My Wife's Li'l Secret (21 page)

I turned around to squint at her. “What mold?”

“Cruikshank wants us to buy some decent ones.”

Cruikshank can go fuck himself. Use garbage bags for all I care.

I managed to subdue my vitriolic thoughts and said, “Can’t you clean them up?”

She shook her head. “They’re really bad. Can you buy us two large ones?”

It was my turn to sound exasperated. “Olga you are –”

“Please, Ritchie!”

“Fine, fine, whatever!”

“We need the money for the tickets.”

Okay, she wasn’t pushing for me and the kids to accompany her anymore. Had she accepted my argument and planned to travel with just Cruikshank? I wondered.

“How much?” I asked.

“Twenty grand.”

I spun around to look at her. “Are you fucking mad? Twenty grand?”

“Okay, ten then.”

I stared at her.

“And you buy us new suitcases.”

“Fine! Fine! Whatever!” I said, and moved away, the plan in my head mushrooming.

I called Bear. “We have liftoff, bro.”

“I’m all ears,” he said.

Chapter Thirty-Five

 

 

Olga’s brown eyes popped when she saw the money.

I waved them in her face, making sure it was in front of Cruikshank.

With an excited laugh she jumped to grab the money out of my hands.

I held it up and out of reach. “You’d better ensure you are going to Ukraine, not to Disneyland, okay?”

She jumped higher. I moved the bills higher.

Behind her, Cruikshank stood, beer poised mid-air, his eyes shiny with excitement.

“Oh, but we are, we are!” Olga said in a breathless voice. She whirled to look at Cruikshank.

He nodded vigorously, his blue eyes fastened on the money like it was blurred lines.

Olga stopped jumping. “But…what about
your
tickets?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

I was ready for her. Like the way she was eager to end her charade with me, I was keen as hell to get her out of my life.

With a smile, I pulled out the tickets I had purchased for the girls and myself.

“We leave Tuesday morning,” I said. “I didn’t want to travel at night with the girls. It would be too much for me.”

“Oh, wonderful!” she cried, clapping her hands again.

Within five minutes, she and the fuckhead occupying my house got into the Ford and sped off, probably to the nearest travel agent. Or coke dealer.

My plan better work, I thought, as I went in search of my daughters.

“Hey, you two!”

“Daddy, shhh!” Becky said, placing a chubby finger on her lips. “We making baby sleep.”

I looked at Mother Cat swathed in one of their baby blankets, desperately trying to escape their clutches.

I laughed, then freed the poor cat.

“Daddyyyy!”

With a laugh, I grabbed a blanket, threw it on both of them and hugged them to me. “Now you sleep, like you made the poor cat sleep.”

They spent the next couple of minutes wrestling with me. I loved them so much. Knowing that a tart named Olga had not sired these beautiful girls warmed my heart.

“You want Chinese tea?” Girly asked.

“Eh…”

“I put sugar in it,” she said with a smile.

Sugar? Didn’t she snap at me for asking her for sugar?

“Okay, then. I will have it. Thanks.”

About two hours later, Olga and Cruikshank burst through the door.

“Got them!” Olga shouted, waving the plane tickets at me, a waft of chardonnay surrounding her. “Bought them too!” Her head jerked towards the two suitcases Cruikshank held, one red, one silver. “Got them on sale.”

“Wonderful!” I said in a sarcastic voice. I took the tickets from her and scrutinized them.

“Nadia? Who’s Nadia?”

She quickly tried to snatch the travel tickets out of my hand, but I moved them away from her.

“Eh, just a name Aristov wanted me to use.”

“Mm.” I looked at the travel journey and balked. “What the...?” My head shot to look at her.

“It was cheap, Ritchie. For an extra one hundred dollars, we can take a slight detour before we go to Ukraine. It’s nothing, really. By the time you arrive with the kids in Ukraine, we will be there.”

I let out a long sigh as my mind registered the date on the ticket. October 19
th
.

