This is not a fucking spy movie, but it could as well be one with how I’m acting right now.
Shaking my head to clear those thoughts, I move into one of the stalls and slide the bolt in. I put the toilet seat down in another second and place my bag on top. Opening the zipper, I rummage through it, pulling out my outfit. I change into the hoodie first, and then shrug on the jeans and a baseball cap.
When I come out of the stall, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I could pass for a little teenage boy going through puberty, without the acne, of course. I have a perfect face. My self-absorbed being locates the window in the bathroom. It’s a big window; I can climb out without jumping.
I look around to see if I can find any of the familiar faces Alexei put on to tail me. Coming up empty, I do a little victory dance and open the window. And then, placing one foot in front of the other, I step out. With everything clear around me, I power walk without thinking twice, blending into the crowd.
With the testosterone and fan girls breathing down my neck, I take out my phone, shooting a text to Sergei.
Hey, I’ll be there in about 10 minutes. Okay?
Delivered
As soon as the message goes through, I wipe it from my screen. I have no clue if Alexei is monitoring me, but I wouldn't put it past him.
I have a total of twenty minutes to finish my meeting with Sergei and then find a way to come back.
Chapter 40
Zoya
I take my first breath of relief outside the school, with no one tailing me. Flagging a taxi down, I slide into the back seat, a little smile on my face. The cab driver looks back at me with a narrowed gaze. I can’t blame him. I’m in a suspicious getup. But when I flash a smile at him, he probably takes that to mean I’m not harmless and starts driving.
The streets blow past us, in tune with my heart hammering in my chest, wondering if Sasha has already come back with my water. I didn’t mean to run away like that and make her life difficult. I know Alexei is going to chew her out. But I have to do this. I really do.
After a few minutes of driving, the cab pulls over in front of the café I chose. It’s a secluded one, close to the expensive areas in Russia. If we meet at a sketchy location, I’m scared that there will be a high chance that Dato has people planted there to assassinate me. I’d rather be safe than sorry.
Getting out of the cab, I pay the driver and head into the café. A woman in the same uniform as the other ladies I can see scattered inside approaches. “Hello, ma’am,” she greets in a high-pitched tone. “Would you like a table?”
I shake my head. “I have a reservation with Sergei.”
“Right. Okay,” she nods. “This way, ma’am.”
I follow her lead further into the café until we get to a secluded area. I see the tuft of Sergei’s head. He’s looking down, typing something into his phone. The minute he sees me, he gets on his feet, waving me over.
I slide into the booth with a quick smile, looking at Sergei. He still looks like he just got out of bed, except his white hairis becoming a lot more visible. He usually dyes it the second it shows, and I used to tease him about it constantly.
“Why don’t you ever wanna grow old?”I would ask.
And then he would respond,“Well, the girls are still coming after me. I still have to keep up with these twenty-year-olds.”I laugh thinking about it. I can see him trying to get my reaction.
“You look different,” he says, bringing my mind to the present.
“Different how?”
“Well, I mean, you’re getting a little fat.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Okay. Did I say I was coming here to talk about my weight? And if we’re talking about looks, you know you’re getting too old to keep dyeing your hair, right?”
A chuckle escapes his throat. “Yeah. That’s the Zoya I know. I thought we’d lost you after… You know… Anyways….” He turns to the corner, reaching his hand for a folder on the seat, and then places it on the table. “I did a little digging and found your man.”
My eyes light up. “So who is he?”
Sergei puts his hand inside the file and brings out a photograph. Then he turns to me. “Your man’s name is Levan Janelidze.”
I look at the picture. It’s a formal portrait. But this particular one - the background looks like old Russia. There are buildings that are no more, broken down and created into new structures that even I know of. In the picture, he has dark hair, a suit, and a genuine smile that makes him look like he wouldn’t hurt a fly. Still, you can tell he's incredibly confident, even though it's just a quick shot when he wasn't ready for the camera.
Yet I know for a fact that behind all that, he still looks dangerous.