Bad Teacher (Temp Title)

9| Distracted

Nickolai

The moment silence echoes throughout the bar, I know I’m about to be paid a visit.

A shift in energy like that meant only one thing; I wasn't about to get the time I so desperately wanted to spend with myself and my as.

I’ve strictly asked for the time to be alone tonight and I knew The Void has always provided me with a type of solitudes—I came here when I was around the area. It couldn’t keep me away from my family though, and it seems that reinforcements have been sent.

The Russian lady that everybody has their jaw dropping for was potent and mean. And then the heels. Those damn sky high heels she always wore that worsened her presence.

As I throw my drink back, my mind wanders back to the times I’ve seen her murder grown men with those fucking shoes. She’s as dangerous as the rest of us, and everybody knew it. Either through reputation or just knowing with one look.  I rub a hand over my face and patiently wait as the sound of her clicking heels nears and nears until her spicy perfume reaches my nose. I sigh when she lowers herself into the seat across from me with a glare already edged onto that face. “What’s with the sour puss?” She questions. The hard roll of her ‘r’s indicted her

Seriously? I’m the one with the sour puss?

“I wanted to be alone tonight,” I state, leaning back into my seat when she continues to stare at me. Honestly, if looks could kill I’d be dead by now.

Her shrug indicates that she gives zero fucks that I’ve explicitly stated my wishes. She's always been the only one to blatantly challenge me, and because she was the wife of my brother, she made sure to yap as much as she could.

A waitress steps forward and gives me another of mine and the usual that Helena drinks when she’s here—Vodka on ice.

“I heard. I thought I’d come and support. I’m a good therapist, no?”

I scoff in disbelief. She can’t seriously believe that she is a good therapist.

Especially since we both knew she murdered her last therapist. Did I forget to mention that she eventually became just as crazy as my brother? “You’re a fucking shit therapist,” I grumble, annoyed with her presence. “And I am in no need for therapy. I just want to have a few drinks and then go home.”

That’s why Valentin sent her. Her eyes narrow into slits, and I prepare myself for the worst. Especially when she leans her elbows onto the table.

“You have been in a shit mood ever since the missing shipment, and it’s worsened over the last days.”

She’s right. My mood has been deteriorating for weeks now and I’ve been giving everybody hell for it.

“You know what?” She asks and reaches into her red clutch bag and hands me a cigarette before she lights on herself. After her first exhale, she goes about telling me more of her unwanted thoughts. “Your brother was right. Your balls are full.”

I curse underneath my breath and I despise that I’m a topic whenever I’m not around.

I light my own cigarette, inhaling the nicotine as if it’ll be the cure to all my problems, but I know better. A distraction that’ll kill me eventually. It might have bothered me. If only I were afraid to die.

“You need pussy.”

Yes. Always reminding me to get laid. Because fucking some random will make me forget about all the shit I have to deal with the moment I wake up the next morning.

“I’d still have the same issues even after I cum,” I remind her.

The combined smoke from our cigarettes waft between us, and that piercing gaze continues to pierce me.