AN: This chapter is a bit longer with lots of angst
TW: revoked consent
miffed
FRIDAY
Eve stands on the sidewalk a few paces down from V's Garage with a coffee in each hand and a paper bag under her arm. Her stomach was too twisted up in knots to be interested in muffins at the café but she grabbed three for Villanelle, chocolate chip, banana nut with chocolate chip, and cinnamon streusel, hoping that might put her in a good mood. After another minute of overthinking, Eve walks through the front door.
Hugo is at the Service Desk this morning instead of Villanelle, too focused on the papers he's rummaging through to notice the bell. Glancing through the glass walls, Eve locates Villanelle who appears a bit ruffled and irritable, ordering Bear and Jamie around, while behind the desk Hugo snatches a work order and turns for the door, startling when he sees Eve.
"Eve."
"Hi."
"Haven't seen you here in a while," he says, giving her a once over.
Eve creases her brow at him, shifting uncomfortably.
"I'll send her your way," Hugo says with a smirk.
Before he can reach for the door, Villanelle comes through huffing with anger, evidently already in a bad mood.
"Get out," she barks at Hugo, holding the door open and pointing with her chin.
"I was already going. Jesus."
As he slips out, Villanelle lets the door go so it smacks him in the heels.
"Uh, good morning," Eve tries. "I brought you coffee and muffins." She sets the items on the desk. "Chocolate chip, cinnamon something, and banana nut."
Villanelle takes her coffee without a "Thank you," ignoring the muffins. Eve nudges the paper bag towards her with a careful grin.
"I'm not hungry."
"Oh." Eve frowns. So much for that idea.
Villanelle sips her coffee, slurping it through the hole in the lid, staring at Eve over the top of her cup.
The clock ticks evenly.
Something metal falls in the garage and clanks around.
Eve blinks, her mind goes blank, the lines she rehearsed earlier disappear on the spot. Nervous, she starts to doubt the coffee, the muffins, her outfit, even coming in this morning.
"How are you?" she asks suddenly. "I mean, how are we? And how are you?" She fumbles terribly, trying again. "How are things with you? And us?" she adds quickly. "Jesus," she mutters to herself, shaking her head. She takes a breath. "I just feel like I haven't seen you since-"
"Since?"
"Since…"
Villanelle raises her brow.
"Uh…since"—Eve's gaze drifts to the side—"what day did you stay the night? Wednesday?"
"Hm."
Villanelle drinks her coffee, eyes never leaving Eve's. Her stomach growls, loud enough for Eve to hear, but she doesn't take a muffin.
"How are you?" Eve asks sincerely, pulling herself together some, walking around to the back of the desk and taking Villanelle's hand.
Villanelle draws back with an unsure expression, not knowing the best way to proceed, if she should act like she doesn't know that Eve was following her, wait and see if Eve brings it up first.
"Only employees are allowed behind the desk."
Eve presses her lips together. "Villanelle."
"What?" She shrugs. "I'm fine."
"Are you?"
"Are you?" Villanelle retorts.
"Yes."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Really?"
"Yes," Eve replies, creasing her brow. "Jesus, I didn't come here to"—she stops herself, holding in her irritation.
"Why did you come by?" Villanelle asks, raising her chin. "Hm?"
"To see you," Eve says, squeezing Villanelle's hand. "I wanted to see you." She pulls Villanelle closer.
Villanelle hesitates, tense and still uncertain, then wraps her arms around Eve, hugging her tight and letting out a sigh.
"I'm having some car trouble," Eve mutters after a moment.
"Eve, you don't own a car."
"I know I don't own a car," Eve says, leaning away to look at Villanelle. "It's Bill's."
Villanelle's stomach twists.
"What happened to it?"
"Can you just go outside and look at it?" Eve groans, resting her head on Villanelle's chest. "I'm too tired to explain."
"Eve."
"Just, please look at it."
In the lot behind the garage, the red Prius is parked poorly, a breeze blowing through the front seat, both windows missing, the windshield splintered, and tail lights broken including the bulb.
"How did this happen?" Villanelle asks, feeling uneasy.
"I, uh…" Eve clears her throat. "It was parked on the street outside my house," she explains, "and when I went out for work this morning I found it like that."
"On your street?" Villanelle asks without looking over.
"Mhm," Eve mutters, biting the inside of her cheek, noticing, then stopping.
"Did they take anything? Was anything missing?"
"My phone was stolen."
Villanelle grunts, almost a growl, and sets her jaw.
"You have a password?" she asks, glancing over at Eve, her face serious.
"Yeah," Eve answers slowly, nodding. "But…" She looks away.
"But what?"
Eve avoids Villanelle's gaze.
"Eve."
Eve bites her thumbnail, looking blankly at the Prius.