It was our anniversary date. Obviously, she didn’t remember the date she married, by proxy, a sucker called Ritchie MacMillan.

Suddenly, my mind raced. That detour she talked about…

Quickly, I moved away and dialed Bear.

“Bro, guess what, we’re about to hit pay dirt if all goes well.”

“Shoot!” he said. “I’m all ears.”

In an excited voice, I filled him in.

“Pay dirt it just might be,” Bear said, sounding as excited as I was.

 

****

 

The day had finally arrived for Olga and Cruikshank to depart Sydney. I was nervous and excited at the same time. So much so that I awoke at 4 a.m. and went for a run.

“Can you drive us to the airport?” Olga asked when she stumbled out of bed in search of Nurofen.

What a fucking nerve she had. Under normal circumstances I would have objected. Not today.

“Well, okay, I guess.” I hoped I sounded pissed off.

That Friday evening, as I drove them to the airport, with the two of them sitting in the back seat, chatting away excitedly between themselves, acting like I was their chauffeur, fury overcame me and I braked hard, then watched with glee as both of them jerked in their seat.

Hope the bastards get whiplash, I thought.

But they didn’t get whiplash, and they were far too excited to be pissed at me for my poor driving skills.

When I parked at the passenger drop-off zone, Cruikshank stood outside the boot of the Jeep and lit a cigarette.

Are you serious? You expect me to unload your bags?

“Fucking prick!” I muttered as I acquiesced and unloaded their bags.

Without thanking me, they both wheeled away their cases and hurried into International Departures for their two-hour wait.

I got into my Jeep and drove away from Sydney International.

At a traffic light, I removed a disposable mobile phone and dialed.

Bear answered on another disposable mobile phone.

“Two down, ten to go, mate.”

“Okay, I’m on my way,” he said. “Meet you in Merrylands at that BP service station on Hoyl Street?”

“Yep. You got the stash?”

“Sure do,” he said.

“Cash?”

“Yep! So call Aristov and arrange to meet him. But expect him to cunt you around.”

“Okay.” I hung up and called Aristov.

“You got my money?” Aristov asked, his voice filled with excitement.

“I do,” I said. “The hundred
g
s, but you have to wait for the interest.”

“That’s no problem. Excellent, in fact! We meet at the Rocky Tavern in Mount Street in ten minutes, no? We talk about the interest there.”

“Not inside the tavern. How ’bout the parking lot?” I knew of the tavern and I knew that there were no cameras in the parking lot, only in the tavern itself.

“Sure, why not?” he said, still sounding happy. Of course he would be. He was about to collect a hundred grand of my hard-earned money.

“Okay. In ten min—”

He hung up before I could finish.

Rude prick! I hate Russian blackmailing drug dealers with no manners.

I called Bear. “Meeting him in ten minutes.”

“Okay. I’m all set over here.”

“Thanks, mate,” I said, and hung up.

I met Aristov in the parking lot in nine minutes. He was already waiting for me, five of his goons forming a perimeter around his car.

I cruised into a parking spot next to his BMW, turned off the ignition, and took my time getting out of the Jeep.

Opening the door, I walked around to the back door of the Jeep, opened it, and took out a barrel-shaped Nike sports bag.

Under their watchful eye, I opened the bag, played with the notes inside, zipped it up, and walked towards Aristov, who was in the passenger’s seat of his BMW.

He had a somewhat wary look on his face as I handed him the money.

“No tricks,” he said in a warning voice.

“Fuck, no!” I said, glancing at his henchman. “I’m not crazy.”

With his eyes on me, he slowly unzipped the bag.

When he saw the money, his eyes lit up like a neon sign on a King’s Cross strip club offering live sex shows and a chance to participate if you wish.

“It’s all there,” I said.

As he played with the money, he looked up and smiled at me. “You...” He pointed at me, his smile lighting up his whole face, “You are a man of your word. I like that. I
like
that.”

Yeah, well, go fuck yourself!

I nodded. “Not that I have much of a choice.”

