Almost Broken Up (Almost Bad Boys) (9 page)

Seriously? I roll my eyes. “Okay, fine. Just come back here quickly.”

Ali skulks to the front door, looks around, and then stands on her tiptoes, trying to see in the window to the left of the door. After a few seconds she glances around again and pushes the button on the wall. She presses her ear to the door, listening.
 

I squeal quietly. “Shit, Ali. Get your ass over here. Now.”
 

Svetlana steps away from the wall, trying to get Ali’s attention. She motions to Ali to return to us. My heart is beating so hard that I’m starting to hyperventilate.
 

“What the hell is she doing?” I whisper severely. “Ali! Come on!” I move closer to Svetlana.
 

Ali turns and gives us two thumbs up. Jesus, what is wrong with her today? Her adrenaline glands must be completely dried out.
 

Finally, she walks toward us, retying the scarf over her face.
 

I whisper-yell at her, “Are you out of your mind? I almost got a heart attack.”
 

“Chill, Davenport. Nobody’s home.” She gives me a pointed look.
 

“Are you sure?” Svetlana asks. Her big blue eyes are the same color as her scarf. “Did you hear anything?”

“I heard the cat. Not sure if it was your cat, but a cat nevertheless.”

Svetlana presses her hand to where her mouth is under the blue scarf. “
Moya Lenochka malen’kaya. Aeta ona’, Lenochka.”
 

“Svetlana, English please.” I raise my eyebrows at her.
 

“Lenochka. It must be. She’s there, my little Lenochka,” she says. I think it is a direct translation.
 

“Ali.” I turn to my friend. “Are you sure there’s nobody there? Maybe she didn’t hear the door bell?”

“That fucking thing is like a monastery gong.” Ali snorts. “It shook the whole house. If she didn’t hear that, she won’t hear us.”

“That really doesn’t make me feel confident about sneaking into her house.” I make a face.
 

“Come on.” Ali pulls on my jacket sleeve. “We might not have much time.”

“And
that
definitely doesn’t improve your previous statement.” I grunt.
 

“Maybe the back door is open?” Svetlana offers.
 

Both Ali and I turn to look at her. I nod. “Let’s try it first.”
 

We creep around the back. The house is massive, so it takes us a while to get to the backyard. There are dim outdoor lights on. A bit of light also filters through the half-opened blinds from somewhere deep inside the house. Huge windows in the back allow the view of the Lake. I look toward the water and see a speedboat moored by a nice chunk of the waterfront. I whistle to myself, thinking of how nice it would be to take it for a spin.
 

Carefully, we peek in the windows, but that part of the house is unlit. There might be someone in another part though.
 

I tap Ali on the shoulder. “Let’s hide in the bushes by the corner of the house and throw a pebble at the window.”

“Okay.” She nods.
 

I tell Svetlana what we’re going to do. The two of us tiptoe back. Ali bends down and picks something up—must be a pebble. She throws it at the first floor window, swings her arm back again and throws another pebble at one of the second floor windows. Bent at the waist, she runs in our direction. We grab her, and the three of us peek from around the corner, listening.

 
Nothing. We look at one another. Svetlana motions to Ali and me to follow her. A moment later she’s by the back door, picking the lock. Fuck! Really?
 

“Svetlana!” I whisper-yell. “What the hell are you doing?”

“It’s easy. Look.” She shows me how to pick the lock. O-kay. Should I add this to my resume?

We hear a tiny meow. Another. I try to see where it comes from, but it’s too dim inside.
 

“There!” Svetlana points.
 

I follow her finger and see something wiggling by the kitchen counter. Must be the kitten. Is she tied up to the bar stool under that massive granite island in the middle of the kitchen? At that point, Svetlana pushes the glass door open, and all three of us freeze. No alarm, no beeping of any kind. Phew, we are in luck. We get in and close the door behind us.
 

Svetlana rushes to the kitchen island and squats down. “
Maya malen’kaya,”
she coos in Russian, picking up the tiny bundle of red-and-white fur.
 

The kitten meows repetitively. Svetlana continues to fuss with it. Ali and I look around the amazing kitchen in awe.
 

“Look what money can buy,” Ali says under her breath, or, rather, from under her scarf.
 

“I could get use to this.” I grin, running my fingers over the subzero fridge. “But we better go. Svetlana, get the cat and scoot.” I turn to look at her and right behind her see something peculiar. “What the…”

Ali follows my eyes and quickly walks into the adjacent room. In the corner, by the ornate fireplace stands a statue of a giant-proportioned black phallus. Ali and I stop in front of it and lift out heads to see to the top. The freakin’ thing is more than eight feet tall.
 

“Where the hell do you buy something like this? On the internet?” Ali asks, amused.
 

“Imagine the delivery guys setting this up.” I chuckle. “I would pay to see that scene.”

Next comment from Ali makes me avert my eyes from this oversized manhood on pedestal. Although, I do it somehow reluctantly. “Crap. Look around, Nat.”
 

There are dozens of phalluses of various sizes, shapes, and colors all over the room: on the fireplace mantel, on the shelves, on the side tables by the sofa. Heck—even right behind the sofa stands another gigantor. This one is multicolored and it looks as if someone splashed a bunch of different paints over it.
 