"Eve," Villanelle presses. "What is your password?"
"One," Eve mutters quietly. "Two…" She hesitates.
Villanelle crosses her arms and tilts her head to the side, already knowing the rest of the digits.
"Eve."
"Three." Eve draws in a breath then looks back at Villanelle and shrinks smaller. "Four."
"Eve!" Villanelle scolds.
"Well, I don't know," Eve replies, throwing up her hands. "No one was supposed to steal it. And now you have my password which is worse than some random person having it!"
"How is that worse?" Villanelle snaps.
"I don't know it just feels like it is."
"What do you have on there?" Villanelle demands with a furrowed brow.
"Nothing. Just"—Eve flounders for words, shoulders shrugged up.
Villanelle flashes her eyes. "Eve."
"Just messages and pictures," Eve blurts.
"Oh," Villanelle mutters. That's not so bad. Then she narrows her eyes skeptically. "I've never sent you any pictures."
"They're not like that," Eve replies tersely. "They're not even of you."
"What? Who?"
Eve cringes at her own mistake.
"Eve?" Villanelle growls, eyes wide waiting for an answer. Her face falls with a horrible thought. "Are you seeing someone else?"
"What? No," Eve snaps. "Jesus Christ. It's not like that."
"What is it like?" Villanelle demands, her voice taking on a deeper tone from indignation.
Inside the garage, Jess and Jamie listen to the argument while Hugo and Bear peer around the side to get a better glimpse of the action.
"Eve, why can't you just-"
"It's Niko, okay?" Eve lets out.
Hugo and Bear wince, ducking back around the corner where Jess and Jamie exchange a worried glance.
"Oh." Villanelle's neck tics. Her face hardens with anger. "Oh."
"It's not like that, Villanelle," Eve says, reaching for her hand.
"Sure." Villanelle nods, eyes detached, fixed on some point in the distance.
"They're just old photos from when he and I were together," Eve explains. "That's it. Nothing recent, I promise."
Villanelle nods absently.
"Trust me," Eve pleads, taking Villanelle's other hand and forcing her to meet her gaze. "Please."
Villanelle looks at Eve as though she might cry.
"Why don't you delete them?"
"I"—Eve clamps her jaw—"I can't." She sighs. "I can't get myself to do it. And I know that I need to get them off my phone and I want them off, believe me, I do," she goes on, "I don't want to carry them around anymore but I just haven't been able to do it but now my phone is gone so it doesn't even matter anyway."
"It matters," Villanelle says quietly.
"Villanelle, it's not like that," Eve tries to explain. "He was my husband. I can't just delete that part of my life."
"Why not?"
"Why not?" Eve retorts. "Are you serious?"
"Yes."
Eve scoffs in disbelief, shaking her head and letting go of Villanelle, glancing over at the Prius which only makes her more upset.
"Can you just delete parts of your life?" she asks. "Parts of your past you don't want to deal with anymore?"
Villanelle twitches, glitching a little.
"Can you?" Eve presses with a fierce glare. "Oksana."
Villanelle recoils with shock, an unsettled expression on her face until she regains control of herself, tensing and tightening with anger.
"Eve." She scowls, her voice smooth and even with anger. "I told you never to use that name."
Eve matches Villanelle's glare, unwilling to back down. But eventually, she submits seeing the wounded look on Villanelle's face.
"Fuck," she curses at the ground, running her hands through her curls as Villanelle starts to walk away. "Wait!" Eve catches her by the wrist. "Please, this is not how I wanted this to go this morning."
"How did you want it to go, Eve?" Villanelle snaps.
Now Eve looks as though she might cry, distressed and teary-eyed.
"I just wanted to bring you coffee and muffins," she says, "see you and talk to you for more than five minutes. Just have things go back to the way they used to be before all this."
"All this what?"
"This!" Eve says, pointing back and forth between herself and Villanelle. "Fighting and never seeing each other. I don't like emthis.em" She glowers with a sad huff. "I don't."
Villanelle sniffs. Then swallows.
"And the car?"
"Jesus Christ. Yes, I needed the fucking car fixed. And my girlfriend is the best mechanic in all of London so I took it to her garage. What was I supposed to do?"
Villanelle growls and yells something in Russian, shaking her head and walking a few steps away, putting one hand on her hip and running the other through her hair, then returning to Eve looking very unhappy.
"I can come by later," Eve offers, "or over to yours tonight. We can talk, have dinner, figure this all out."
"I work late."
"Okay. Tomorrow then," Eve says. "I'll bring-"
"The car will be done by Monday," Villanelle says, turning abruptly and heading for the garage.
"What? Wait, I-"
"Windshield, windows, taillights, bulbs," Villanelle says over her shoulder. "It will be finished by Monday."
