably hadn’t.

Part of me wanted to go up and give her a hug. I’m really not the type to do that though. Physical affection between me and family members really didn’t happen. Her white hair was cut short and she had a perm. Her striking blue eyes stared at me, and her frail wrinkly self was wrapped in long, black shawl. It was a total sign of mourning. It almost broke my heart. Almost, but it still didn’t.

I stood there in my travel-wrinkled clothing. My hair was a mess of curls and most likely I didn’t smell to fresh. My Grandmother looked at me and probably wasn’t thrilled about how I looked. The last time she saw me, I weighed 185, and I was about 5’9. Now I weighed about 170 and I was about 6’1. I used to be short and built, now I’m tall and skinny. Sometimes I miss having muscles. I could tell that my Grandmother almost didn’t know who I was.

“Dmitri? My, you ‘ave gotten tall!” She observed speaking in broken English.

“Grandma, I speak Russian.” I told her in Russian taking her hand. She smiled at me.

“I always forget which of my Grandchildren can speak it and which can’t. I’m so glad that you can. You have gotten much to skinny! You really should eat more. And where is your coat? It is still winter in Moscow!”

I laughed silently to myself. I was what my grandmother needed, someone to worry about. She was probably beside herself because everyone was so worried about her, and asking her if she was okay. She needed to take care of someone to be able to move on. Not that moving on was always the best thing.

“Grandma, I forgot it in New York. I was going to buy a new one while we were over here.” I told her patting her hand.

“Well, than that is what we are going to do right now. I will not have this good-looking young man waltzing around Moscow catching his death.”

The next thing I knew I was being dragged through downtown Moscow. Throughout all the beauty and splendor of the ancient Russian city, there was poverty everywhere. It disgusted me. Not the poverty itself, just the fact that all the wealthy just turned up their noses like they weren’t human beings too that deserved dignity and respect.

It was freezing out here and snow was covering the ground. I couldn’t imagine what it was like to sleep out here on a regular basis. We past a beautiful, blond, teenager. She was dressed in a man’s overcoat holding a little boy in her arms. My grandmother didn’t even look at her. I felt ashamed that this was my family. I walked up to her.

“Hello, my name’s Dmitri, what’s yours?” I asked her sticking out my hand.

“Olga, and this is Vladimir, my brother.” Her blue eyes bore holes into my head. She looked shocked that anyone had even given her the time of day. Still, she smiled. She had a pretty smile. She looked so hungry. They both did.

My grandmother’s mouth was held open in an unashamed gape. So was my mother’s.

“Are you hungry?” I asked her already knowing the answer.

She nodded, ashamed. She looked down at her feet. I knew the only way that she and her brother ate was if she sold herself for sex. It was horrible. This beautiful girl had to sell herself to just to feed her brother. I hated Russia. Then again, it happened all the time in New York.

I reached into my wallet and pulled out a wad of Russian bills. I placed the wad in her hand and closed her fingers over them. She looked shocked.

“What do you want?” She scared what I’d ask for such a large sum.

“Nothing. Just take care of your brother.” I told her and walked away.

15 minutes later my grandmother regained enough composure to speak.

“Dmitri! Why did you do that?”

“We have so much, and they have so little…Why wouldn’t I do that? This beautiful girl has to sell herself for sex just to eat! It’s horrible!” I answered.

“You are a very compassionate boy.” She nodded. “Perhaps more compassionate than you should be.”

She brushed past me as we walked into the boutique. What was her problem? Why was it so wrong that I wanted to help others? I looked at my mother and she held her finger up to her lips. ‘We’ll talk later.’ She mouthed to me.

I shook my head, my thick hair shook with me. My mom went in with my grandmother. I stood outside and pulled out a cigarette. I leaned against the stonewall on the corner of the street. I sighed and took out my lighter. I watched to smoke come out of my nose. The people passed by me and didn’t give me second glance. I’m sure I looked out of place standing there without a coat on, but I was just chilling. Literally. I was dressed from head to toe American, but western fashions weren’t uncommon.

I looked at the streets at the wealthy Russian people dressed in furs and leather, laughed at myself. This was who I was. I was some spoiled rich kid who got everything he wanted. I hated myself.

Flashback

“Hey cutie…wanna come back to a room with me?” I asked my best friend through my trippiness.

“Sure.” She smiled.

The only reason she said that was because she was drunk. I led her back to one of the many bedrooms and my lips were on hers. My goal was to have sex. That apparently wasn’t her idea.

