Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 177397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 887(@200wpm)___ 710(@250wpm)___ 591(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 177397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 887(@200wpm)___ 710(@250wpm)___ 591(@300wpm)
“You can use this while I get dressed.”
He hands me a phone that is as dated as the carpet in his living room before he heads for the sole bedroom.
Mercifully, I know Nikita’s number by heart, so it is the first number I call.
“Hello,” she answers, her tone ripe with suspicion.
“Hey—”
Her relieved breath cuts me off before a heap of words. “Z… You scared me half to death. I thought someone was calling to say you’d been hurt. I’m still your first point of contact, right? I was tracking the bus’s route, so I know you only got home ten minutes ago, but you weren’t answering your phone, so I panicked and—”
“Breathe, Nikita,” I demand when the exhausted whistle of her lungs whizzes through my ears. When she does as asked, I say, “I was helping a fellow passenger. She…”—when I realize my reply will never see me walking the streets of Myasnikov alone again, I alter it—“was a little groggy after a long day, so I walked with her to make sure she got home safely.”
“Aww.” Since she can’t see me, she believes my lie. Her truth-seeking talents aren’t as capable over the phone. “That was really kind of you, but I hope you didn’t get too close. Multiple cases of gastroenteritis were reported today at Myasnikov Private. It is highly contagious.”
“Yippee. No diet for me this month.”
She groans before her smarts kick back on long enough to put me on the back foot. “Whose phone are you using? Your number didn’t come up.”
“Ah…” This lie takes me a little longer to summon than its predecessors. “My building sup’s.”
“Zoya! If I find out you’re paying your rent by—”
A shocked scoff helms my interruption. “My phone went flat, so he let me use his so you wouldn’t worry.”
She swallows harshly before pushing out the quickest apology. “I’m sorry.”
“As you should be.” I could leave it there, but that would make my life more boring than it has been the past two weeks. “I stopped turning tricks for coins months ago.”
“Z…” What should be a stubborn snap is more a whiny groan.
“I’m joking.” It’s more years than months. “But you can make up for your insult by doing me a favor.”
“Anything,” she immediately answers, announcing why she will always be my best friend.
“In the box you mentioned earlier is a bill with a phone number scribbled across it. Can you tell me what that number is?”
You shouldn’t be able to hear someone’s brain ticking over a million miles an hour. I can. But since Nikita will always be more inquisitive than she is stubborn. She doesn’t grill me about the extra cash in her cardboard box safe until after she’s flipped off its lid.
“Z, there has to be an extra three thousand dollars in here.” Ruffling sounds down the line before she asks, “Where did you get this money from?”
“It doesn’t matter—”
“It does matter,” she interrupts, shouting. “I can’t accept it.”
I’m on the defense immediately. “You can and you will. It isn’t up for negotiation. Grampies is my grandfather too, so it isn’t solely your responsibility to look after him.”
She wants to argue, but since it would break my heart, she remains quiet.
“So can you please get me the number on one of the bills so I can make sure I can keep contributing?”
My voice is on the verge of cracking, and I’m not the only one noticing. Its husky wobble is the sole reason Nikita agrees to my demand with the faintest snivel.
After many rustles, she asks, “Do you have a pen?”
I nod like she can see me.
She must hear its whoosh, as she recites Mikhail’s number without additional prompting.
I read it back to her to make sure I have it correct before whispering, “Please don’t be mad at me.”
I won’t survive another rejection, especially not from her. She is using her studies to become something great. I can’t even get a job at McDonalds.
My heart stops being strangled when Nikita replies, “I’m not mad. I love you, Z.”
“I love you too, Keet.” With my voice holding too many emotions, I cut our chat short. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
She reminds me it is already tomorrow before advising me she will call me before her upcoming double shift. “Bye.”
“Bye.”
I wait for her to disconnect our call before lifting my eyes to my new building supervisor. He’s dressed and looking somewhat relieved—until I say, “Can I please make one more call? It’ll be quick.”
His eyes lower to the number I scribbled across my palm before he licks his lips. “Sure. That’s fine.” He nudges his head to the kitchen. “I’ll make some coffee.”
“I’m fine, thanks. I don’t drink caffeine this early.”
He mumbles something about it not being for me before he disappears into the poky kitchen.
I dial Mikhail’s number I need to memorize since my sweaty hands are already smudging the digits.