"Okay. Just-"
Villanelle's shoulders rise and fall as she lets out a heavy sigh.
"Vill-"
"I will have your mechanic call your office when it's ready."
xxxxx
"All I heard was broken," Elena says, walking into Bill's office. "What is it this time? You and Villanelle or Bill's car?" she asks, pulling up a seat beside Eve.
"Why would you put Villanelle and I first?" Eve retorts.
"Well things have been a bit off between the two of you lately," Elena replies. "Then again they always kind of are."
Kenny appears in the doorway. "Is this a work meeting or an Eve meeting?"
"Eve," Elena and Bill say at the same time.
Eve scowls at Bill.
"Um, should I stay or…?"
"Yes, stay," Eve says, "it'll be good to have at least one friend on my side."
"Okay," Kenny mutters then disappears out the door.
"We're all on your side," Bill says. "You know that."
"Yeah well, sometimes it doesn't feel that way."
Kenny returns, rolling Elena's desk chair inside and sitting on the other side of Eve. She smiles and nods at him, crossing her legs and pointedly avoiding Elena's stare.
"Alright, let's hear it then," Bill says. "I've got real work to do later."
Eve closes her eyes and presses her middle finger to her forehead.
"Uh, Eve?" Kenny asks.
"I'm trying to decide where to start."
"How much to omit," Bill comments.
Eve's eyes fly open. She shoots him an irritated look.
"Fine." She sits up straight. "I lied about the dinner and took your car to Vasiliev's Garage to spy on Villanelle-"
"Oh for Christ's sake, Eve. I told you specifically not to go alone."
"I saw her involved in a sketchy meeting," Eve continues, raising her voice. "She got into a fight with Dasha-"
"Who's Dasha?" Kenny asks.
"Not Villanelle's aunt," Eve replies, "just like Konstantin is not her uncle."
"I thought you told me that he was," Elena interposes. "That he lived at her house, or she lived at his or something."
"She told me he wasn't," Bill says on the side to Elena.
"He's not," Eve cuts in. "And I don't know who owns that house."
"Okay. Fine," Bill says. "Irrelevant detail. Continue." He nods. "Villanelle got into a fight and then…?"
"And then I followed her and—well she saw your car on the curb—then I followed her-"
"You parked that close?" Kenny interrupts. "Eve, why?"
Eve goes to speak then her brow furrows. She turns to Elena.
"I parked in the same spot as before."
"That was for surveillance, not reconnaissance," Elena says as if Eve should know the difference.
"What do you know about surveillance and reconnaissance?" Eve retorts.
"Enough to know not to park outside the building!"
"We parked there together!"
"For surveillance!"
"You shouldn't have taken Bill's car at all," Kenny comments. "Villanelle already knows what it looks like. Model. Make. Color. She's a mechanic, Eve. Her job is to know cars."
Eve blinks, not taking this into account before.
"He has a point." Bill gestures at Kenny. "Terrible spycraft."
"Oh, spycraft?" Eve retorts, making a face to show she thinks that's absurd.
"It's a new hobby," Bill says with a shrug, "I didn't tell you?"
"No." Eve looks to Elena.
Elena shrugs. "Bill got me into it. Then I got Kenny into."
"What?" Eve turns to Kenny.
"It's interesting stuff."
"Oh my God," Eve says, slumping in her seat and holding a hand to her forehead.
Bill leans forward on his elbows. "So you followed her and then…?"
Eve sighs.
"I followed her through Kennington, she disappeared, I went back, it was raining and cold, by the time I got to your car the windows and taillights were all smashed and my phone was gone. I had to drive home with no windows and a cracked windshield which was terrible and now your car is at V's Garage."
"Well." Bill leans back in his chair. "That took a turn."
"Who broke into the car?" Elena asks.
"I don't know," Eve replies. "But honestly I get the feeling that something weird is going on at that garage and I think someone followed me."
"Hm."
"So you're saying that someone followed you while you followed Villanelle and they broke into my car."
"I don't know what I'm saying, Bill," Eve snaps. "But your car has missing windows, broken taillights, Villanelle won't talk to me, and now we're fighting again."
"Like any other Friday."
"Oh, piss off."
"Bill," Elena scolds. "Don't antagonize her when she's like this."
"Like what? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"When you get all het up and agitated."
"Seriously?" Eve raises her brows at Bill.
He shrugs his shoulders. "Don't look at me. Elena said it."
"Well clearly you're in on it."
"But why would someone want to follow you?" Kenny asks, interrupting their fight, wanting to get to the bottom of this.
"I don't know." Eve sighs. "I don't know what they really do over there. But it's not like Villanelle's garage at all."
"What was this fight you saw?" Bill asks, curiosity growing, leaning across his desk.
