Naomi & Bradley, Reality Shows... (Vodka & Vice, the Series Book 3) (2 page)

BRADLEY

Friday, February 18th

When Chase appears, I almost don’t recognize him.  He’s decked out in what I think is a Stanley Korshak suit and expensive-looking loafers.  He says this ludicrous thing about Naomi being his half-sister.  Right out of the gate.  There’s no way.  If it were true, he would have told her earlier, right?  I mean, why keep something like that from her?  I slip my arm around her like Chase is going to snatch her away.  She’s full of the same questions I’m asking, but he ignores them.  Then it gets weirder.  I hear a voice from my childhood calling out from the living room.

“Bradley Dobrov, Naomi Swanson, what are you doing out there?  Show them in Chase.”

My heart is beating a hole through my shirt.  I tighten my grip on Naomi’s waist as Chase bows and motions us through.  What does he want?  A tip?  I move forward both wanting to see and not wanting to.

It can’t be,
I think,
after all these years.  I thought he was killed in that massacre out in Brooklyn.  1987, ‘88 maybe. 
But sure enough, as we enter the room I see him:  Fedor Slotzky, Viktor’s father.  He comes at us like a tidal wave and wraps his big bear paws around us.  I’m not sure what Naomi is thinking as she endures his double cheek kisses.  Next thing I know, he sniffing her hair.  I’m in shock.  It’s like being hugged by a ghost.  Naomi shoots me her patented, ‘what the fuck’ look, but all I can do is say hello, like I’m back in middle school. 

He starts going on and on about Viktor marrying Naomi so I set him straight.

“That’s not happening now,” I inform him.

As though I didn’t say anything, no, as though I’m not even there, the whole group of black suited men surrounds Naomi.  They shove glasses of amber liquid into our hands and toast our good health in Russian.  I’m not drinking any of it.  For all I know, it’s poisoned.  I check Naomi, who must be thinking the same thing.  As the men clap each other on the back and refill each other’s drinks, a small figure slips out from the shadows.  A glass is raised, diamond-encrusted Patek-Philippe Twenty 4 watch glittering in the firelight.  I’d recognize it anywhere.

“To the high-rise building over on Chambers Street, to Carl Swartz for making it happen, and to Naomi who’s going to help finance the entire project!  To Naomi, my niece!”

LaLa glides into our little circle and up to Naomi, who has gone pale as the whey protein I put in my shakes.  She takes Naomi’s face in her tiny hands, a single emerald-cut diamond on her left ring finger. 

“Oh my dear, I’ve waited so long to meet you.  You are the absolute portrait of your mother.  I’m so sorry she kept you from me all these years.”

I’m pretty sure my girl’s about to pass out, so I take control of the situation.

“LaLa!  What’s going on here?  Can’t you see you’re scaring her?”

I take Naomi by the arm and pull her from LaLa’s grip and the tight circle of Russian clones.  They step aside and I catch Naomi just as she faints. 

Mr. Slotzky is suddenly all business.  He barks orders for cold cloths and ice water.  Everyone scatters like cockroaches after a light is switched on.  A man materializes out of nowhere carrying a doctor’s bag and pries Naomi’s lids open, shines a pen light on the pupil, takes her pulse.  He nods to LaLa.

“It will all be fine, Bradley.  The doctor assures me she has only fainted, and she will probably come to in a few minutes.  It may be that she’s not eaten enough today.”

“You got all that from a nod?”

“Some of it.  You see, her mother used to faint quite a bit as well, usually more if she was slimming down for some big event.”

Cold cloths arrive and are placed on Naomi’s head.  I concentrate on patting her shoulder, whispering her name.  I need her to be here with me, pronto.  The room has gone quiet as we wait.  It’s so quiet, that when the elevator doors open we all turn at once. 

“KuKu!  What did they do to you?”  Viktor comes bounding into the room like a Siberian Husky and kneels down next to Naomi.  He doesn’t seem to notice me.

“Hello,
Viktor
,” I say with as much disdain as I can muster.  I’m about to lay into him when Naomi comes to.  Her eyes go wide as manhole covers at the sight of Viktor’s big head hovering over hers.  I squeeze her hand twice, one of our signals.  She looks over at me.

“Take me home, Bradley.  I’ve had enough.”

NAOMI

Friday, February 18th

The armed forces of the Russian Federation surround me.  I feel like the city of Berlin in 1945.  I wave my arms around, hoping they’ll all understand the sign language and back up, but they hover over me like aircraft and I clear my throat and say, “Please move back, I can’t breathe.”

My beautiful Bradley helps me up and the cold compress drops to the floor with an icy thump.  I look around.  Chase, the mastermind of our breakup, Viktor my past lover and roomie, LaLa my newly found aunt, and a strange man who I suppose to be Viktor’s father.  I eye the other two dark figures and they step even closer and say, “Aleksey and Luka Slotzky, we are Viktor’s brothers.  Happy to meet you Naomi.  Welcome to the family.”

“No, you can’t leave yet,” gushes LaLa.  She pushes through the man throng and hugs me.  She smells divine, her skin still soft, and smooth against my cheek.  “We must talk, come with me.”

