The train rumbled down the track. The young woman stared at the newspaper in her lap but found it difficult to concentrate. She had no need to know of the Cuban Missile Crisis; in fact, she had just been to Cuba. The month long trip had not been very pleasant. She closed the newspaper and laid it next to the briefcase on the seat beside her. Snow swirled outside the window, glinting like crystals despite the overcast sky; the most common thing in Russia managed to catch her attention. Everyone else on the train had their noses buried in their newspapers, their faces a mask of seriousness.
For them it was just another workday. For her, today was a major event.
A boy dressed in black trousers and a crisp white shirt appeared. He had a cart full of hot beverages and small snacks in front of him. His gaze fell on the discarded news at her side. “Not interested in politics, miss?”
She didn’t appear to have heard him.
Snowflakes reflected in her hazel eyes, which had taken on a blank quality. He repeated his question, wondering if she was having some sort of a fit. If the girl was epileptic that would be a shame. He saw women of all kinds every day, beautiful women, but this one...
She was
enchanting : wavy blonde hair, ruby red lips, and tiny diamond earrings. As he already come to know, such women were dangerous. She would never give him the time of day on the street. The only reason they were so close now was because his job had granted him that favour.
The coat she wore, a sort of blue colour, separated her from a sea of browns. He had never seen anything like it. Unable to resist, he touched her shoulder, marvelling at the plush quality of the fur.
She turned towards him. Without a word, she glanced at the spot where their bodies met. As if she had stuck him with a hot poker, he recoiled and thrust his hand into his pockets. He realized too late that his uniform didn’t have any and chuckled nervously.
“Did you need something, sir?”
He cleared his throat, preparing a reasonable explanation for touching her, but his words died somewhere inside him. His palms began to sweat as she waited for him to speak. When nothing came out after several seconds had passed, she nodded at the cart.
“I’d like a coffee, please.”
“Right!” He wanted to weep, he was so relieved. “Milk or sugar?”
“Both.”
He prepared her drink and handed it to her. She accepted it with a small smile. And with that, he knew he had been dismissed. Other people on board began to shift in their seats, impatient for their drinks to arrive. He walked away from her and resisted the urge to look back just once more. He never saw her again.
***
After hours of travel, the train shuddered to a halt. Everyone seemed to jump to their feet at the same time; they were that desperate to get off. Although this was the first class carriage, no one on board got fresh air. The blonde got up and adjusted her coat, wrapping it tightly around herself. After a pause, she picked up the briefcase.
She stepped off the train just as an icy wind blew by. Her cheeks smarted with the sudden cold, but otherwise she was comfortable enough. A group of people waiting to get their papers checked looked as if they wanted to shoot themselves. Nearly everyone in the country had felt that particular desire by the time they were ten. Welcome home, indeed.
A man in a drab uniform straightened as she approached the check-in desk.
“Passport?” He furrowed his brow as she reached into her pocket and handed it to him. “That’s not a safe place to keep your documents. Don’t all women find it necessary to have a bag?”
“My luggage was shipped home ahead of me.”
He grunted and flipped the passport open. She knew what he was reading: Karilla Marinavna Novikov. This reaction had gotten old long ago. When she was younger, she remembered asking security if they had a television set; anyone so impressed with something as boring as the family she belonged to had no life.
“
Cuba.” He spoke as if the word were made of lead. “That’s no place for a woman.”
“I suppose not.”
“Business or pleasure?”
“Are you suspicious of a respectable woman, sir?” She held up the briefcase. “If you’d like, I could open it for you. But I’m afraid you won’t find much more than a few cartons of cigars.” He still appeared uncertain, so she switched tactics. “Do I match my picture?”
Attention diverted, his eyes flickered from the photo to her face. “Yes. Surprisingly.”
“Oh?”
“As a rule, people tend to look worse in passport photos.” He handed the document back to her. “You’re pretty both in still life and reality. Guess that law’s been broken.”
“I’m a law-abiding citizen.” Her tone became grave. “Don’t arrest me.”
“Of course not, I was merely—”
She smiled. “Good day.”
The man wondered if he had been played for a fool but dismissed the thought.
***
Karilla quickened her pace when the building came into view. After being away from home, the concrete towers looked more inviting than imposing. The government allotted every citizen an apartment for free. That was one of the pluses of Communism. Conveniently, the wealthy managed to get better homes. Like the rest of Moscow’s upper crust, she knew that the dull exterior served a purpose: enemies of the state rarely searched such places, assuming no one of importance lived there.
