| |
Alyssa
The next few weeks flew by in a blur. Russell and I developed a nice little routine: he spent his time taking care of his business, and I spent mine making nice with Annie, Emma, Martina, and the rest of the girls who I eventually met in the LA wives’ scene. It was strange to be shopping and lunching while Russell was out possibly risking his neck—not to mention his freedom—but he was quick to set me straight when I expressed my doubts.
“Your work is just as important as mine,” he said. “When you’re out there with the girls you’re networking, making connections, and ensuring that we blend well into the scene here.”
“Still,” I said. “I just feel like I’m, I don’t know, being lazy.”
“You’re not,” he said. “Other people need to see that I’ve got a beautiful woman like you taken care of. And if it helps, you’re still my property; you don’t need to feel good about the orders that I give you.”
He said this with a little flash of a smile, and I took it in the spirit it was intended.
Thought I felt a little too much like a pampered princess at times, he was right that I was doing some difficult work. Not all of the girls I met were as accommodating as Annie, Emma, and Martina—some, especially the ones getting a little up there in years, viewed a girl like me as a threat, possibly even competition for their men’s attention. There was a lot of personality managing, not to mention keeping track of the ever-shifting landscape of rivalries that some of these girls maintained with one other. It seemed like every outing I found out about some new little spat a pair of the girls was having, usually over some perceived slight about one stupid thing or another.
The four of us stuck together, doing our best to stay out the drama. And, for the most part, it worked. I was happy to have a handful of women that I could call friends, and they proved to be beyond helpful in planning the party that Russell and I were throwing at the end of our month here, which was quickly arriving.
And the party ...
Once Russell confirmed a couple weeks into our time in LA that everything on his end was going well, he gave me the go-ahead to start getting the party set up. I had no idea what I was doing, having never done anything like this before, but Russell did his part by handing me that heavy metal black card of his and telling me that price wasn’t an issue.
So, I went headlong into it. With the help of the girls, I organized the catering, the music, the booze, and the décor. LA was quite the party scene, so there was no shortage of companies who were more than happy to get me taken care of, especially when I ever-so-obviously let them lay eyes on Russell’s black card. The first few days of planning were a whirlwind, but eventually, everything started to come together. This thing was starting to look like it was really going to happen. Sure, I still had hosting duties to worry about, but I decided not to worry about that until the day of.
And things between Russell and I took an interesting turn. After that first little dinner of ours, I began making it a routine that I’d make a little something for the two of us just about every night. He’d send me a text letting me know that he’d be home in an hour or so, and I’d pick out a recipe for something good on the Internet that used whatever ingredients I had on hand or could run out and pick up. Then he’d come back to a home-cooked meal and when we were done eating we’d enjoy a little wine on the balcony before heading inside to do ... other things.
It was strange; despite the circumstances of my living situation, I was starting to develop something of a wifely routine. I was spending my days with my girlfriends, doing a little shopping after, then coming home to tend to the house and prepare dinner. I might have been the property of an international criminal, but our home was starting to approach something close to domestic bliss.
As odd as it sounds, I couldn’t help but wonder how Cory was doing. Sure, he was a drug-addict low-life, but he was the brother of the man who I was starting to care for. Every now and then I’d get the urge to ask Russell if he’d heard anything from him, or if he’d checked up on Cory, but I knew better than to meddle in his affairs like that. Every so often, however, I’d witness him receive a text which, upon reading, would result in a narrow-eyed, frustrated expression forming on Russell’s face before he shoved his phone back into his pocket. I didn’t know if it was Cory, but something told me it was.
Eventually, the day of the party arrived. My phone alarm went off, and when I sat up to check it, a strange feeling came over me. It was an instant, overwhelming feeling of nausea that forced me out of bed and rushing to the toilet. Russell had already gotten up, so I didn’t worry about making too much noise as I knelt in front of the bowl and yakked up whatever was giving me trouble. The nausea went as quickly as it came, and I found myself wondering what I could’ve eaten that had disagreed with me so much.
Then I had a thought. Was I ... pregnant?
Russell and I had been having our fun on a pretty regular basis, and we didn’t use protection every time. My mind raced for a moment before I calmed myself down.
Worry about this later, I told myself. You’ve got the evening of your life coming up—no room for distractions.
This served to calm me down a bit. And it was true that I didn’t have any mental space to worry about anything but the day ahead.
I showered and dressed, checking my phone on the way downstairs to see that my screen was full of text messages and email alerts from the girls and the various services that I’d hired for the night. The girls wanted to know what time to start coming by to help, and the services all wanted final confirmation. My fingers were a flurry as I responded to everyone while pacing around the kitchen. Once everything was settled, I allowed myself a few moments of calm.
You can do this, I told myself. Easy peasy.
Over the course of the day the house became a flurry of activity. The party planners decorated the first floor, the caterers set up the food, and the jazz band that I’d booked showed up to begin preparing. And the girls helped me out when they could, reminding me of odds and ends that I’d forgotten. Once all of the services had arrived, the four of us went out to have our hair and makeup done. By the time we were all done up, I was feeling a little better about the whole thing. We headed back to the house and started putting on our evening party clothes. My dress on, my hair done, and my makeup applied, I took a deep breath while looking in the mirror.
It was time to start.
The four of us headed down the stairs, where Russell was waiting. He was dressed in an impossibly stylish dark blue suit and a pair of sleek black dress shoes. His thick, dark hair was slicked backward, and his beautiful face was shaved clean. A glass of whiskey in his hand, he looked so gorgeous that I could barely think.
