An Enforcer Bonus Story (with cameos from Vegas Underground)
Oleg
There are security guards positioned all around the stage at The Bellissimo. They appear capable. Well-trained. They carry the same air of intimidation I would use if I were in their place.
Still, my body vibrates with the potential danger, the need to protect my lastochka in the forefront of my mind. But as much as I want to take their place, I also need to watch the show. To see the Storyteller’s big debut as they open for pop star Pepper Heart.
Normally, I’d rather stick a fork in my eye than be in a packed Las Vegas casino on New Year’s Eve, but anything that makes my little songbird glow pleases me, even if I am edgy as hell with the urge to protect her.
Tonight she’s beyond glowing. Standing up on the stage at The Bellissimo, she’s brighter than every spotlight shining on her combined.
“What’s up, Vegas?” My lastochka croons into the mic after they finish their opening number. She looks incredible, as always. She’s wearing a pair of sparkly plum painted-on pants with a matching cropped halter top–Nadia’s design. The guys in the band have suit coats or bowties in the same fabric. Flynn’s in a top hat and thin plum tie.
Girls in the audience scream his name. It’s a good thing he would never stray from Nadia or her brother Adrian would snap the guy’s neck.
“We are beyond honored to be here tonight, opening for the inimitable Pepper Heart!”
The crowd cheers again, but they’re screaming “Story” and “Flynn”. I swear more of them are here to see the Storytellers than the Pepper Heart, the headliner. With the Storytellers meteoric rise via Tiktok, they have a cult following on their own now.
Music-wise, it’s an odd mix, since Pepper is pop and the Storytellers are more punk, but Sasha and Maxim worked a bratva connection to get them in here. The casino is owned by the Tacone Family–Italian mob–but a bratva pakhan married into the family. Actually, I think the story is that he kidnapped their sister as a form of revenge, but ended up claiming her as his own and making good with the Family.
I refused the offer of the VIP box where the rest of our friends watch the show. I need to be close to the stage in case anything happens. In case Story wants to throw herself out into my arms, or needs me somehow. I stand to the side of the front apron of the stage, beside Tony Brando, Pepper Heart’s husband, who I’m certain is mafia.
Story introduces their next song and they shift into their well-rehearsed set. No ad-libbing or playing things on the fly tonight–which is one of their gifts. This is their big moment and they wanted everything to be practiced and slick.
I love Story so much my chest aches. There are moments like this when I’m certain she will grow beyond me. She’s going to be a superstar. She doesn’t need a Russian mafiya enforcer with a criminal record for a husband.
That’s why I haven’t pressured her to set a wedding date. I put an engagement ring on her finger, but told her when the time was right, we’d know. I guess that was my way of giving her an out. I know she’s had commitment issues in the past.
Her childhood made her reluctant to fall in love. Afraid of endings.
I know she’s sure of me. What I don’t know, is whether she’s sure of herself. Whether I’m what she wants long-term. Whether I fit her superstar future.
Why would I pressure her? I know there are no guarantees in life. I’m content with the present. This moment.
My beautiful rock star up on that stage, performing her heart out. Receiving the energy from the crowd. If I had nothing more than moments like this–watching her living out her dreams–it would be enough.
At the end of their set, the Storytellers start playing a faster, punky version of one of Pepper Heart’s songs. The crowd goes insane.
They go even more insane when Pepper jogs out on stage with a mic in hand to join them. The band got permission from Pepper beforehand, and they had a chance to rehearse it once before the show.
Beside me, Tony tenses, obviously as protective of his star as I am of mine. And with good reason. Pepper is six months pregnant, her swollen belly on full display in a crop top with pieces that drape long around it like sheer curtains. I understand this is her only performance this year due to the pregnancy.
The entire concert hall sings along, lifting their voices, jumping up and down, dancing. Screaming.
I don’t take my eyes off Story. She’s in her element. Full of life. Full of joy. So beautiful it hurts.
When the song wraps up, the crowd screams and cheers again–their ecstasy going on and on.
“Thank you! Thank you so much,” Story calls. “Isn’t she magnificent?” She waves her mic up and down Pepper’s beautiful form.
Pepper laughs.
“I have a secret to tell you.” Story smiles out at the crowd. “You’re getting all the divine mother vibes here tonight. If any of you are trying to get pregnant, we have the fertility magic going strong. Breathe it in, ladies, because you have not just one, but two rock star babies up here on stage right now.”
