The VIP (18+ Only) [COMPLETED] [Winner of a Wattys 2014 Instant Addiction Award]

1: In Which She Gets the Low-Down on a Hook-Up

“You know I do,” I replied solemnly, stepping out the elevator and marching to my apartment door. “I want what my parents have. But not now. You know about my plan.”

I could picture Savita rolling her almond-shaped, hazel eyes as she snorted. “Oh, right – The Plan. Get a fulfilling job. Get your own house. Blow your nose and take a shit every two days. Get married at thirty. Did I miss something?”

I laughed, unlocking my door and pushing it open. “You're ridiculous but yeah, you get the gist. I’ll meet the guy of my dreams when I’m good and ready and not before.” Envelopes littered the entranceway, obviously pushed under the door. My brow furrowed. “Dammit, I told this man not to push things under my door. That’s why mailboxes were invented.”

“The super?” I’d totally forgotten Sav was still on the phone. “You're still beefing with the old guy?”

I collected the stack of letters and placed them on my coffee table. “We’re not beefing,” I lied. Edgar Fenwick, the building’s superintendent, and I had a short history of butting heads. He was intrusive and I was apparently condescending. “He deliberately does things to annoy me. That’s it.”

“Get over it. The guy’s, like, ninety. So Ryan has this colleague that I –”

“No way,” I interjected, quickly shutting that shit down. “No more. Evan was the last straw.”

“What was so wrong with Evan?”

I chewed my lower lip. Good question. What was so wrong with Evan? He was smart and didn’t think the Rosetta stone was a piece of jewellery. As an accountant, he was good with numbers yet didn’t show off about it. He wasn’t the handsomest guy but then again, I wasn’t superficial. Anymore. Still, he had a nice face and white teeth and maybe if he hadn’t asked for coffee, I would’ve considered going out with him again.

Who was I kidding?

“He didn’t excite me,” I confessed, idly picking up a thin envelope I knew contained my electricity bill. I was no longer a naïve teenager that believed in true love and boys like Mikhail Alvonich but surely a man had to at least make my heart race and nether regions throb.

A long silence met me from the other end of my phone before Savita offered tentatively, “I didn’t know that that was what you were looking for.”

“I’m not looking for excitement,” I emphasised, throwing the envelope back down and picking up another. “Jeez, Sav, this isn’t When Harry Met Sally.”

“And we’re back to Miss Cynical. I wondered when she’d make her reappearance.” She paused. “Well, Ryan has this friend who’s been in prison. Tax evasion, but that’s still exciting, right?”

“Not that kind of excitement. I’m not interested in Wesley Snipes.” I absentmindedly turned the cream-coloured envelope over and nearly bit my tongue. “Crap.”

“What? What is it?”

Ominously staring back at me was the Alvonich royal seal – a red circle with the black outline of a fox in the centre. Just that image brought back the memory of the first and only time I’d ever set foot in Ruslavia, ever set foot in the royal palace.

It had happened years ago yet it felt like only a day had passed since I’d had my first and only orgasm at the hands of my love interest’s uncle. Reliving the shame, I recalled how I’d made some lousy excuse about being summoned to join my parents in Corfu for Christmas. My friends – Mickey included – had seen me to the airport and I hadn’t been to Ruslavia since, although I’d had plenty of invitations.