“NO!” She told me playfully when I stuck my hands up the skirt of her dress.

“Ah…come on…it’ll be fun!” I whispered against her neck.

“I said NO!” She said pushing on me slightly.

“Come on…” I whispered again.

“No.” She told me dead serious. She was pushing against me with all the force she had.

I didn’t say anything. I pushed her down on the bed and lifted up her dress.

I raped my best friend.

All she knows is that she got raped that night. She doesn’t know that it was me. I pray to God that she never does. That’s why she doesn’t wear anything but jeans, and tee shirts.

I got home that next morning thinking that I had scored big time. Pete came over about 4 p.m. By this time I was pretty sober.

“Dude, look at this video from the party last night.” He told me pulling his netbook out of his bag. “It’s of you. You raped some chick.”

His words struck like blow to the balls.

“No way.” I said shocked.

He pulled up the program and pressed play.

There I was, ugly a*s naked forcing myself onto a chick.

“NO!!!” She screamed.

“F**k you.” That’s all I said the whole time. I hurt her, hurt her, bit her, and hurt her. How could I do that to a woman? I know that I wasn’t exactly nice to everyone, but I never did this!

The video lasted only 2 minutes and 54 seconds, but that was the longest time period of my life. Pete looked at me.

“How many other people have this?” I asked him.

“Just me.” He said looking away from me. “I shot it.”

“Oh my god.” I put my head in my hands, and ran my long fingers through my hair. My tears made the red Syrian rug darker in little circles. “Why didn’t you f*****g stop me?”

“Dude, I was high, and drunk myself. I don’t even remember shooting this. But there it was this morning when I woke up on the floor of Andy’s penthouse.”

I realized something at that moment. I felt my gag reflex go. Oh my god I was going to rolf.

“Oh my F*****G GOD!” I screamed as I ran to the bathroom. I bent over the toilet and I puked and cried, and puked and cried.

Pete was standing behind me in the doorway.

“ It. Was. F*****g. Cora.” I managed to get out between sobs.

“I know.” He said.

“Than. Why. Didn’t. You. Tell. Me!” I said getting angry.

“You deserved it.” He said. “Cora is in the F*****G hospital right now. You freaking ripped her open, she had to get 3 stitches!” He turned away from me. He started to cry himself. He continued in a quieter voice. “You bit her so hard that it’s gonna leave scars! You’re a f*****g animal.”

I started to cry again, disgusted with myself. I stood up quickly and went over to the medicine cabinet. I threw it open. I knew that dad preferred to shave with an old-fashioned razor. It was sharp enough, it would do the trick. I grabbed it and had it to my jugular before Pete tackled me.

“Are you f*****g crazy?” He screamed wrestling the blade out of my hands. “You’re death isn’t going to solve anything, and it will just piss me off more.”

“What are you f*****g talking about? Cora is probably wishing that I was dead right now.” I screamed still trying to get the blade away from him.

He slapped me across the face. “Dude, shut the f**k up! She doesn’t f*****g know that it’s you!” He slapped me again.

I stopped wrestling with him. He got off of me. I laid on the Moroccan tile floor of the bathroom looking up him.

“How can she not know?” I whispered.

“She doesn’t remember his face.” He told me.

Present.

I was forced back into the present when my mother came outside. My cigarette had an ash about ½ an inch long. I dropped the cigarette on the ground and crushed it with my $3,000 dollar pair of boots. Why the hell did I own these?

“Dmitri, come on. We came here to get you a coat.” My mother told me.

I sighed and followed in. My grandmother was standing over by a rack of fur coats. I quickly went over by a rack of leather jackets. I pulled a large off it’s hanger and slipped in on. Sadly it hung shapeless over my slim frame. My height needed it this long, but it looked like I was swimming in it. My mom walked over to me.

“We can have it tailored.” She told me looking at the price tag. 26,887 rubles. She nodded. I know 26,887 rubles sounds like a lot, but it’s only about $900. Not bad.

“Mom, it fits okay. We’re only gonna be here for about a week and it takes at least that much time to get a coat tailored. Besides, I need a coat now.” I told her putting it back on the hanger.

My Grandmother came over and looked at the coat and nodded.

“It’s modern. I guess I figured you would prefer fur, but this is still nice.” She looked over at the young women behind the cash register. “We’ll take it.”

