“How do you know my name?” He asks, catching her off guard.
She stammers, cutting her eyes trying to find an answer. “It’s on your pass.”
He turns his pass around, revealing no name.
She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.
“You there?” he snaps her out of it.
“Yes. Sorry. Long night.” She gave him the most apologetic look.
“I can only imagine what your life is like.”
“Hell.” She answered honestly.
“What?” he asks naively, trying to instill trust. “You called me by my name. I want to know how is that possible.”
“Just a guess” she shrugged as if it was no big deal while looking at her security detail, who’s now looking in their direction.
“Ok. I see.” He knew that this line of questioning was not going anywhere. He looks around to see if anyone is close enough to hear him before deeply looking into her eyes. “If you are in some kind of trouble, I can help.” He whispers.
“No one can help me,” She states, looking down while fidgeting with a bag of makeup. She looks up at him. “There’s something you don’t know about this business.”
“and that is?” he asks, trying to dig deeper.
“I just want to go home,” She deflects the conversation.
“Why don’t you just quit? Pack your shit and tell them you’re done.”
“One more day.”
“What does that mean? What’s one more day? You have to talk to me.” He said, growing frustrated with her half-answers.
“I’m sorry,” She whispers.
“Why did you fake your death?” Dontae knew he was treading on dangerous territory. She starts to move a bit slower, her face loses its color, and she goes quiet.
“You okay?” He asks, trying to look into her eyes, which were now closed.
“I'm fine.” Still whispering but now quieter, she grabs his hand. “Meet me at 6 pm tomorrow at The St. Regis Atlanta room 1306. I’ll explain everything then.”
At that moment, an older white woman explodes into the room. Her red pantsuit shined bright, projecting pure power. Her steps were clunky and hard and echoed almost as big as her attitude. Almost. Her thick black hair was pulled back in a severe bun, and her cold dark eyes were dead set on Rochelle. Dontae only needed one guess as to who she was.
Ω
Salvita Mikhailov stood in the cold at Leningradskiy Railway Station, her arms freezing as she rubs them, trying to create heat from friction. Her large coat was left in the closet during her haste to remove herself from “today’s confrontation,” leaving her with a thin sleeve shirt her mother had brought for her birthday. She had become accustomed to the constant squabbles between her and Sarkis. This was their tenth anniversary, and he had started the day with his usual breakfast; Vodka with a side of punching her in the face. She had planned to leave after the next beating by preparing a train ticket from Moscow to Latvia, where an ex she had been communicating with lived. He had told her that she deserved better, and she didn’t have to take the shit from that asshole. Salvita wanted a traditional family, but Sarkis changed his mind after they were married. He didn’t want kids, and soon after he lost his job, his drinking became uncontrollable. Her mom always warned her. “Он убьет тебя, если ты не уйдешь!” She would say.
Salvita vowed to stick it out, and she did. For ten long years, she took care of him and the household, but it was too much. She was broken. She’d run across Sergei in a market while she was visiting family in Riga. Immediately she recognized him. Even though he had grown an impressive beard, she couldn’t forget that smile. She couldn’t remember precisely why they had broken up, but she was sure it was her fault. She was so wild and crazy, and she didn’t take life very seriously when they were dating. That day at the market, he had flirted with her, and she gave him the number to her office. For weeks they talked, and she found out that he was single and focused on his career. She told him about Sarkis and the abuse and how she wanted a way out. As their conversations grew more intense and sexual, she decided that he was the one that could make all of her dreams come true. Besides, if he can make her feel good just talking during work hours, imagine how good she will feel next to him for a lifetime. Her husband controlled the bank account and knew exactly how much her salary was, so it was very difficult to hide money. Sergei never offered to buy the ticket, but she didn’t mind. Most likely, he didn’t want to make her feel pressured. Either way, she devised a plan. She started buying regular household items and returning them for a refund. She would then put that money in a secret account with the statements going to an email that he didn’t know about. Today was the day. She finally drove up enough nerve to leave. She had enough money to last a few days, and she knew that Sergei would take care of her until she could get on her feet. During the entire train ride, she dreamed of how it would be. She was older but not too old to have children, and they both wanted them.
The train pulled into the station at about midnight. She tried to reach Sergei, but his phone went directly to voicemail. She didn’t take a second thought knowing it was late, and even though he knew what time the train was scheduled to arrive, she thought maybe he had fallen asleep. She hailed a taxi and started her trip just outside of the city where his house was located. She had memorized the address because she didn’t want to take the chance of having it written or even on her phone. Upon arrival,
