Graduation (Kingmakers, #5)

by Sophie Lark

“Zdravstvuyte,” he says, taking down the vodka for our drinks. “Dobryy vecher,” Sabrina replies, trying out one of her newly learned greetings. “Very good.” Mykah nods his approval. “It’s shit,” Sabrina sighs, “but I’ll learn.” “Russian is very easy language,” Mykah agrees. “It only take me three years to learn, and I was baby at time.” He roars with laughter, Sabrina laughing too, though more at Mykah himself than at his witticisms. “What you do here with this one?” Mykah points his bar towel at me. “You know he is very bad guy.” “Adrik?” Sabrina says, eyebrows raised in mock surprise. “He told me he was an Elvis impersonator.” “Elvis!” Mykah chortles, spraying my arm with a little bit of spit. “Get me comb, I see it now.” He holds up his hands, framing my hair, squinting and picturing me with a pompadour. With his fingers spread, I can easily see the missing fingers on his right hand. “Buy your own comb,” I say, throwing down some cash and picking up our drinks.