I stare, trying to decode her meaning. Two…rock star babies? Pepper’s having twins?
She walks to the edge of the stage, shields her eyes from the spotlights and looks right at me. “I’m pregnant.” She beams at me. “He doesn’t know yet,” she says to the crowd. “We’re having a baby!”
In my mind, I rush the stage to drag her into my arms, but my blood doesn’t flow to my legs. In fact, I turn into a complete statue while Story laughs, the crowd cheers and the band play a few celebratory notes.
“You okay? Congratulations. Come here.” Tony drags me to the door that leads back stage and then I find her.
Or, rather, she finds me, vaulting into my arms in that singular way of hers. Straddling my waist, strangling my neck, laughing as I still try to find my mind.
I fall to my knees, still holding my beautiful lastochka.
The Storytellers have come off stage. The Bellissimo stage crew is clearing the stage for Pepper’s performance. Things are happening all around us, but I’m just working to breathe.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Keep my eyes dry.
Breathe.
“You okay?” Story cups my face in her hands, examining my stunned expression with a huge smile.
I manage to nod. “Marry me,” I manage to croak.
They were the words I’d worked so hard to learn with my speech therapist. I still hate hearing myself speak without a tongue, but I try. For Story, I’d do anything.
Story climbs out of my arms to stand. “I know. It’s time, right?” Her smile is brighter than the stars. Warmer than the sun. “Drive-thru chapel?”
Somehow, I manage to nod.
#
Story
My giant teddy bear of a protector doesn’t speak much anyway–he can’t without a tongue–but he’s reverted to his full non-communication mode. We’re in the back of the limo provided by Nico Tacone, the owner of The Bellissimo, and head of the Vegas branch of the Tacone mafia.
I’m on Oleg’s lap and we’re surrounded by our friends. Maxim and Sasha, Chelle and Nikolai, Dima and Natasha are in this limo with us. In the two limos behind us ride Ravil and Lucy, Adrian and Kat, Kayla and Pavel and the rest of the band. We invited the Tacones along, and one couple–Stefano Tacone and his redheaded wife Corey decided to come, too. Flynn and Nadia ride with our parents and our baby sister, Dahlia.
“Are you okay?” I ask Oleg again.
He works to swallow and nods.
“Are you happy?”
Another nod. His warm brown gaze is glued to my face with fierce intent, but he doesn’t look particularly happy.
“Are you freaking out?”
He brushes a light kiss across my cleavage. Are you sure? He signs.
“Am I sure I’m pregnant? Or am I sure I want to marry you?”
Our friends briefly fall silent, then very obviously try to make conversation amongst themselves to give us privacy.
“Yes on both counts.”
He falls back against the seat, then a slow smile starts to creep around his normally inexpressive mouth.
“We’re having a baby,” I murmur seductively in his ear. “I told you I wanted a big family.”
His smile grows. The shock has finally worn off. The happiness I was hoping to see is appearing. “You’re going to be a great dad.”
I see doubt cloud his gaze once more, but his nod holds a world of promise in it. Knowing Oleg, who is already fiercely protective of me, becoming a father probably terrifies him. But I have no doubt he will be the most incredible father imaginable. He would never let me or our family down. Never in a million years.
He brushes his open palms up his chest a couple times in the sign for happy.
“Me too,” I murmur, tears of joy spearing my eyes.
“Now I can really call you Big Daddy.” I nip his ear.
He bites my shoulder.
The limo stops and we all topple out in front of an all-night chapel and start the paperwork.
When our friends show up, they have champagne and loads of flowers, including a bouquet for me to hold and petals to scatter as I walk. They fit me with a tiara and garter.
Flynn brought his electric guitar and he plugs in and plays “Here Comes the Bride” on it as I walk down the “aisle”.
The ceremony is ridiculous and perfect. We get married by an Elvis impersonator in a cheesy chapel with my family and all my best friends in the world present.
“By the power vested in me by the State of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Elvis says. “You may seal the marriage with a kiss.”
I reach for Oleg’s face and pull it down to mine, stroking my lips over his. In a flash, I’m up in his arms, straddling his waist, my tongue in his mouth. Exactly where I want to be for the rest of my life.
Happy New Year!
Love,
Renee
Coming Soon: The Gatekeeper
