Thief Ch 04

It was no easy feat, getting a job, especially when she had only been able to secure a High school diploma.

Charlie had never envisioned herself in a conventional office. To be sincere, the idea of getting a job had never been considered by her, even as a child. A lot of kids had dream careers, or something they looked forward to, but not Charlie. She had always figured her height would be somewhere at High school. She didn't have the parents to fund a college education for her, and by the time she was done with High School, there was no motivation to further her education.

She wasn't like Maris. Her friend had supportive parents who had helped pay her school fees through college, and would probably still be funding Maris' lifestyle, if she hadn't bailed on them and chosen to find her own path.

It was a decision Charlie never understood, but supported still. Maris had never judged her for being a loafer, so, her commentary on how she chose to handle her family was unnecessary.

She stared at the screen in front of her. She was going through the website of another community college she wholly planned to never apply for. It was just some other pastime of hers; checking out schools she wouldn't be able to enroll in.

Charlie understood the need to find stability in her life though. She wouldn't be young forever and Maris wouldn't be her anchor forever either. One day, her friend would find a man she wanted to start a family with and they would have to kick her out of their home...before that day though, she needed to figure out a way to keep them in their own home.

She blew a raspberry as she recalled her attempt to find that way two days ago. The pawn shop owner had looked her over, studied the watch, and even before the words left his lips, Charlie instantly recognised that this man knew the watch was stolen. Perhaps, it was why he had made the utterly ridiculous offer of $500. Now, she had not done her research before presenting it, but the man who had bedded her that night, did not seem like someone who walked around with a $500 wristwatch, and as little knowledge as Charlie had with accessories and jewellry, the mere look of that watch put it somewhere in the thousands.

The sound of the door being unlocked alerted her to Maris' presence, the following slam had her whipping her head toward the doorway.

Maris marched in, muttering angrily under her breath, a deep frown on her otherwise pretty face, "I swear that man is an insufferable fool!" She spat, her words filled with all the derision Charlie imagined their landlord could spark in any reasonable being.

"I take it the attempt to negotiate with Anders didn't go well?"

Maris scoffed, "He wouldn't even let me say a word. He just kept telling me it couldn't be helped. I'm sure he has someone with a ridiculous offer and he just wants to get us out of the way."

Charlie sighed softly, "Well, how much do we need to complete the rent?"

Maris visibly calmed down and focused her gaze on Charlie, "You don't need to worry about that Charlie, I'll just find some other way to get the money...maybe I'll call my parents."

Charlie shook her head, unwilling to let her friend go crawling back to her parents after she had so strongly rejected their help a year ago, "No, I...I have some way to get some money, I'm sure I can get enough to afford us the rent" she stated.

The suspicious look Maris gave her almost had Charlie wishing she could take back those words. She was about to be hit with a barrage of questions, and if there was any doubt about that, Maris' raised brow cancelled it, "How do you mean, 'you have some way to get us some money'? I hope you haven't involved yourself in anything illegal, Charlie." She said, sounding every bit like Ernestine in this moment. Sometimes, Charlie swore her friend had not escaped the clutches of her parents without absorbing some of her Nigerian mother's mannerisms.

Charlie shook her head, "If you're worried the police is going to come barging in here, then I can assure you, you need not worry" she stated, with all the confidence of a practiced liar, "I did this job some days back, and got rewarded with a valuable item I can trade for cash."

"You did a job..." Maris began, her sharp gaze fixed on Charlie, "...and the person did not think to pay you in cash, but in valuables?"

She shrugged, "People pay with what they can afford."

"Valuables, Charlie?" She asked, in an accusatory tone.

Charlie rolled her eyes, "Do you want the money or not, Maris?"

"It depends on whether I will be arrested as an accessory to a crime, or not."

Charlie rose from her seating position with a click of her tongue, "Don't worry, a SWAT team won't bust open our doors at midnight." She walked out of the living room and to her bedroom to retrieve the watch, very much aware of Maris' gaze following her movement.

So, maybe she'd have to go back to that pawnshop and accept an offer, but Charlie would make for certain the shop owner coughed out more than just a measly $500.

****

The walk down to the pawnshop was made longer by Charlie's heavy thoughts.

She fiddled with the wrist watch, her thoughts straying to the owner once again. It really couldn't be helped. She had been haunted by blue eyes and a smoky voice for days. It felt like he had a hold on her, and Charlie could only guess that was unhealthy, considering she would never see him again. Was this one of those memories that would never leave you? Whenever such memories were spoken of, Charlie had often related them to family, or impactful moments like graduations or a great vacation, never had she imagined a night of passionate sex would be included on a list of unforgettable memories, and damn if she didn't wish she could forget it.