Still smiling like he had won the lotto or something, he got out of the car, pulled out a packet of Peter Stuyvesant from his coat pocket, tipped out a cigarette, and proffered the pack.

I no longer smoked, but fuck, I really needed one that day.

I accepted the cigarette and his light, and inhaled deeply.

The smoke scorched my lungs and made me light-headed for a moment.

“You know, Olga owes me more money,” he said, pointing two fingers at me.

Okay, this was the shakedown Bear and I expected. The cunting around Bear spoke of. He wouldn’t be who he was if he didn’t go for gold.

“What do you mean?” I asked, feigning a surprised voice.

Aristov nodded and tried to explain. “We talked two weeks ago, right?”

“Right…?”

“After that she bought more than $30,000 dollars’ worth of coke.”

“What?!”

“Hey, I’m talking high-grade cocaine. For
two
people. It’s not cheap, my friend.”

Don’t fucking call me your friend.

“Well, I don’t have thirty
g
s to give you. Not with her taking money for plane tickets and then you…”

He patted my arm in a reassuring manner. “I understand, my friend.” He gestured to his henchmen, who all stood with their hands clasped together in front of their nuts. “We all understand.”

Their heads bobbed.
Yeah, we do understand.

“Thank you,” I said, in what I hoped was a grateful voice.

“That’s why I give you three days to come up with the money.”

Son of a bitch!

“You know, you should ask your family to help,” he said.

“Three days…” I put on my worried face and scratched my chin.

“Plus interest.”

“What?!”

“Hey, I have to wait for my money, I have to get interest, my friend. It’s the way it is, huh? You gotta understand now. I finish understanding. It’s your turn.”

“Is this ever going to stop?” I asked, dropping my shoulders and trying to look shattered.

Aristov threw out his hands, lifted and dropped his shoulders. “You tell me. It’s your wife’s fault, you know. Not my fault. I’m a reasonable man. A family man, remember? Ask anyone about me and they will tell you I am a good man.”

Yeah right, you fat fuck!

“Yeah, well…” I scratched my head, “guess I gotta handle her.”

He nodded, and for a while we stood in silence.

“You want some?” he asked, breaking the silence.

I looked at him. “What?”

He blocked a nostril with his index finger, his eyebrows high into his receding hairline.

Of course he would offer me coke, he’s a coke dealer – everyone around him is a potential customer. Get me hooked and I will be the next Cruikshank to him. If I should live, that is.

“Eh…” I twisted my mouth around and summoned a thoughtful expression on my face.

“C’mon! After all you have been through with your whore of a wife, you need some cheering up.”

Sure, she was a whore, but did he have to say that? With so much disdain in his voice? I would have liked nothing better than to kick him hard in the nuts just for saying that.

“No, I gotta go ho –”

“First one’s on the house. On me. C’mon!”

Bear and I covered that too. Of course all drug dealers offered you the first one on the house. Try before you buy. Then come back and buy all you possibly can.

I’d tried everything when I was younger, ran with a bunch of druggies, got high, got legless, and experimented with shit I shouldn’t have. I was young and dumb.

Luckily, I shook them off, quit all the shit I was doing, then joined the police force.

After that, I never looked back. After having kids, I wouldn’t
think
of going back.

“You know what? Maybe I will,” I said. “I just have to go home, arrange a babysitter, then I can come back.”

“Okay, you do that. You call me, now. I will get you some girls to make you feel good, forget your wife, forget all your troubles. Huh?”

I nodded and mustered an excited look. “Sounds…good!”

“Remember, you
deserve
some fun.”

“You’re right, you’re right!”

In my pocket, my phone vibrated.

I needed to stub out the half-finished cigarette in my hand, but I didn’t know where to do it. It had been a while since I had smoked, so I was out of touch with just how smokers disposed of their butts.

I scanned the place for a potted plant or a rubbish bin, but I found nothing. It stressed me out.

What a thing to stress about at that moment – I didn’t want to
litter
. Imagine that. With so many things happening, a simple thing like disposing of a cigarette butt was sending me into a spin.

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