"I couldn't really see all of it but it looked like they were arguing and then—oh and then they grabbed each other like this." Eve grabs her own throat, mimicking the gesture.
"Weird," Kenny mutters.
"Very." Bill nods. He narrows his eyes at Eve. "I think you'd better stay away from that garage for a while."
Eve gives him a defiant look.
"Eve."
"Something's going on over there, I can't just-"
"Something you don't want to be mixed up in, I guarantee you that. You've already seen something you weren't supposed to see and somebody obviously knows you've been out there sniffing around and sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."
Eve leans forward with a smug smile. "So you do think something's going on?"
"I'm just looking at the evidence," Bill replies, holding his hands up. "You and Elena take my car, spy on Villanelle all week, now they know what car to look for. You go back alone, leave the car, come back half an hour later and it's been smashed to pieces."
"Lucky you have good insurance," Elena comments.
Bill points at her then continues. "Someone really doesn't want you over there, Eve. I would heed the warning and stay away," he cautions. "They have your phone and whatever is stored on it and they know your car which is actually my car so now we're associated, thank you very much for dragging me into this."
Eve scoffs, falling back in her chair and crossing her arms.
"I don't know what it is yet but something's definitely going on," she says. "And Villanelle has been working nights which she's never done since we started seeing each other. Maybe she's in on it."
"In on what?" Bill asks.
"I don't know! I can't just ask her."
"Why not?" Kenny asks.
"What if something weird is going on?"
"Then you know."
"What if it's not. Then I just look like a dick for asking."
"You already kind of look like a dick," Elena says.
"Following her and all," Kenny adds.
Eve groans and lets her head fall back, staring up at the ceiling as Bill drums his fingers on his desk, exchanging a glance with Elena.
"So when'll my car be ready?" he asks. "Unlike you, I actually use it for transportation."
"I don't know. Villanelle has to get parts from the other garage."
"The other garage that's not a garage?" Kenny asks.
"No, it is a garage." Eve sits up and looks at him. "Just not one like Villanelle's."
"What does-"
"It's hard to explain," Eve says. "It was more like a…uh…a warehouse or something."
"Maybe it is." Bill shrugs. "What's wrong with that?"
"Nothing it's just…" Eve draws in a breath, shaking her head with a look like she wants to say something but she's holding it in.
"Spit it out," Bill says.
"Elena." Eve turns. "That car we saw. The blue one. When I went back last night it had been painted white." She says it as if this is some critical piece of information that explains everything.
"So?"
"So…" Eve stares at Elena. Then she falls back in her seat, realizing she has no follow-up.
"So it's a warehouse and a body shop," Bill says. "That could exist."
"Or it's a chop shop," Kenny mutters.
Everyone turns to him.
"What?"
xxxxx
Back in V's Garage, Villanelle works on removing the front windows from Bill's car, pulling off the interior siding of the doors first. She cranks the ratchet in an even tempo, heaving bolts in a tray, still upset from her argument with Eve. She fumes, thinking that Dasha is somehow tied to the damage, growling when she pictures her outside Eve's house, or whoever she sent, bashing the car with a crowbar.
What if they broke into Eve's house? Destroyed her things? Went upstairs and attacked her?
Villanelle ratchets faster.
Why was Eve following her? How long was she out there? What did she see? What did she hear? How much does she know?
Was she lying about where the car was parked? Did it really happen outside of Vasiliev's Garage? Does it matter either way?
Villanelle grumbles, ripping the siding off the door and unplugging the wires and cables for the control panel.
Why couldn't Eve just stay out of it? Why did she have to go to Vasiliev's Garage? Talk to Konstantin and Dasha?
"Watch out for that glass," Bear comments, ambling up beside Villanelle. "Just finished the RAV4," Bear says. "Need a hand on the glass removal?"
"No."
"You sure?" he asks. "Can be tricky. All those little bits and pieces."
"I can do it by myself," Villanelle snaps.
Bear shrugs and leans against the workbench, counting the bolts in her tray, watching her lower the window with the button in the control panel dangling from the now open and exposed door.
"What happened between you and Eve earlier?" he ventures.
"Nothing."
"Really?"
"Yes," Villanelle growls.
"That's not what it sounded like."
Villanelle huffs in response, struggling with the plastic clips that hold the pane of glass in place.
"Trouble in paradise?" Hugo asks, sauntering up.
"Leave her alone," Jamie advises from the next lane over.
Villanelle yelps, cutting her finger on a jagged piece of glass. Blood oozes from the slice, a shard of glass lodged in her skin. She yells in frustration and shakes out her hand, flinging blood on the ground.
"Now you really do need a hand," Hugo says with a smirk.