She stood on the mat and slid her hand into her pocket. But no matter how deep she sunk her fingers she couldn’t find her key. Karilla realized her efforts were fruitless. Shifting from foot to foot, she knocked.
He’d enjoy this. After all the times she had made fun of him for being scatterbrained...
The door swung open and Karilla came face to face with a stranger.
The two women stared at each other. The redhead wore a fur coat that Karilla could tell at a glance was fake, as were the pearl earrings. Her mother’s luxury goods store had taught her about quality. But none of that mattered at the moment.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to be blunt. Who are you?”
The girl crossed her arms. “What’s it look like?”
“Hold the attitude.”
“Whatever. Ruslan didn’t tell me he had a girlfriend.”
“He has a lot of friends, female and otherwise.” Karilla walked over to the kitchen counter and opened a pack of cigarettes. “You shouldn’t be here. I’ll have to speak to him about his lack of manners.” She looked the girl from head to toe. “And taste.”
“Bitch.” The girl scowled. “Think you’re some princess?”
Karilla blew a stream of smoke into the air. “Leave.”
“Make me.”
“Relax, Stella.” The boy in the doorway grinned at the two girls. “Everything’s okay.”
“Ruslan!” Stella scuttled to his side. “She told me to get the hell out!”
"Did she?”
“Yes!” Stella buried her face in his shoulder. “She was just terrible, sugarpop!”
Karilla sat on the leather couch and set her briefcase on the floor with a thud. The couple turned to look at the source of the sound. She removed her boots with one hand, flexing her toes with relief. Her nail polish still looked decent. Coral pink never let her down.
Stella from sulked behind her man-shield. “She’s a bitch!”
Ruslan’s smile faded. “Stella?”
“Yes, lemondrop?”
“Get the hell out of my house.”
“You’ve been toying with my heart, haven’t you!” She clawed at him as he escorted her out the door. “You said that we would get married! For Christ’s sake, you said that you liked redheads! Liar!”
“Natural redheads. But to be honest, I go crazy for blondes.”
As the door closed she tried to stick her hand into the crack. “Call me?”
“I’m a busy guy.”
Stella kicked the door and promised to kill them when they least expected it. This threat didn’t have much effect; her voice was choked with tears. To her credit, they didn’t have to send for security. The sound of her retreating footsteps echoed down the hall.
“Charming.”
Ruslan sighed. “I always find the crazy ones. Sorry.”
He sat down beside her. Karilla stared straight ahead, inhaling smoke as if it were air. She had expected him to behave while she was out of the country. Of course that had been too much to ask. The one person who could shake her confidence had done just that.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Jealous?”
“Very funny.” She crushed her cigarette in the ashtray. “Just don’t bring them here.”
“Them?”
“I don’t want people you have relations with in my house.”
“Our house.” He brushed her hair out of her eyes. “Try to be reasonable.”
“You made us promise that we wouldn’t do things like this.”
“Right.” He took a breath. “Well, that’s because—”
“The thought of you bringing someone home at three in the morning makes me want to throw up. This place isn’t big enough for that.” She glanced at him. “In case you forgot, you’re my little brother.”
“I’m only seven minutes younger,” Ruslan said automatically.
“Home’s just me and you.”
The far-off look in his blue eyes unnerved her.
As if he sensed her worry, he enfolded her in his arms. She allowed this without fuss; he gave wonderful hugs. Ruslan would always be her baby brother and they would always be twins with an unbreakable bond. She loved him dearly and he felt the same.
They chatted about her trip. Karilla created a flawless story about finding investors for their mother’s business. She even had a witty anecdote about a run-in with the Cuban mafia. Ruslan laughed in all the right places. He didn’t know about the real nature of her work. That was one thing she couldn’t share with him. If he knew, he’d never let her out of his sight.
“And that’s when I met your little redheaded chum.”
“Karilla?”
“Hmm?”
“I think I’ll go out. You deserve a night to yourself.”
“Have you tired of my company already?”
“Not a chance! But you must be beat.”
“All the travel was exhausting,” she agreed.“Have fun.”
He kissed her cheek. “Night, sis.”
“You have your key, right?”
“Why?”
“No reason.”
“You don’t ask random questions.” He grinned. “Maybe I should borrow yours.”
Karilla couldn’t help but smile back. He knew her pretty well after all.