Svetlana stands next to me, holding the kitty in her arms. “Would you say this is art?” She points to the colorful dick.
 

Ali smirks, and I grin at her. “It might be to you and me. But something tells me Catherine likes her art practical, to be blunt.”

Ali hoots and claps her hands. She wants to go wander through the house to see what other man-part-inspired
art
we can find in Catherine’s possession. But I grab her by the elbow and drag her toward the door. “We have to go. Come on, we are freakin’ trespassing.”
 

She backs away from me and straight onto the black phallus. The thing wobbles. Ali turns and grabs it to steady it. Her arms are around the questionable object. Svetlana and I burst in giggles, and Ali joins in. I take my cell phone out and snap a picture of her. She poses for me, and I laugh so hard, the tears start streaming down my face.
 

And then we hear the front door open, and people talking.
 

“Oh shit,” I whisper and frantically look around for a place to hide.
 

EIGHT

“Never try to outsmart a woman, unless you are another woman.”
 

William Lyon Phelps

Ali’s eyes grow huge. She presses her finger to her lips, signaling to us to be quiet, and squeezes herself behind the statue. I look at Svetlana, expecting her to freak out, but she’s as calm as the effin’ phalluses on the shelves. A few years with the mafia guys must be good for something.
 

“Hide, quick,” I whisper to her.
 

“That’s not Catherine,” she whispers back.
 

“So? We aren’t supposed to be here.”

“It’s Amelie, her older sister and some guy,” she informs me after taking a quick peek around the corner.
 

I sneak a glimpse too. A couple is standing in a tight embrace, kissing in the hallway. The guy looks his late twenties at the most, while the woman is definitely a cougar. A well-preserved cougar. They really are getting into it, and I start hoping that we might have a chance to tiptoe to the back door and run. Svetlana points to the back of the sofa, right by the multicolored dick statue.
 

“Fuck no,” I say indignantly.
 

She rushes me in there and crawls next to me. Great. Now we are not only trespassing, but also hiding with a cat that, most likely, will start meowing at any moment. How did I get myself into this mess? Oh, wait. It was
my
idea. Smooth, Natalie, really smooth.
 

Svetlana’s perfume suffocates me. I’m gonna sneeze. I rub the sides of my nose, hoping my friend Jena was right when she told me this is the trick to stop a sneeze. It does help.
 

Crouching low, I stick my head from behind the sofa to see what’s going on. I see Ali squeezed between the black dick and the wall. She doesn’t look happy. I wave to her. The couple enters the room, or rather stumbles in while roaming over each other’s bodies and locking lips. They undress in a hurry, creating a trail of clothing on the floor.
 

The woman moans when the guy presses her to him and bends to kiss her throat. Oh, great. Now we are about to witness these two having sex right in front of us. I’m out of here. Svetlana must sense what I’m about to do, because she pulls me down and whispers in my ear, “Wait. I have a plan.”

“Good, because I’m not in a mood to watch live porn,” I snap back.
 

She giggles quietly. The leather sofa in front of us rattles when the couple collapses on it. They are panting, and I feel like puking. From what Svetlana told me, Catherine is in her late fifties, and this is her
older
sister. Not only live porn, but the geriatric kind! Hell on wheels, I really don’t want to be here.
 

“Do you have a condom?” I hear the woman say between the gasps.
 

Really? You worry about getting pregnant at your age? I roll my eyes.
 

“Of course. Always. But you said you’re on the pill,” the guy pants back.
 

“No, I never said that.” She sounds indignant. The kissing noises cease. “Get your clients straight. That’s not what I pay you for.” She stands up.
 

He grabs her from behind around her waist and apologizes quietly, nuzzling her neck. She stands in the middle of the room, arms crossed over her chest. She’s only wearing a bra, skimpy undies, and lacy-top stockings, all in black.
 

“How old is this woman?” I whisper in Svetlana’s ear.

She shrugs and makes a
no idea
face. “Maybe fifty nine? Sixty?”

Whoa! I wanna look like this when I’m sixty. There is not an inch of bulging or floppy flesh on her. Sweet Jesus, no amount of exercise can make a sixty-year-old woman look like this. Cher’s re-embodiment in full display.

“Who’s the guy?” I whisper again.

Svetlana winks at me. “I think male escort. Amelie likes them.” She leans very close to my ear, and I have to hold my breath because her obnoxious perfume is giving me a headache. “Amelie hires the escorts all the time. Only very young and handsome.”

No kidding. Interesting lifestyle. I crouch even lower and stick my head out from behind the couch again to catch a glimpse of Ali. She’s plastered to the wall by the questionable statue and, like me, peaking from behind it to get a better view. She has a wicked grin plastered on her face, and I’m afraid she’s going to start giggling out loud. Crap!
 

Ali catches my eye and points with her chin to the couple. They are seriously making out again. I guess Amelie’s outrage at her young escort’s inability to keep his clients straight was rather superficial. I put my finger across my lips, signaling to Ali to be quiet, and then I point in the general direction of the back door. She nods, but puts her hand out as to say
, okay, but wait, this is getting really interesting.
I inwardly groan and nudge Svetlana. “What’s your brilliant plan?”