Page 19 of Silent Ties

“Is there a raspberry cheese pastry?” I ask as the car idles at a red light.

The men have the audacity to begin speaking to each other in Russian.

I lean forward between the two front seats and point at a drugstore. “Pull over,” I demand, “and one of you go in there and get me a box of tampons.”

The idiots share a look of horror but the bald guy, Sergei, nods. Once the light turns green they pull up to the curb and he opens the door for me.

“Thank you.” I don’t know why I bother with niceties when they didn’t even want to stop in the first place. But as we enter the coffee shop, I ask him if he’d like anything.

“No.” He stands next to me, arms crossed, while I study the pastry selection as the line crawls in front of us.

He never fidgets but I can tell he’d rather be waterboarding an Italian mafia soldier than stand in this hellscape, otherwise known as a coffee shop. Alternative music plays and the tables are full of students on laptops. A child wails. The mother, who’s probably a tourist and been on her feet all morning, miserably tries to feed her some yogurt.

“A medium caramel macchiato please. Oh, can you add anextra shot of vanilla. Thanks. And two everything bagels, a raspberry pastry and that.” I point at something that looks good.

Sergei’s lips press together, ashamed of my order.

“He hasn’t gotten my tampons.” I nod to the guard who managed to find a parking spot along the curb.

Sighing, Sergei motions to the other Russian, and I step back into the crowd of waiting coffee lovers.

“That’s a beautiful ring,” a woman beside me says.

The two carat diamond burns my finger.

Anytime I leave it on the bedside table I get pointed looks from Olga or Maxim. Before he left this morning, he sank down on the edge of the mattress, slipping it onto my finger. For a second, I pretended he was being romantic. But really he just wanted to remind me of my place.

“Thanks,” I say, trepidation tightening my stomach.

Gloria’s smiles never reach her eyes and today is no different. Her heavy kohl liner is smudged and she smirks. “Recently married?”

“Yep.”

“Thinking about children yet?”

What’s the point of being stuck with guards if you can’t use them as personal hitmen?

Sergei warily looks my way, his bulky shoulders and severe facial expression out of place. He takes Gloria for a fawning woman as she continues to point toward my ring.

“No,” I tell her. I am not thinking about children.

She pulls out a sonogram photo and my mouth dries. “My daughter just announced her pregnancy. Took her to her first appointment yesterday.”

Tears prick at my eyes. It should’ve been me at Daisy’s doctor appointment.

“Beautiful.” I’m not joking. There’s a new type of tension in my shoulders, my throat tight as I struggle to keep calm. Tokeep pretending that Gloria is just an overly excited soon-to-be grandma. “And everything is. . . healthy?”

“Yes. She’s due early September. ” She tucks the picture back into her purse too quickly. I want to keep it but know it’s impossible. Even if I took a photo on my phone it would lead to awkward questions. “Of course, mother is hoping for a girl, but it’s too early to tell. She’s quite a wild one, my Daisy.”

Her Daisy. I swallow a lump of emotion, my mouth tasting funny now. Marissa’s little helper has no business talking about Daisy like she knows her.

A barista calls out names. People shuffle to get their coffees.

“Though, I suppose you’d know all about Daisy’s wild ways.” Gloria’s voice is no longer soft and cheerful. This is her true tone—the cold, demanding soldier.

“She’s supposed to be out.” That was what I agreed to. Being Marissa’s pawn for her stupid joke in return for Daisy’s safety.

“Do you know how expensive it is to live in the city these days?” Gloria tsks. “Relax. She’s surrounded by loving tías.”