Taking my hand, and refusing my refusal, LaLa leads me to a pale golden chair by the fireplace and gently pushes me down.  I look around for Bradley, and sigh with relief to see him standing behind me.  He places his hands on my shoulders, leans down, and asks, “Hey, you okay?”

I look up, into those crystal blue eyes I love so much and nod.  This is our chance to learn what’s going on and I have to stay and listen.

Chase and all the Russian men are in a huddle, like halftime at a football game, and I wonder if they are reciting their playbook.  I decide to take charge.

“I’d like some answers,” I blurt into the now silent room.

The men all pivot and I see a startling new manifestation on Viktor’s face.  He’s glancing at Bradley and I catch a shocking look which radiates hatred or jealously, or both.  Was this all over me?  Does Viktor really love me, or is it just part of this game Bradley and I have been drafted into without our consent.  Maybe Bradley is right about his friend’s rivalry, because Viktor looks like a man ready to throw a punch.

Everyone shifts, sits down, refills their glasses, and looks expectantly at me.

“I want to know a lot of things.  Why this man called Chase lied to me, deliberately broke up my relationship with Bradley.  Now, he’s claiming to be my half-brother, let’s start there.  Who are you really?”

Bradley squeezes my shoulder, and glancing up, I see he’s handing me a drink.  I whisper thanks and look directly at Chase.

Chase, all arrogance now, very different from his behavior at the gym, stands and leans on the white marble mantel. 

“We decided Dobrov was in the way, so with Molly’s help, I convinced you he was cheating.  I must say Naomi; you fell for it like a naïve child.  All those times I laid it on thick about Bradley’s dominant/submissive games, your face, it was priceless.”  He laughs and my temper boils.

“Your trick hurt me, hurt both of us.  It’s not funny!  Why was Bradley in the way of whatever devious plan you all have going?”

“It would be better if
we
married KuKu,” Viktor adds, staring Bradley down.  “My father likes to have all the players together, the same family, united.  We are a better couple anyway, I have more to offer.”

I just glare, my eyes narrow to slits, and I think I growl.  How is all of this subversion even possible?  Didn’t I meet Viktor by random chance at the yoga class, or did he follow me, insert himself there?  The damn bounder, him, so out of place, his mat overlapping mine, the pressure to have coffee with him afterwards, the man needing a room to rent…in Tribeca!  I
was
a stupid, naïve girl.  I feel myself blushing red and I swallow down my anger.

“Before we move on to your part in this Viktor, what’s the half-brother reference Chase?”

I take a sip of my drink and I can’t help but notice it’s a superior quality I’ve never had before and I look around, seeing LaLa and her opulence for the first time.  My head’s buzzing with a million questions.  I want to ask all of them at once, but I’m not sure I can face the answers.

“That would be my secret dear,” LaLa says, “though I’d rather explain it all in private.”

“Oh just tell the poor girl before she passes out again. I’m Fedor Slotzky, Viktor’s father and I knew your parents.  Your mother Beverly was one of my favorite flings.”

“What?”

Then LaLa chimes in.  “And while they were together, your father and I met up, I offered him comfort.  First to talk, then later we fell in love.  Chase is your half-brother Naomi.”

“
You’re
the blonde bitch, the mystery whore?”  I gasp, then blush as red as my forgotten roses.  “Sorry, I mean, Mother called you that.  This is crazy.”

“Same father as me Naomi, but for some twisted reason, he put only your name on the Montauk, New York properties.  That long stretch of beach, the quaint little hamlet on the east end of Long Island, Navy Beach…”

“Yes, I know where it is,” I growl.  “Are you telling me I own valuable property and you’re all trying to rob me of it?”

LaLa laughs, “Dear, we’re not the thieves; your mother robbed the locals of it.  Bev was a politically connected real-estate broker who stood to earn a sizable commission by filing false charges against the residents for having trash in their yards.  She even managed to drag the fire marshal out there to inspect the sites and condemn them.  Your father stepped in secretly, with my help, did several covert purchases himself when no one was looking.  I ask him to write a will, divide all of it between you and Chase, but he cut Chase out, then he went on that damn sailboat trip with your mother…”

Her mouth twists, her voice is now dripping with acid, and I see the kind, beautiful aunt morph into a jealous old woman, with a greedy streak the color of pure emerald green.

“I think Naomi’s had enough of your meddling, your plans, and tricks.  We’re back together; they’ll be no marrying Viktor.”  Bradley says his short speech and I’ve never been more grateful.  I stand and hug him tightly against me.

“Yes, I love Bradley, and that bullshit about a high-rise building over on Chambers Street, and me financing the project…not going to happen.”

I reach up and kiss Bradley on the cheek, then I turn and give the roomful of privileged asses my narrow-eyed glare and say, “C’mon honey, let’s go home.”

“Oh, not so fast,” Fedor Slotzky shouts.  “Unless you want Carl Swartz to file that lawsuit against you.  It seems you sexually harassed him, forced yourself on him many times.  He can tie you up in court for years; blackmail was the term he used.  Said he has your voicemail confessing the entire thing.”