“Alright.” She smiled that fake smile that she was paid to smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After shopping my mom, Grandmother, and I went back to the manor where my grandparent lived in the winter. In a few weeks they would have been making a move to the Caspian Sea. Since Papa died, everything had been called off. The manor was a beautiful mansion built in the late 1700’s, set off a ways into the woods outside of Moscow. Despite it’s beauty, it felt cold to look at it. It didn’t have the homey feel that it needed.

I walked in the front door and took in the glamour of it all. In the foyer there were 2 staircases heading up from the door in a curved grace leading up to the second floor. It was late and dinner would be soon. Dinner here was a grand affair, and I really needed to get dressed up for it. Joy…

I went upstairs, and then up another flight to the third floor. I walked down the long hallway all the way to end. There was a small set of stairs and I was in the tower, my bedroom here. It was a smaller room, a lot smaller than my bedroom at home, but I didn’t need a huge room. It was almost completely round and the walls were all windows except the back wall with 3 doors. The door to the hallway, the closet, and the bathroom, which I shared with the adjoining room. Though, nobody wanted to stay on the third floor. Everyone found it creepy. I liked it though. It was quiet, and I had my privacy.

The closet door was open, and hanging on a hook was my suit and a blue shirt, freshly pressed. Cool. Maids rock. At home we had a cleaning lady that came in once a week. Grandmother had live-in maids….awesome. I got dressed in my three-piece suit, and a light blue shirt. I put on fedora to cover my unruly hair. Sweet. I put on a silver pocket-watch, which I thought looked cool. It gave me some old world charm. I headed down the ungodly amount of stairs to the drawing room. My dad was sitting on the couch drinking some vodka, in his own three-piece suit, only wearing green.

I sat down next to him, and poured my own shot. It cleared my head a bit. My dad looked at me.

“What? I’m 18. You can legally drink here at 14!” I said defending myself.

“I know. I wasn’t going to say anything about that.” He replied in his low voice. “I was just going to ask how you were handling all of this.”

“Oh. Pretty well. I mean not that Papa dying is a good thing, but I think that I’m doing a good job of handling it.”

He nodded. My mother walked into the drawing room in an emerald green floor length dress. Her mounds of curly hair were piled on top of her head. She looked good. (Hey, I’m allowed to say that about my mom okay?) My grandmother walked in wearing a black one. My aunts followed in wearing an assortment of different colors, and their husbands wearing the same color of shirt.

I knew I would be escorting someone to dinner, and my guess it would be the one in blue. My 16-year-old cousin walked in wearing a light blue dress. Well I guess it’s Anya. She was pretty, blond-haired, blue-eyed, and we got along pretty well. My Aunt Nastasia was her mother. Anya was technically a British citizen and she spoke English with a British accent. She was also an honor student at one of the top British schools. She was super smart.

“Ah, Dmitri, the man w***e.” She said in English quietly. I laughed silently. She is so predictable. I smiled at her and flashed white toothy smile in my direction.

Flashback

Later that day when Pete finally calmed me down enough, he took me to see her. In the back of my head, I knew that when I saw her face, I would cry.

Pete and I got to her room, her parents just left. She was sitting there in a hospital gown looking small and innocent. I almost turned and ran, but I didn’t. She was reading her favorite book Jane Eyre . She looked up at me. For a second I thought that she remembered that it was me. Oh my god. I said in the back of my head.

Her face was covered in bruises, and there was this huge bite mark on her neck. I did that to her…I thought.

I started to cry. She looked up at me, and there were tears in her eyes as well. I took her hand.

“I’m so sorry that I didn’t stop it. I wish I had.” I told her not able to make eye contact.

“It’s okay.” She said patting my hand with her other one.

“No it’s f*****g not.” I said grabbing my hand back and running out of the room.

I didn’t stop running until I was on the subway.

I got up to my penthouse and I collapsed on the coach in sobs. What I didn’t realize was that my father was home early. I never cried in front of him. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t let me cry. Neither of my parents had been like that. I just didn’t like to cry.

“Dmitri? Are you alright?” My father Alexi, came around the corner of the hallway, still in a shirt and tie.

I quickly sat up and tried to compose myself. Dad sat down next to me. “маленький кролик, (little rabbit) what is wrong?” He asked me using a childhood nickname I hadn’t heard in so many years. I laughed darkly. My father looked at me like I was crazy. Well, that’s not entirely off. He put his hand on my shoulder. I shrank away