Billionaire Flawed 1(338)

He was right, and she'd never seen it. How could she have been so lacking in understanding, she thought? Yes I guess that's it. That makes what happened all the harder to bear. I was being selfish. Have you got another tissue?

Sure, here.

“One weekend, I decided I wouldn't go to them. I decided to make a stand and insist they come to me. I called them and started to moan at them. A tear managed to escape the tissue and trickle down her cheek. If I remember correctly I told them they were unfeeling, and not interested in me. I asked them why they hadn't been to see me, and I told them to get in their car and come otherwise I wouldn't go home anymore.

A moment of weakness,' he said.

A moment of madness. I don't know why. Suddenly I was lonely and afraid in the big city, and I needed them. It was pure selfishness. Anyhow, that morning it was foggy. So very foggy, she shook her head. I knew dad hated driving in fog, and although he told me it was too foggy, I simply didn't listen. I just kept on moaning.

Dima already knew the rest of the story and thought she'd told him enough. It's okay I get the picture, you don't need to go on.

But Tyra wanted to go on. She wanted to finish. She wanted to confront herself. Dad and mom, put on their Sunday best clothes, filled the car with food, including three pots of my favorite honey, and set off, in fifty-meter visibility. I don't know if I can go on now, she thought. She took a glass from the table and tried to pour herself some water. When he saw her hand trembling, Dima took over.

Dad didn't drive too often. He only worked down the road, and he walked. Mom went on the bus. I don't even know why they had a car. Dad didn't see the slow moving truck until it was too late. She stopped and let out an sight.  He ran into the back of it, bounced off it and lost control. They found them at the bottom of a ravine. The car was burned out.

Dima just stared at her. Even for him, a man who had dispatched his own father, it was a horrendous story. Tyra, I...... She looked at him and saw he was grieving for her.

Thank you. Thank you for listening to me. A perfect stranger and he'd listened to her not because he was curious, but she was convinced because he wanted to help. How do I look, she asked.

Your mascara has run a bit.

Okay, give me a minute and I'll be back. She hurried to the rest room to repair the damage.

Three security camera's here, he noted. Six in the main store. In need to get her to take me into the strong room, he told himself.

That's better, she said when she reappeared. What about the jewelry? she asked.

I'll take it, it's perfect. he said, noting how refreshed she now looked.

Don't you want to see anything else, you never know, you might change your mind.

No, if I may say so, you have chosen the perfect gift, right from the start. Can you get them wrapped for me?

Sure, that's the least problem. Do you have a sure means of getting them home? We offer a .......

No it's okay. People don't tend to steal from me. Tyra noticed a flash of brutality in his voice.

Talking of security, you must have a lot here if they trust you with the Hope Diamond.

Yes I suppose we do. It's not really my department, although I guess one day I'll have to learn about it.

Seeing as I spent so much here today, how about you show me where the Hope Diamond will be displayed. I'd love to have a preview.

It's just a blank room with a lot of cameras, it's really not that exciting.

Of course, he said. Don't push it, you've got her in the palm of your hand, he thought. Well maybe I'll buy a ticket and come and see it when it's here. Listen, Tyra, I have enjoyed our chat. You are a fantastic lady. Would you care to go on a date with me?

A date? In her state? Nothing had been further from her mind, she thought. Yes, I'd like that. The words slipped out before she could help herself.







What do you mean you didn't get to see it? Sergey demanded to know. You told me you had her eating from the palm of your hand. Sergey was leaning against the wall in his store. Over the door, it said, 'Russian Store.' It was really a front. Sergey used it to wash the cash he earned from his illegal drug dealing. The shop on Brighton Beach was big enough to put plenty of money through it but small enough to stay under the radar of the big boys.

He was not at all like his compatriot Dima. He was short, overweight and bald. The tattoo he had on his neck did nothing to enhance his appearance. They had been friends in Moscow and come to America together to further their business interests. In the case of Sergey, that meant, extortion, drug dealing, and contract killing. Since Dima had arrived in the US, he'd quickly realized that it was possible to make money legally. He was increasingly involved in real estate. He'd made a fortune in Russia by buying cheap stocks in major companies and selling them again. Luckily for him, he'd managed to get his cash to the US before the Rubel crashed.