BRADLEY

Friday, February 18th

When Naomi asks to go home, my muscles loosen and I breathe deeply for the first time since we saw Chase. 
Great,
I think,
let’s go. 
But then LaLa swoops in and drags her over to a chair by the fire.  Just when you think you’re out, they pull you back in.  What is this?  Russian Godfather?  A change comes over Naomi, I can see it.  Her shoulders go back and she fixes everyone with her death stare. 

“I want to know a lot of things,” she begins.  “Why this man called Chase lied to me, deliberately broke up my relationship with Bradley.  Now, he’s claiming to be my half-brother, let’s start there.  Who are you really?”

I guess we’re going to be here a while.  So I go do the only thing I can think to do:  I get her a drink.  When Chase starts in on how easy it was to dupe her, I’m waiting for a signature Naomi rant, but none comes.  I decide to hang tight until she gets what she wants; this is her show, I’m just a supporting actor.  I listen to the whole thing in complete disbelief.  I scan the room and try to read the faces, but they’re blank-faced.  Even Viktor’s family doesn’t seem to acknowledge the weirdness of it.  I’ve known them all so long and they lied to me about their father dying when we were in middle school.  That’s another mystery I really have no interest in getting to the bottom of. 

I’m kind of in my own zone, half-listening to their explanations and not believing a word of it, when Viktor brings up marrying ‘KuKu’ again.  It shakes me back into the game, and I see Viktor staring me down.  I wonder what happened to the Viktor of this morning, tail-between-the-legs and hangdog?  My fists clench and I’m just about to get into it with my ‘friend’ when Naomi takes charge.  She demands answers and gets more than I think either of us ever imagined.  LaLa stalls, but Mr. Slotzky steps in and starts the ball rolling with news that he had an affair with Naomi’s mother. 
What the hell?

After that, LaLa spills it all:  her affair with Naomi’s dad, the shady real estate deals in Montauk, her twisted plan to get their bastard son, Chase, his share of Naomi’s pie.  My mind is reeling.  I need to hit something, or someone.

I clear my throat and everyone looks at me.  With every last ounce of self-control I have, I say, “I think Naomi’s had enough of your meddling, your plans, and tricks.  We’re back together; they’ll be no marrying Viktor.”  She stands and hugs me, tells everyone she loves me and there will be no wedding to Viktor and no financing of a high-rise and we’re going home.

Yeah, go my girl, tell ‘em. 
I’m so proud of her.  The doormat is gone and now she’s a roaring lion.  I’m just about to lead her out of this madhouse and take her home, tear off the clothes of my feisty jungle cat and ravage that rocking body, when Mr. Slotzky shouts, “Oh, not so fast, unless you want Carl Swartz to file that lawsuit against you.  It seems you sexually harassed him, forced yourself on him many times.  He can tie you up in court for years; blackmail was the term he used.  Said he has your voicemail confessing the entire thing.”

Hold up…what?
  I look at Naomi, who looks as though she’s been slapped in the face. 

“That’s a LIE,” she shouts back, “that asshat came on to ME.  For five years I dodged his grabby little claws, endured his stares down my blouse, inched away from his knees under the conference table.  He’s a disgusting creep and he knows it.  There’s nothing in that voicemail that incriminates me.”

Chase has an even oilier version of his smile plastered to his face.  He pulls out his phone and opens something, holds it out for us all to hear.

It’s Naomi’s voice.

“Mr. Swartz, I’m calling to thank you for all the opportunities you have so graciously offered me these past five years, all the hints, suggestions, and requests especially noted.  After careful consideration, I’ve decided I have interest in kissing, sucking, touching, or feeling any part of your anatomy.  Please keep in mind your livelier suggestions.  Expect a good Naomi.”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing and apparently neither can Naomi.  She lunges at Chase, tries to grab the phone.  He laughs.

“That’s NOT the message I left.  You’ve cut it, you bastard.  And I do mean
bastard,
half-brother, dear.  My message detailed HIS wrongs, not mine.”

Chase tucks the phone back inside his pocket and half-sings, “That’s not what I heard.  How about any of you?”  He looks around the room, eyebrows raised. 

Naomi looks at me.  “That’s not my message.  You know that, right?”

“Honey, after all the lies we’ve been told, if any one of these douche-bags told me my name was Bradley Dobrov, I wouldn’t believe them,” I say.  I put my arm around her shoulder and draw her into me.  We have to get out of here now and I’m not sure if there’s going to be a fight.  I look at Mr. Slotzky, as he seems to be the ringleader here.

“Now if you’ll excuse us, we have some place we need to be.”

I head toward the elevator, conscious of eyes boring holes into my back.  No one makes a move.  I turn around one last time before leaving the white room and they are all standing still, eyes on Mr. Slotzky.  His hand is on his waist, beneath his suit jacket and for a moment, I think he’s going to pull out a gun and shoot us on the spot.  Instead, he drops his hand, half-grins at me.

“It’s so good to be alive again, Bradchka.  You know, when you die, even a fake death, it makes you know what is really important in this world.

We’re just about to the elevators when I hear him finish his little speech.  “It’s family, yes?”  The elevator doors are closing as he shouts, “By the way, Dobrov, how is your mother?”