The fuck vibe

“It’s not funny! Seriously, Merrick, he pointed a gun at me.”

Merrick doubles over. He’s laughing so hard his face is red and tears stream down his cheeks. I stand on a small platform in his studio on the top floor of his house while sunlight streams in through the big windows, and I’m thinking about murdering him.

“You have no idea how close you just came to getting killed,” he says, wiping his face, his other hand pressed to his stomach like he’s holding himself together.

“Great, thanks, I just exposed myself to a stranger and you’re cracking up like it’s the funniest thing you’ve heard all week. It’s not a joke!”

“Okay, okay, you’re right, sweetie, it’s not a joke.” Merrick’s grin suggests he most certainly does not mean what he’s saying.

“Who is that guy anyway? He had one of your paintings hanging on his wall.”

“Oh, you know, just an extremely scary and powerful member of a large multi-national organized crime family.” He says this while looking at his nails as if he was describing a new polish color he bought recently.

I cover myself with my arms.

For the second time today, I’m totally naked.

“Sorry, what now? Did you say organized crime?”

“That’s the rumor, anyway. Told you, you came extremely close to getting whacked just now. Then again, I wouldn’t mind getting whacked by Valentin Zaitsev.”

Valentin. So that’s the man’s name. His deep blue eyes and full lips play through my mind, and I’m uncomfortably aware of my nudity.

“How do you know he’s in the mafia?”

“Bratva,” Merrick corrects. “That’s what the Russians call it, anyway. And I’m not totally sure, that’s just the rumor. He’s got a shitload of money, keeps some really shady hours, and doesn’t seem to have a real job. I don’t know, seems pretty plausible to me.”

I start to pace. Merrick murmurs something and sketches as I move.

“Okay, great, so I just barged into a Russian gangster’s house and flashed him. That’s probably bad, right?”

“You’ll be fine, don’t worry. I mean, look at you. He probably liked it.”

I pause and frown into space. He was giving me an extremely sexy and serious look.

But I don’t feel like I’m anything special.

I’m lean from years of running track and cross country, and my boobs aren’t particularly big. I keep my hair too long and I really could use a manicure. I’m not even wearing any makeup right now—Merrick wanted me totally natural.

Still, the look Valentin gave me…

“No, definitely not.” I start pacing again. “You don’t aim a gun at naked girls if you’re into them.”

“I don’t know. He definitely gives off a fuck-then-murder kind of vibe.”

“That’s a vibe?”

“Sweetie, it’s very much a vibe.”

I shiver and shake my head. Merrick doesn’t know how little experience I have with men, and I decide that I don’t feel like enumerating my total lack of sexual history while standing butt naked in front of him.

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I don’t plan on ever seeing your neighbor again.”

“Unfortunately for me, Mr. Gorgeous happens to enjoy investing in art, and he likes throwing a lot of cash around.” Merrick taps his lips with the end of his brush. “Actually, those are my favorite qualities in a man. Rich and willing to pay me. Now, keep pacing like that, I’m liking this movement and the light’s just right, but stop talking.”

I flip him off and do as he says, strutting around in the nude, and thinking about his dangerous and gorgeous neighbor, who I am definitely, absolutely never, ever going to see again.

It’s amazing how quickly I’m wrong.

I’m back home a few days later after a lunch shift at Stove and Smoke. The tips were few and far between but at least I got to pick up some extra hours, which I’ve been bugging my manager, Jared, about for weeks now.

Any money is good money at this point.

I find a stack of bills on the kitchen table. Electric and water mostly, though a few from the credit card company are thrown in there. We gave up on cable and internet a while ago and rely on our phones to get access to the outside world. Which is another bill I need to pay soon.

Mom’s not home. She went over to the church for her usual Thursday evening Mahjong socializing event where all the old ladies get together to talk shit about all the other old ladies that aren’t present. It’s one of the few activities that doesn’t cost money and gets her out of the house, so I’m all for it.

I start on dinner. There’s not much in the cupboards. The refrigerator is equally depressing. But at least there are potatoes, some olive oil, and a big box of salt. That’s enough to make some halfway decent French fries.

As I’m peeling and slicing, there’s a knock at the door.

I freeze and look at the time. It’s almost six in the evening. Who the heck would show up right now? I imagine a neighbor, freaking out because Mom’s hurt or something; or worse, a debt collector here to serve us with some kind of court papers. I wash my hands and think about pretending like I’m not home when there’s another knock at the door, and this time, a voice.