“Good night, brother.”
***
Karilla brushed the steam off the mirror and looked at her reflection. Her eyes were bright even though she hadn’t slept for two days. Even the smudged kohl gave a chic effect. Not that she had much interest in fashion. Her focus was elsewhere. She pinned her hair up—the steam from the bath caused it to frizz—and sunk into the antique tub.
The water, jade green thanks to a variety of oils, warmed her to the core. She nearly purred with satisfaction. Winter could do its worst; Russia had no problem making popsicles out of humans. She had passed her fair share of frozen corpses on the street. Technically, homeless people shouldn’t exist, but Communism was far from perfect.
Lulled by the water, she fell into a dreamlike state. Karilla allowed her mind to wander in the bath. Being focused on business all the time wasn’t good for a girl. With her guard down, she allowed him back into her thoughts. Did he know she had returned from Cuba? Of course not. She hadn’t told him. They had been giving one another the silent treatment just before she had been sent away.
She shivered. Chilly air seeped into the room,
Karilla glanced at the door. Funny. She thought she had shut it carefully. But this door wasn’t exactly known for being reliable; it didn’t even have a lock. There had been a few instances where her brother had gotten an eyeful but other than that...
“I didn’t know someone was home!”
She couldn’t make out the figure standing there, but this girl sounded different than the crazy Stella. A good sign. Karilla submerged herself beneath the water. She didn’t want to deal with this. Had Ruslan given a key to each and every one of his adoring posse and forgotten about it?
Lungs burning, Karilla surfaced for breath.
The door was closed. Maybe they had gotten the hint and left. But she heard someone walking around in the apartment. Karilla got out of the tub and grabbed her cashmere towel off the rack, using it as a makeshift dress. She didn’t bother to look decent.
She strode out of the bathroom, hair dripping.
A girl stood in the kitchen with her back to Karilla. Her light brown hair was swept up into a bun. She wore bright yellow gloves and held a bottle of dish soap. Karilla watched as she turned the tap on and began to load dishes into the sink.
“Excuse me—”
The stranger whirled around and dropped the bottle. It bounced off the ground, sliding over to Karilla’s feet. The girl murmured an apology and hurried over to get it. But Karilla had already knelt down. She held it out to the girl, who took it with averted eyes.
“You startled me. I’m usually more graceful.”
“I have no idea who you are.”
“I’m Kratasha. You must be Ruslan’s girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend?”
“He’s always talking about his beautiful blonde soul mate. You’re the only one I’ve seen who matches the description.” Kratasha seemed to be speaking to the floor. “I’m very fond of Ruslan. He’s been a delight to work for.”
“He hired you?”
“I come here three times a week to tidy up.”
“No wonder the place looks decent.” Karilla rubbed her temples. “I think he and I are going to have another chat. Honestly, he’s such a child. I’m gone for a month and he goes and hires a cleaner.”
“That long? I’m sure you missed each other very much.”
“He’s had other companionship, as you know.”
“Ruslan definitely loves you best. Don’t worry.”
“That’s troubling, to put it mildly.”
“Why? Aren’t you happy that—”
“Contrary to what he’s led you to believe, I’m actually his sister. Karilla.”
Kratasha finally looked her in the eyes. “You’re kidding.”
“Not in the slightest.”
“But the way he goes on about you—” She shook her head. “Perhaps it’s some other girl. Would you like me to come back tomorrow? I’ve obviously interrupted your bath. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right.”
“Really?”
“As of now, you’re no longer employed here.”
“You’re firing me?”
“I’m doing you a favour.”
Sweet girl, but they didn’t need a cleaner. How convenient of her brother to neglect mentioning this little detail. Show him any cute lady and she’d have a job. But it wasn’t Ruslan’s money at waste here. Neither of them needed to work, but Karilla was the one who chose to embark on a career instead of sucking their parents dry.
“I need the money.” She grabbed Karilla’s hand. “At least let Ruslan have some say.”
“He doesn’t get any until he proves that he’s reliable.”
“Please!”
“Take your things and go.”
Kratasha made no further protest; she walked back into the kitchen and turned the sink off. While Karilla waited for her to leave, she noticed something off about the area around the couch. She realized what was missing and felt a rush of excitement.
“Where’s my briefcase?”
A familiar click. “Don’t move.”
“Let’s be more personal.” Karilla turned to the gun and smiled. “Do your worst.”
