The Love Of Money - S01 E197

Story 2 months ago

The Love Of Money - S01 E197

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 197

Hi I said, learning back in my chair.

"A couple things-people are starting to arrive, and I thought you might want to know that Natashya is stirring. She got some food and is eating in the media room."

"Ah," I said, standing up. I wanted to give her privacy when she was in her room, but if she was out and about, maybe she wouldn't mind me trying to talk to her. "Where's Emily.?"

"Taking a shower," Erin said.

"Thanks, Erin." I thought about talking to her about her decision to bring Tara in for an interview, but wasn't sure how long my window of opportunity with Natashya would be, so I decided it could wait until later.

"No problem, boss," she said with a wink and a smile, then disappeared.

I headed to the media room, which was essentially a scaled-down luxury theater, and sure enough, when I opened the door and peered inside, I could vaguely make out the distinct shape of Natashya Illuminated by the silver screen. Some old black and white movie was playing, and someone was ranting. "...she's not like an automobile or an icebox or a piece of furniture or something you buy on time, and when you can't give up the payments, they take it away from you!"

I slipped in and made my way over to where she was sitting, clearing my throat on the way to give her fair warning. It worked, and Natashya looked over her shoulder at me as she chewed on a mouthful of something that looked a little like chicken fried rice. She stared at me as I approached, and I stopped a few feet away. Neither of us said anything for a pregnant moment as the characters on the screen continued talking. Natashya just continued to slowly chew as she stared at me.

"I can leave you alone if you want," I said.

She stared back at me for a long moment, and just when I was going to back away and leave, she sat her plate of food on the seat on the other side and patted the seat next to her. I sat beside her, and we both gave each other a long look before returning to the movie.

I never really understood the appeal of old movies. They all spoke in that strange, trans-Atlantic accent that made everything sound like a radio announcement. It bothered me. Plus, it was always the same four men in every movie. It was a product of its time, and I didn't really get it, but I sat there and watched some of it with Natashya, unsure of how to start opening up about what happened to us in Vegas.

"How are you doing?" I finally asked.

She side-eyed me, and it felt like she thought my question was just as lame as I did. "I'm fine."

I gave her a doubtful look, and she sighed. "Emily said she told you everything

"She told me enough," I said. "God, Natashya. I'm so sorry. I feel like this is all my fault."

She shook her head and gave me a sad smile. "This is why I didn't want to talk to you yet."

That took me by surprise. "Because I'm trying to take responsibility for getting you kidnapped?"

"Yes," she said. "Marcus, you did nothing wrong. Evil men came for you. They took you and beat you, I was with you because I chose to be, and they took me as well."

"If I hadn't"

"If my uncle Alex hadn't chased his friend across the street when he was little, he wouldn't have been struck by a drunk driver," Natashya said. "That does not make it his friend's fault."

That shut me up. It was a hard analogy to argue with.

"Can we please move past the part where you beat yourself up over this?"

Suddenly, I felt guilty for a different reason. I'd come in here and made Natashya's situation about me. Whether I realized it or not, my priority had been confessing my sins to her in the hope of receiving absolution. I wanted her to take away my guilt, but instead, she pointed out the real problem. I wasn't guilty of putting Natashya in harm's way. I was guilty of being selfish.

"Fuck. You're right. I'm sorry," said, then continued before she could respond. "Look, a huge part of why I came in here was to see how you were, though. I've been worried about you... and don't give me some trite answer about being okay because I know you're not

She offered me a sad smile

"I don't need you to open up. That's what my sister is for. Emily told me you've been through a lot and that you're super strong, and that's really admirable. I just want you to know that it's okay that you're not okay, and if you need anything at all, I'm here for you. Just say the word."

"Thank you," she said.

"Of course," I said, "I care about you. A lot."

"I care about you too," she said, "and I'm sorry I've been avoiding you."

I waved her off, "Don't worry about that. I get it."

"No," she said. "I mean it. You invited me on the trip, then paid The Starlight so that I could keep my job. You've been letting me stay here. You've done so much for me when all I am is a dancer you fucked in a strip club."

"Hey." It was my turn to cut her off. "You're more than that."

She leveled a look at me. "I told you would not be a good girlfriend for you."

"That's not what meant," said. "At the very least, you're my friend. You're not just some girl met and fucked."

She stared back at me with an unreadable expression, but her eyes shined brightly in the light of the movie, and despite the bruises on her face and the split on her bottom lip, she was still striking.

"You look as bad as me," she finally said.

"Yeah, well, you look incredible."

Something in her expression changed slightly. It looked like her eyes got a little brighter, and I got the distinct impression that she was fighting tears.

"The last time a man touched me," she said, her voice thick with emotion, "was horrible. I would like a kiss... to remind me that it Isn't always like that?"

"If that's what you want," I said back.

I placed a hand on her cheek, carefully testing the waters to make sure she was actually okay with being touched so soon after what had just happened. I caressed the mottled browns and blues that stained her creamy skin and paid careful attention to her reaction. She simply stared back at me and waited.

I covered her lips with mine for a sweet, closed-mouth kiss. It was different than usual; Natashya's lips had always been moist, pillow- soft, and ready to wrestle or caress as needed. This kiss was closed-mouth and sweet, but her lips were coarse and dry from the damage she'd received, and the time spent in recovery tasted something faintly medicinal as I moved my lips gently over hers. She reciprocated, but her tongue stayed in her mouth as she applied a little pressure of her own.

The movie droned on as we kissed. "..please Judge, I'll sell anything I've got until get going again. And she'll never go hungry! She'll never be without clothes... not so long as I've got two good hands, so help me!" Then it faded to black.

At that moment, the door opened, and light spilled into the darkened theater.

Natashya and I pulled apart and saw Emily standing in the doorway in an oversized T-shirt and shorts. Her freshly washed hair hung around her face in damp clumps.

"Oh!" she said, stopping short. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean..."

"No," I said, suddenly feeling very awkward. For a moment, as we kissed, I'd forgotten about the intimacy Natashya and Emily had shared in Vegas. Now that she caught us kissing, memories of seeing my sister's nude form straddling the dancer resurfaced, and I found myself feeling very self-conscious about that fact. "It's fine. We were just..." Just what? Talking?

"I should've knocked."

"Don't be ridiculous, Emily," Natashya said amusedly. "You live here now, yes?"

"I... Yeah?"

"Then you shouldn't have to knock. Besides, we were just kissing. wanted Marcus to remind me that I don't hate men now.

That is all.