“I know you’re in there, Karine. I just want to talk.”

My jaw drops straight to the floor.

It’s him. Valentin. I’d recognize that voice anywhere.

Mostly because it’s been playing through my head on an endless loop ever since I last saw him.

But no, this is crazy, there’s no way he’s at my door right now. I don’t remember telling the guy my name, much less my freaking address.

“Karine, I can hear you breathing.” He sounds like he’s amused, which freaks me out. I clap my hands over my mouth. “And I heard that too. Open the door. I have something I wish to discuss with you.”

“Uh, sorry, I’m busy,” I say and mentally curse myself. I’m busy? Seriously? That’s just about the lamest excuse imaginable.

“If you’re fresh out of the shower, it’s not like I haven’t seen it before. Open up, Karine, before I force it open.”

I let out a sharp, surprised laugh, and storm over. He’s standing on the stoop in his black suit looking like sex and hell and death and heaven, a little stubble on his cheeks, his dark hair pushed back, his piercing blue eyes startling in their intensity. I’m about to tell him off, but all my anger fades.

I honestly forgot how insanely attractive he is.

“Oh, good, you have clothes on.” He brushes past me and into the house. I wheel around, slamming the door behind me.

“What the hell are you doing here? How did you even find me?”

He ignores my questions and looks around. I’m very aware of how shabby it must look to him, especially compared to his place. I share a South Philly row home with my mother, the same home she’s been in since before I was born. It’s old, not in particularly good shape, and all our furniture and decorations are from second-hand stores.

Back when Dad was alive, the place was spotless. He always tutted at Mom and said she’d end up like a hoarder as he straightened everything up and vacuumed under the carpet.

Dad wasn’t totally wrong. The place is much more cluttered than it used to be. But I think that’s partially because Mom fell apart after he died, and I’ve been left here trying to pick up her pieces.

“Are these your parents?” Valentin lifts an old photograph of Mom and Dad. They’re sitting together in Baltimore, the city where they first met, with the harbor in the background. Both of them look so happy and young.

I grab it from his hand and put the picture back. “You didn’t answer my questions.”

“I assume this is your brother, Luka.” He nods at a picture of Luka when he was six years old wearing a soccer uniform and beaming out from underneath his floppy black hair. “I don’t see any of you though.”

“I’m not photogenic. Did you come here to go through old family pictures or something?”

“Strange, that you wouldn’t be included.” He glances at me, eyebrows knitted.

“How did you know my brother’s name, anyway?” I’m tempted to scream at him, but I’m also too afraid of what he might do.

Valentin’s handsome, but he’s also big. He looms over me and his arms are the size of my head. He could crush my skull with one massive hand if he wanted to. And I remember what Merrick said: a fuck-then-murder kind of vibe.

He’s not wrong about that.

Right now, I’m a little bit more worried about the murder.

But only by a little bit.

He turns away from the pictures and sits down at the kitchen table. “Join me,” he says, again with that commanding tone.

I remain standing. “I didn’t invite you in here. You’re a total stranger. If this is about the mix-up from the other day⁠—”

“I’m here to offer you a job.”

That shuts me up. I grind my jaw, frustrated, but he’s only staring at me with a strange, neutral expression, almost like he’s bored. Like he barges into strange houses all the time.

“What kind of job?” I ask cautiously. “And who says I need one?”

“I assume you weren’t posing for Merrick for free. And something about you suggests that was your first time. Which, if I can follow the logic, suggests you need money. Am I wrong?”

I open my mouth and shut it again. I say nothing, only glare at him. I’m beyond furious, and honestly a little embarrassed again, but he’s absolutely right.

I really need money.

The stack of bills in the middle of the table isn’t really helping much right now.

“The girl Nikkita mentioned,” he starts, and I interrupt him.

“Your housekeeper, right? She said you were waiting for someone named Natalya?”

Valentin’s eyes narrow. He tenses and leans closer. “Please, do not interrupt me again.”

I gape, shocked at his sudden dark turn, but the look he’s giving me shuts my mouth again. The guy has a stare like an atomic bomb, like he’s contemplating how he can most easily eviscerate me.

Either that or how quickly he can tear off my clothes.

Murder and fuck vibe.

God damn it, Merrick. I hate him for putting that in my head.

“Are you going to pull a gun on me again if I do?” I blurt it out despite my fear, and I’m not sure which of us is more surprised.