"Fuck off," Villanelle snaps, shoving past him hard enough to make him stumble backward. She storms off towards the door, holding her hand and trying not to cry, not from the pain but from an entire week of stress. That's what she tells herself at least. "Bear, finish the windows," she yells over her shoulder before the door shuts behind her.
She wipes her eyes as she walks up to the Parts Desk, cradling her hand to catch the blood, hoping to hide it from Jess.
"What happened to you?" Jess asks, noticing right away.
"Nothing."
"You're bleeding," Jess exclaims "Look at your hand. It's all-"
"It's nothing," Villanelle says. "I need side glass, windshield, tail lights and bulbs for a 2008 Prius."
"I'll get to that in a minute." Jess dismisses. "Let me see your hand."
"No." Villanelle scowls. "It's fine, I just need a bandage. Where do we keep those?"
"Villanelle."
"It's fine. It's just a little cut."
"Let me see it."
"No." Villanelle refuses childishly.
Blood drips on the checkered tile.
"Villanelle."
Villanelle scrunches her brow in a defiant scowl at which Jess crosses her arms and gives her a look indicating she will not stand for the theatrics.
Villanelle huffs.
"Fine."
She grudgingly shows Jess the cut in her left index finger, blood running down her palm and the back of her hand.
"Jesus Christ, there's half a pane of glass in there!"
"Don't touch it!" Villanelle pulls her hand away.
"I'm not touching it! I'm just looking at it," Jess says. "Let me see it again. Put your hand on the desk." She pats the surface and lays down a few tissues.
Villanelle scowls at her, brow scrunched together, petulant and a tad dramatic.
"I won't touch it," Jess assures her.
Villanelle flares her nostrils.
"I promise."
Reluctantly and with a groan, Villanelle rests her arm on the desk so Jess can examine it.
"God, you're worse than my kid," Jess comments, shaking her head. She squints as she assesses the damage.
The cut is two inches long, splitting the skin all the way down Villanelle's finger with at least one shard of glass stuck in there.
"Do we have the glass and tail light covers?" Villanelle asks, watching Jess like a hawk to make sure she doesn't probe around. The more she stares at the slice, the more it starts to hurt, turning into a sharp sting that throbs with her heartbeat.
"I can ask Geraldine but you might have to get them," Jess answers absently, tilting her head to the side to look from another angle.
"Fine."
"No, you might have to get them."
"Okay. Fine."
Jess gives Villanelle a sharp look then stands up and puts her hands on her hips, delivering her diagnosis.
"I think you'll need stitches."
"What? No, I won't."
"Well you'll need someone to pull out that glass and I think you'd rather have a medical professional do it than try it yourself."
Villanelle frowns and lets out a moan in misery.
"I don't like hospitals."
"You can probably go to an urgent care for that."
Villanelle pouts, her nose all bunched up. "I don't want to," she whines. "It will be fine. I just need a little bandage."
Jess crosses her arms. "Can you even move your finger?"
"Yes," Villanelle replies stubbornly.
Jess raises her brows.
Villanelle stares at her finger as if willing it to move with her mind instead of using her muscles. She bends it a fraction then winces.
"Alright." Jess cleans up the mess on the desk, balling up the tissues and tossing them into the bin. "Get your stuff, I'll take you to the nearest place."
Villanelle groans and bounces up and down, throwing a fit.
"I don't want to," she whines.
"I don't care. Let's go."
Villanelle sticks out her lower lip in an over-the-top frown, sulking as she gathers up her stuff from the office behind the Parts Desk. Jess comes in, purse over her shoulder.
"Put this on it for now," she says, handing Villanelle a clean rag.
Villanelle shoots her a betrayed look then carefully wraps the towel around her finger just as Hugo sticks his head through the door.
"I'm getting drinks with Elena later. Should I wear my-"
"Get out!" Jess waves him away, shoving him out the door.
"I hope she stands you up!" Villanelle yells.
xxxxx
Not stood up, Hugo sips on his second beer, Elena well into hers. An awkward silence hangs between them, out of things to talk about after the usual first date chat: where they grew up, family, siblings, university, work, travel, favorite this and that. Hugo props himself up on his elbow, resting his head against his hand.
"So…"
"So…" Elena echoes, raising her brows.
Hugo slugs back beer, burping after but keeping it in.
"Tell me about Eve."
"Eve?"
"Yeah, what's she really like."
"Why do you want to know?"
Hugo shrugs. "Just curious, I guess. She's hard to get a real feel of, you know?"
"Huh," Elena mutters, skeptical of his interest in Eve. "Well, she's easily the most stubborn person I know, won't take no for an answer on anything. She's a control freak, is too smart for her current job, has more money than you'd think based on her clothes, and doesn't like brown sauce with her chips."
"Hm."
"That the answer you were looking for?"
Hugo shrugs. "I think you can give me more." He grins impishly. "She ever tell you what she and Villanelle get up to?"
