The Prelude (A Musical Interlude Novel) - By Kasonndra Leigh Page 0,12
myself. I did something I’ve never done with a woman before. I played the gentleman card, something a nice guy would do, a concept that’s foreign to me. I even handed over my jacket to cover her body.
What’s wrong with me? Erin Angelo. Her name rolls off my tongue just as easily as I’m sure the other parts of her body would do.
“Aleksandr. You’re so far away. Where did you go?” Nadya asks. She’s my partner at the moment, a woman my mother set me up with. I glance across the dinner table at her. Blonde. Pretty. She should be the perfect distraction. “I was saying that my favorite stone is the pearl. I think it would look fantastic set in a golden band. What do you think?”
That question rips me back to the situation at hand. I don’t need to stall. I always hate when we get to this part of the game. It’s that awkward point when one of the swingers want to settle down and take a seat on a charming little park bench while the other one is all set to run like hell.
Sighing, I gather my thoughts and say, “Nadya, this isn’t working. You want things I can’t give you.”
Her smile fades at once. “I knew this was coming. You’re breaking up with me?”
“No, I’m dissolving our deal,” I correct. “We were never a couple in that way. You know it’s true.”
Slamming her glass down on the table, she swipes at her lips, pursing them. She takes so long to say anything that I feel as though she’s about to slam her glass against my head. “Fine. But just know there’s no other woman alive who can keep up with your insatiable appetite, Aleksandr.”
“You could be right. But I just turned twenty-three-years old. I’m not ready to discuss bands of any type yet.”
“You’ll come groveling back to me, once you discover there’s no one out there for you but me,” she hisses.
I don’t think so. “Maybe. I’m sorry,” I say truthfully.
She gives me an incredulous look, gathers her things, and storms out of the restaurant, bumping into a waitress who’s unfortunate enough to get in her way.
In her place, Nikolai, my most loyal comrade and faithful coordinator of all things dance related, steps through the door followed by my mother. “Shit,” I groan and prepare to receive the kind of scolding only my mother knows how to do. I take a large gulp of my Campari, a fruity liquer that’s exactly what I need to sweeten this moment. Closing my eyes, I wait for the sting to ease up before opening them again.
“Aleksandr, whatever are you doing?” Mother asks as she sits in the seat Nikolai has pulled out for her. The white fur in the vest she wears highlights the silver in her hair. She recently stopped trying to cover the gray and let it go all natural. She only did it because she claims the owner of Milan’s Prada house wears hers in the same shade.
Nikolai bumps fists with me before taking a seat across the table. We’re total opposites in appearance, but loyal comrades all the same. Where I have dark hair and these funny colored blue-brown eyes, Nikolai wears his shoulder length blonde locks in a ponytail most times. He’s the dancer, and I’m the musician. We hacked out a tough living as teenagers back in Moscow, but somehow we made it through the fire of an existence that most people only read about in books.
After spending some time in a gang, we both vowed to have one another’s backs. Nikolai rescued me from a vicious knife attack, and I saved my comrade from himself. Now we’re both stars in our new careers. We have money, fame, and women groveling at our feet.
I should be happy.
I am happy. No, I’m not.
The only thing holding us back from achieving total success is ourselves. And women like Nadya, the kind who would rather know how much you paid for their designer handbag than sit through one of your long, drawn out performances as she puts it. I think they probably have a role in all of this, as well.
“Was that Nadya I bumped into looking distressed?” Mother asks right away.
“You know that it was,” I answer, feeling annoyed. I motion for our waiter. I’m going to need one more drink to survive the Mother Inquisition.
“What did you do this time? I told you we need to form an alliance with her family. They’re