Page 27 of Drifter
“None of that. I have too much to do today.” I barely get the words out before he lunges for me. I let out a squeal but manage to evade his hands and run out the door to put on a pot of coffee.
While I make breakfast, this morning being waffles with fresh berries and breakfast sausages, Drifter hops in the shower. We trade places, and he sets the table, and it’s my turn in the bathroom. It feels good to start my day with the man I love. Despite all the craziness of my father and the insanity he’s involved in, this is a moment I will always cherish.
Every now and again, Drifter reaches out and caresses my cheek, places his hand on my knee or the back of my chair, or plays with my hair. I know we both need to move on with the day, but this is how I want to spend all my mornings.
“Lee’s up today. If you need to go out, he goes with you,” Drifter says.
“I was planning on going to the senior center today. It won’t be much fun for Lee.”
“He’ll deal. But I need to have eyes on you, sunshine. Your father’s unpredictable, and shit is going to get real very soon. I’m asking you not to take any chances.”
“Okay, handsome,” I answer quietly, lacing our fingers together. I can’t remember the last time anyone cared so much about me, besides Simon, of course.
Lee arrives, and Drifter is off in a hurry. I take the waffles I left warming in the oven and put them down in front of my protector for the day. Lee’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree. He smothers his waffles with syrup and digs in with gusto.
“I need to find a girl just like you,” he says with a lopsided grin, shoving another forkful into his mouth.
“I’m sure that’ll happen,” I reply.
“Maybe. One day,” he mutters and goes back to his food. I leave him to it and delve into my daily yoga exercises. Usually, this is exactly what I need to get my day started, but today I feel a sense of unease. I keep thinking of my father and the horrible situation our family is in. Poor Simon! This puts him in a terrible position, and since he works directly for Dad’s company, he has the most to lose.
It does explain why our father never discussed business at home and why he’s refused to have Simon attend certain meetings. Simon’s been complaining for years that Dad is freezing him out and not letting him have full control of the business like he promised. I’ve always believed it was a control issue, but maybe it’s because once Simon found out the truth, Simon would walk away. I know it’s naive to think so, but perhaps Dad was keeping Simon at bay to protect him from the Russian mob. Keeping Simon in the background kept my brother at a safe distance from the mess.
However, it doesn’t explain why Mom and Dad insist on having Simon and me go to all those grand affairs. It’s always the same modus operandi. First, an engraved invitation comes through the mail. Then I get a call from my mother. Mom calls rarely, and when she does, her words are slurred, and I’d hardly call it a conversation. It goes something like “Hi, Mom,” to which she responds with “Baby girl, Mommy has a big party, and you haven’t RSVP’d.” I then let her know that I have plans for whatever date her gala is on, only to have her pish-posh my objections and hang up. That’s when Dad takes over, and he calls incessantly, leaving countless messages. It starts with “Call me.” But when I don’t phone him back, his voice elevates, and his message turns into orders. “You’re expected at the fundraiser. Do not make me come and get you.” And of course, he finishes with an underlying threat: “Simon better not be arriving on his own.”
I’m shaken out of my own thoughts when I hear a pounding at the door, immediately followed by Lee shouting, “Stay where you are, Sasha. Don’t come out.” I hear Lee barking into his cell phone: “We’ve got a problem.” I don’t hear the rest, and by the time I get to the door, Lee’s off the phone and is barreling toward the front door. He opens the door just enough to fit through and shuts it firmly behind him.
“Who the hell are you?” That’s my father’s voice booming.
“Sasha doesn’t want to see you. You need to leave,” Lee answers.
“She’s surrounded herself with a bunch of bikers. She must have lost her mind. Either she’s an idiot or you’ve got her hooked on drugs or something. I’m going to call the police and take my daughter home,” my father threatens.
“Go ahead, man. Call the cops,” Lee says. I look out the front window and see Lee standing right in front of the door, arms crossed over his chest, his feet firmly planted, glaring at my dad.
Dad’s eyes flicker to the window, and his gaze meets mine. “Sasha, get out here. Call off your goon. I need to speak with you.” His angry tone tells me he’s running out of patience.
“Don’t even think about it, Sasha. Drifter’s on his way,” Lee informs me.
The screech of tires stops dead in front of my home. It’s not Drifter but a black Cadillac, and the men stepping out of it look like bodyguards.
Dad sneers, turning back to Lee, “Do you think you can take all three of them?”
Lee says nothing and stands his ground, keeping his gaze fixed on the men approaching the house. It’s not until they’re halfway up the walkway that Lee shouts, “Lock this door, Sasha.” When I don’t move fast enough for Lee’s liking, he gets louder, yelling, “Now!” I jolt into action and do what I’m told.
A lump forms in my throat, panic coming over me, followed by guilt. Lee’s out there on his own, and the men who climbed out of the car are fast approaching. The Redemption Riders are tough, and from what I’ve seen, they can handle themselves, but no one can go up against the three men who look like wrestlers and who are willing to fight dirty to get what they’re after.
“Dad, that’s enough!” I shout through the door.
“Come out and speak with me, and your friend doesn’t need to get hurt,” Dad replies. “Do you want to be responsible for what happens to this man?”
“Don’t fucking move!” Lee orders. Two seconds later, one of the men lunges for Lee, who quickly shifts to one side, then rams the man’s head into my front door. Just as the other two make their move, the roar of motorcycles fills the air, then stops abruptly.
I watch from the window as Drifter rushes to Lee’s aid. Not far behind are several other Redemption Riders, Hawk being the next to jump into action. Drifter pulls a man off Lee and punches him so hard that his nose spews blood, and he cries out in pain. Even from inside the house, I can hear the groans and moans.
This goes on for what seems like eternity. I can’t stand it anymore, and I’m about to rush out to face my father, when I see a multitude of other bikers rolling into my driveway. I recognize most of the guys, but there are others I haven’t met.
This is when the three men who came along with Dad retreat, leaving my father standing alone on the walkway. He sneers in disgust, looking the Redemption Riders up and down like they’re lowly servants, and I lose it. I wrench open the door, my blood boiling. I race out with the intention of going nose to nose with my father.