Elena rolls her eyes and shakes her head, waiting all night for the lewd comment Eve promised, and alas, here it is.
"She does, doesn't she?" Hugo smirks salaciously, then leans across the table on both elbows, smirking wider. "Tell me, have you ever fancied women?"
Elena lets out a laugh. "No."
"Not even when you-"
"No."
"You didn't even let me finish."
"I don't need to," Elena replies. "I've never been interested in women like that."
Hugo grumbles and falls back in his seat, fantasies ruined.
"You ever fancied Villanelle?" Elena asks.
"Course."
"Really?" Elena retorts, leaning forward with an amused smile.
"Well, I mean, it's not like"—Hugo stumbles over words—"she's you know, so there's never any, um, I don't really-"
"Have a chance."
"Yeah." He lets out a breath and takes a long drink.
"Hm." Elena grins, sipping on her ale, suddenly very entertained, intending to relay this conversation to Eve. "You ever tried to make a pass at her?"
"Oh, all the time when I first started at the garage," he replies. "Why wouldn't I? She's-"
"A successful business owner in a male-dominated field," Elena interjects.
Hugo laughs. "Sure. But she always ignored me or told me to get back to work, but never really said no. It wasn't until I walked in on her nailing her girlfriend-"
"Eve?"
"No, the one before."
"Gemma?"
"Was that her name?" Hugo says. "Big-"
"Tits."
"Yeah."
"Massive." Elena emphasizes the word, flashing her eyes.
Hugo laughs. "You're sure you don't-"
"Yes," Elena replies before he can finish the question. "Absolutely sure." She smiles in a way that suggests perhaps this statement may not be true after all.
Hugo narrows his eyes at her with an intrigued grin.
"Anyway," he continues, "Villanelle was nailing her on the Parts Desk, so after that and a few other incidents." He leans closer talking in a whisper. "Tell you the truth, I think she actually likes being walked in on."
"Kinky."
"It is." Hugo nods, smirking and eying Elena lasciviously.
Elena tilts her head to the side, the energy at their table starting to shift in a more tempting direction.
"After…?"
"Oh yeah. After all that I knew she was only into women."
"Must've been a tragedy for you," Elena jokes, flashing a playful smile.
Hugo smugly shrugs a shoulder. "I still do alright."
"Only alright?"
"Well," Hugo corrects. "Well above average. Great. Excellent. Exceeding."
"Uh-huh." Elena smiles, flirty now.
Drinks getting lower, night getting later, the time is now for Hugo to make a move.
"What do you say to going somewhere else?" he asks.
"Depends on where."
"I was thinking mine."
"Hm." Elena deliberates for a moment, two beers, curiosity, and perhaps a faint pull of attraction sway her decision. "Alright. But I'm not staying if your flat is a mess."
SATURDAY
The sun tries to peek through the grey clouds above the back patio of the Russian restaurant where Dasha sits, smoking a cigarette and watching the door. She waits for Villanelle to walk through which eventually she does, late and wearing a crisp black suit.
The metal chair grates on the stone when Villanelle pulls it out, taking a seat across from Dasha.
"Think you can-"
Villanelle scoots forward in her chair purposely so the loud grating noise cuts Dasha off. She smiles in a very self-satisfied way.
Dasha raises her brows. "Done?"
Villanelle scoots more, an inch forward then back, forward, back, left, right, forward, back one more time, then forward. She sniffs, grinning complacently.
"You are late."
"Five minutes." Villanelle shrugs.
"Eight."
"What do you want?"
"You are getting sloppy," Dasha says. "Stitches in your hand." She clicks her tongue and shakes her head. "You know we don't like you using public services." She puffs on her cigarette.
"I needed a doctor."
"You come to me," Dasha says, acting hurt Villanelle didn't. "I will help you."
"I am not letting you near me with scissors and a needle again."
Dasha lets out a rough laugh, blowing smoke to the side, stubbing out cigarette after.
"She was at the garage."
Villanelle's upper lip twitches.
Dasha laughs with a wicked grin. "Sloppy, sloppy," she says, reaching into her jacket pocket and setting Eve's phone in the middle of the table. "She has husband?"
Villanelle sets her jaw.
"You are sure she is really interested in you?" Dasha asks, provoking Villanelle.
"They're not together. They are getting a divorce."
"Hm." Dasha leans back in her chair in an arrogant manner, pulling another cigarette from her pack of Marlboro Reds, lighting it and taking a long drag. The embers on the end crackle. "She is different than the other one? The one with J name."
"Stay out of my life and stay the fuck away from Eve," Villanelle growls. "If you try to go near her again I swear I will-"
Their waitress, Amber, comes out the door, arriving at their table and exchanging a glance with Villanelle as she sets a bottle of vodka and two glasses full of ice on the table.