Maybe if she got rid of his wrist watch, she wouldn't be haunted by thoughts of him anymore. In fact, once she had sold this thing, she would hopefully have enough to go to a bar or a club and find some random guy to help her forget this one. Yes, it would be out of character for her, but the guy from the hotel had introduced her to a different side of her, one she was ready to explore if it meant ridding herself of memories of him.

She reached the pawnshop, and opened the door, only to stop in her tracks at the sight before her. So occupied had she been with her thoughts, she hadn't noticed the cars parked outside, but there was no mistaking the uniformed men at the counter, speaking to the shop owner.

All three men turned to her in unison, and Charlie finally understood the concept of being frozen in place. Her mouth went dry, her eyes grew wide and her grip on the watch loosened, even before the shop owner pointed to her rather dramatically, declaring, "That's her officer, that's the girl that came in with the Patek."

Fuck!

****

He was losing his mind.

And no, it wasn't at all in a good way.

Sergei couldn't count the amount of times he had checked his phone over the last 48 hours for a missed call, or how many times he had casually asked Dimitri if the police had reached out to him yet, yes, he tried to play it cool, but he was certain if he asked Dimitri the same question one more time, he would be found out.

He couldn't even claim his eagerness to receive a call had anything to do with the retrieval of his watch. Yes, it was a very expensive watch, but he had a lot of such watches and this one had no sentimental value even. He could have very well let it go, and he had been prepared to do that, until Dimitri presented the perfect idea to lure in his mystery girl, and now, he was hoping he hadn't acted too late and missed out on her.

They would be leaving the United States in a matter of hours, having concluded the business that brought them over. His cousins were understandably excited at the idea of returning to Russia, and if he didn't have the ghost of his one night stand lingering in the fore of his mind, Sergei would have shared in their excitement. He, like his cousins, abhorred the idea of staying in America longer than was necessary. There was just something so heavily pretentious about the country that unsettled them.

But for the first time in his life, Sergei found himself dreading the thought of leaving. Despite the business he came here for being finished, he still had some unfinished business. His stomach curdled as it would if he were on a rollercoaster, his nerves ached and his throat became parched at the thought of leaving without meeting her...

He could do nothing about the situation if the police didn't find her, and there was no way Dimitri or any of his cousins would let him continue on this seemingly endless path. He had only just gotten control of his father's business, showing leadership included putting aside his selfish wants. He couldn't imagine what his men would think if he kept them here longer than was necessary, because of some tryst he had been part of, with a girl whose name he didn't know.

"Hey, Brat." Mikhail called over a glass of vodka, a lazy smile upon his lips, "...are you okay?" He asked, in Russian.

Sergei forced a smile on his face, as he responded, "Yes, I'm just sick of this country." He responded with a smoothness that came from many years of keeping his true feelings hidden.

Mikhail laughed hysterically, and Sergei chuckled in response, "Don't worry, we'll be out of this shithole in a few hours." Mikhail assured him, this time in a heavily accented English.

Sergei nodded in response and then watched Mikhail walk away to join the others.

Moments later, Dimitri was at his side, observing the rest of the men, while withholding his words. Sergei could feel the weight of his cousin's presence, as he took a sip of the whiskey in his hand. Dimitri was the only one who had any knowledge of his true feelings, but Sergei guessed his cousin would not approve of his handling of the situation, much like even he struggled to approve of it. This was so unlike him, he would have ripped into any of his men if they dared to act in this manner. Yet...

"It is not the country making you sick this time, is it?" Dimitri asked, his words heavy with meaning.

Sergei was quiet for a bit, as if considering the repercussions of telling a lie, before deciding it wasn't worth the hassle, "It is all same in my eyes." A vague enough answer.

Dimitri chuckled, "But it is not all same brat, is it?" He asked directly.

This time, Sergei elected to not respond, unwilling to tackle the reality that faced him. Whatever feelings he harboured for that girl, he would have to get rid of it all the moment he got on the plane to Russia, yet, for the first time in his life, he did not think it something he would be able to do with ease. It was best he wrap the idea of her in the same box he kept the idea of this country, perhaps, it would make him loathe the country more.

Thankfully, before Dimitri could force a response out of him, he felt the vibration of his phone in his pocket and quickly retrieved it. A spark of hope lit in his chest, as he saw an unknown phone number on the screen, that spark became a fire when he picked the call

"Hello, this is Detective Jake Davis, am I on to Sergei Romanov?"

"Yes, this is he." Sergei replied, as he sat up slowly.

"Mr. Romanov, we've apprehended the lady we believe snuck into your room and stole your phone. We'll need you to come in for identification."

"Yes, I'll be there in a bit." He responded, as his hopeful gaze fell on his cousin, who instantly figured the subject of the call.

"I guess we're about to get the cure to your sickness." Dimitri stated, as they both excused themselves from the rest of the group to head to the police station.