“Evening, ladies,” he said to the four of us.
Annie, Emma, and Martina all started tittering and giggling at the sight of Russell, their faces turning the same shade of deep red.
“Um, good to see you, Russell,” said Annie, her typically boisterous tone now a little hushed.
The other girls said their hellos in similar bashful ways, and I couldn’t help but feel a little pride at the fact that they were obviously having a hard time dealing with just how stunning Russell was. And to tell the truth, so was I.
“Now’s not the time for standing around,” he said in a stern voice. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
I nodded, and the four of us went to work taking care of the last few details, the house now abuzz with all of the service staff. Eventually, the hour arrived, and so did the first guests. I watched nervously through one of the front windows as the first handfuls of luxury cars and limos arrived, the valets hurrying to take the cars off of their wealthy owner’s hands.
I positioned myself by the front door to greet the first few guests. With a warm smile and gracious words, I welcomed them to the house.
For a time, only a dozen or so partygoers were there, and part of me was worried that the whole thing would be a bust. But that fear was quickly dashed when as the next hour went on and car after car arrived, the house filling with guests. Soon, the place was nearly packed.
Music played, drinks were served, and the party was on.
“You did good,” said Russell, standing at my side as we watched the bustle of activity. “Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves so far.”
“Hopefully the night finishes as well as it started,” I said.
“Oh,” said Russell, that sly smile of his appearing on his face. “I have a feeling it will.”
I couldn’t help but blush.
“Now,” he said. “Grab a glass of wine and do the rounds. Be as good as a hostess as I know you can be.”
“Go team,” I said, lifting a glass off of a passing tray and raising it to Russell.
We clinked our drinks and headed off to do our thing. I began walking through the party to make my rounds, raising my drink to my lips as I did. But before I could take a sip, a thought occurred to me, one of the nausea that had gripped me this morning. The same invasive thought came into mind.
Was I pregnant?
I stared down into the glass of ruby red wine, wondering if I should take a sip. I knew it was foolishness—after all, a sip wouldn’t do anything—but I couldn’t help but feel as though I were doing something wrong.
I’ll think about this later, I told myself. For now, I’ll just keep this as a prop.
Wine in hand, I wove my way through the party, chatting with the various guests. I did my routine, charming the men and wrapping them around my little finger, flirting as I needed to and making them feel special in the way that I knew they wanted to feel. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the girls watching me carefully. I didn’t know what to think—did they now consider me competition? This in mind, I made sure to keep away from the men who they were attached to; I didn’t need to be turning friends into enemies tonight.
Eventually, I made my way to them.
“Quite the little hostess, you are,” said Emma. “You’re leaving a trail of very powerful men in your wake with one thing on their minds.”
“Just making them feel welcome,” I said.
“Indeed you are,” said Martina with a grin.
I couldn’t help but let my insecurities gush forth.
“Am I being too much?” I asked. “I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes.”
Annie placed her hand on my shoulder a reassuring way.
“Calm down, lady,” she said. “You’re fine. We all have to play the flirt-and-run game; that’s our job. And you’re doing an amazing job at it.”
“And,” said Emma, “you’re paying attention to rule number one—don’t flirt with our men.”
We all shared a laugh, and I felt much better.
Returning to the party, I went about my rounds again. As I met the various guests, I realized that my party was a who’s who of men in the “industry” here. Far from being an afterthought of a party, this little soiree was the event of the evening. And with each man I charmed, I felt a more confident. By the time the late hours set in, I felt like I could take on the world.
Eventually, the small hours of the morning arrived, and the party started to thin out. I made another round through the place, saying my goodbyes to everyone whom I’d met. Around two, the band wound down and the last few handfuls of partygoers filed out. Soon, it was just Russell and me.
“That went better than I could’ve hoped,” he said, pouring himself a half glass of wine from one of the many bottles that we’d ordered for the evening.
“You think so?” I asked.
“I do. I made some good connections, and you looked even more like a natural fit for everything. You and I needed to make a big entrance to LA, and this party was just the thing to do it. People are going to be talking about this shindig for months.”
My heart warmed at that.
“Let’s relax on the balcony before heading to bed.”
I smiled and nodded, ready for a little quiet. Once we were outside, no sound but the ocean waves gently crashing ashore, I began to calm down from the state of heightened tension that I’d been in most of the night.
“Something wrong with the wine?” asked Russell as he sat next to me, his arm wrapped around my shoulders.
I looked down at my glass, realizing that it was the same one that I’d poured at the beginning of the night.
“Oh, no,” I said. “I guess I got so wrapped up in the evening that I forgot to drink.”
Russell gave me a look that suggested he didn’t entirely believe what I was telling him. But he let the matter lie.
“Back to New York in a couple of days,” he said.
I was silent for a moment, reflecting on how fast the last month had gone.
“Feels like we just got here,” I said.
“That’s how this business goes,” said Russell. “You get off the plane somewhere and before you know it, you’re right back on. All I can say is get used to it.”
“Oh?”
Russell nodded.
“Like I said, we’re going to be doing a lot of business between here and New York. But that’s not all. I’ve got my eye on major expansions internationally. Moscow, London, Paris—if all goes according to plan, I’ll be operating out of those places and more. And you right along with me.”
Despite the illegal nature of his work, I couldn’t help but feel a little thrill at jet-setting across the globe, Russell at my side.
“But that’s enough business for one night,” he said, finishing his drink. “Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to hit the hay.”
“My thoughts exactly,” I said, a naughty smile forming on my lips.