"The usual?" she asks Dasha.
"Ask my guest what she wants," Dasha replies, gesturing at Villanelle with a self-approving smile.
Amber nods. "Villanelle?"
"I will not be eating today."
"She will have the pirozhki," Dasha answers for Villanelle. "If my borscht is cold I will send it back."
Amber nods and hurries inside.
Villanelle leans across the table with a sneer. "If you come close to Eve again, I will chain you to cement blocks and throw you into the river." She snatches Eve's phone off the table while she has the chance.
Dasha lets out a derisive cackle, pouring the vodka and drinking it in gulps with the cigarette between her fingers.
"You think you can threaten me?" she asks, her tone taking on an oddly higher pitch. She barks a laugh. "This Polastri-"
"Eve," Villanelle corrects.
"They like Polastri."
Villanelle's face pales.
"You think they don't watch you? Don't know when you make mistake? Refuse to do your job?"
"What did you tell them?" Villanelle demands.
"I did not tell them anything. You bring her home when Konstantin is there. Home we pay for. What do you expect to happen?" Dasha shrugs. "Then she comes to the garage, looking around, asking questions." She shakes her head, taking a long drag on the Marlboro "Sloppy."
Villanelle stands abruptly, turning for the door.
"Sit," Dasha orders, stopping Villanelle where she's at. "You will eat lunch with me."
Villanelle slowly lowers herself back in her chair.
"Where is Konstantin?" she asks through gritted teeth.
"Russia." Dasha swirls her glass so the ice clinks. "Making deals, negotiating contracts. Convincing them not to terminate yours."
Villanelle's jaw tightens. Her nostrils flare.
"You get rid of Polastri, I make this all go away," Dasha offers, casually ashing her cigarette.
"Never."
xxxxx
"Oh, tell me, tell me, I want to hear all about it," Eve says excitedly, bringing a cup of tea to Elena on the couch. "I can't believe I forgot."
"He's not terrible, really."
"Did he pay for drinks?" Eve asks.
"First round. I got the second."
"Hm," Eve mutters, sitting next to Elena and grabbing her mug from the coffee table.
"We talked about all the boring stuff—he's from Tooting, has two brothers—then we talked about you-"
"What? What about me?"
"Then Villanelle—who he's in love with by the way."
"Elena, what'd you say about"—Eve registers Elena's last sentence—"wait, really? How do you know?"
"He told me he tried to get with her when he first started working at her garage, she ignored him, then he found her with Gemma and that was that."
Eve scoffs.
"He thinks Villanelle has an exhibitionism kink."
"Oh." Eve's cheeks flush.
"Mhm. I thought you'd like that."
"Hm." Eve sips her tea, pondering this new bit of information. Her eyes light up a little. "So…a free drink then home?"
"Oh, no I still slept with him."
"What? Elena!"
"What? Why not?" Elena shrugs her shoulder. "It's not like I'm unattracted to him."
Eve laughs at that, shaking her head and laughing more.
"What?" Elena asks.
"Nothing it's just"—Eve chuckles—"Bill owes me ten quid."
"Oh, you bet on it?" Elena hides her eyes with her hand, a little embarrassed but laughing all the same.
"I was counting on you to be a little promiscuous," Eve says with a playful grin.
Elena rolls her eyes, at herself and Eve.
"You know, he's not good in bed," she says. "Well, he wasn't bad, he just finished fast."
Eve bursts with laughter. "Oh, Villanelle will love that!" she exclaims, animated with excitement. Then her face falls slowly, sadness taking over.
"You still haven't talked to her?"
"How can I? I don't have a phone, or a car to drive to her place," Eve says. "She probably doesn't even want to see me anyway." She sighs and looks off to the side. "I think I'm just going to wait until Monday to deal with it."
"Eve."
"Well what am I supposed to do?"
"You have to come clean eventually."
Eve groans and falls back against the couch.
"Ask her about it if you can't handle not knowing."
Eve scowls and glances out the window, catching a movement on the sidewalk outside. A series of knocks on the front door follows.
"I'll get it," Elena offers, getting up.
"Thank you."
Eve sips her tea as Elena disappears around the corner, opening the front door to Niko, papers tucked under his arm, a frown already on his face. Or maybe that's just the mustache, Elena thinks.
"Elena," he greets her curtly.
"Nikodem."
Niko grunts at her hostile formality.
"This will only take a minute."
"Oh, I'm here to make sure of that," Elena says, stepping out of the way.
He takes off his shoes, Elena behind him already on high alert, then walks down the hall and sits at the kitchen table where Eve has moved, taking the seat opposite to her. Elena gives Eve a supportive nod before sitting on her right.
"Did you get my text?" Niko asks Eve, tossing the papers on the table.
"No."
Niko clears his throat and tries again.
"Did you get my text but not read it?"
"My phone was stolen." Eve reminds him, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Right." Niko nods. "Bill's car. You called from your office number. Well"—he clasps his hands on the table—"there's a bit of an issue with the application."
"What? Why?"
"We have to meet one of the grounds for divorce," Niko explains, "adultery, unreason-"
"I know what they are," Eve interjects, "I read all the stuff. We're applying because of adultery. That's the easiest."
"Or unreasonable behavior," Elena comments under her breath.
Niko gives her a sideways glance then looks back at Eve.
"We can't use adultery as a reason."
"Why not?" Eve retorts. "We both cheated. That should definitely qualify."
"Hm." Niko grunts and shuffles the papers, flipping through them until he finds the right page. He points to the line as he reads: "It only qualifies as adultery if your husband or wife has had intercourse with someone of the opposite sex."
"Oh," Eve mutters, slumping in her seat a little, missing that key detail.
"Really?" Elena chimes in. "That's bullshit."
Niko turns to her with an impatient look.
Elena shrugs. "It is."
"Okay fine," Eve says, making a new plan. "I'll apply as the petitioner and put you down as the respondent."
Niko shakes his head. "Won't go through."
"Why not?" Eve rejoins, getting testy now.
"Because it has to be someone of the opposite sex, Eve."
"It is!" Eve replies, her voice louder than his. She scoffs. "Unless you're telling me-"
Niko's red-faced look stops her mid-sentence. She tilts her head to the side, mouth slightly agape.
"Niko."
"Niko," Elena echoes, shock in her voice.
"Did you-"
"Do you need me to spell it out for you, Eve?" Niko snaps.
Eve lets out a laugh in disbelief. "Wow, I-"
"You don't get to judge me," Niko spits, "you did the same thing."
"I wasn't going to judge you," Eve replies firmly. "I'm just"—she leans back and throws up her hands—"a little surprised."
"It was equally surprising to find you in bed with another woman," Niko replies dryly.
"Oh, I bet it was." Eve crosses her arms again and exchanges a combative look with him. "God, can't you just sleep with a woman?"
"Can't you with another man?"
Eve scoffs. "I'm in a serious relationship."
"So am I!"
Elena tenses, feeling a sense of responsibility to keep the peace between them.
"Alright," she interjects before either can start on a vitriolic attack. "Clearly you're both not changing your minds about sleeping with someone of the opposite sex anytime soon so you'll have to use another ground. Unreasonable behavior."
"Your drinking," Niko comments.
"Your abuse," Eve fires back.
"Oh, really?" Niko rejoins. "You're-"
"Alright," Elena cuts in louder, stopping things before they can escalate. She stands and addresses Niko. "I think you're going to need to re-evaluate all this. Maybe get real legal advice," she mutters over her shoulder to Eve. "But I don't think you're going to solve anything today so, Niko, thank you for coming, my client asks that you leave now."
"Elena." Eve rolls her eyes.
Thoroughly irritated, Niko gets up in a huff, gathering his papers together.
"This is still my house," he says, pointing at Eve.
"Oh." Eve scoffs.
"Before all this, you were willing to give it to Eve so"—Elena sucks in a breath—"I'm not so sure."
"Well?" Niko asks Eve, his mustache all bunched up in frustration.
Eve rises to her feet, completely calm and in control.
"I'm petitioning for unreasonable behavior," she says, clasping her hands together. "We can talk again to discuss money and the house but I'm done with this for today. Please, go."
Niko fumes. "I thought we could work this out amicably."
"We still can. So sleep on it before you decide to do anything irrational."
Shaking his head vehemently, Niko makes an exit, Elena at his heels. He slams the front door on his way out after which Elena locks every lock and returns to the kitchen where Eve is slumped in a chair, hanging her head in her hands.
"Oh, Eve." Elena gives her a warm hug. "It'll be alright. We'll figure it out. I promise."
xxxxx
At home, Villanelle sits at her dining table trying to eat dinner even though she's not hungry. She fidgets with Eve's phone, sliding it around on the table, waking the screen, pausing when it illuminates, typing in 1-2-3-4 then pausing again on the home screen. She opens Eve's messaging app, then closes it. Opens her photo gallery, closes it, doing this over and over again and tormenting herself until finally she powers off the phone and gets up, throwing out her dumplings on the way to her room.
She tosses Eve's phone on her bed and flops down beside it on her stomach, lying there for a moment, groaning and flipping over onto her back, staring at the ceiling, then huffing and jumping up. From her closet, she picks out an all-black outfit, ties her hair in a bun, grabs Eve's phone, and tucks it in her pocket as she heads out the door.
xxxxx
On the couch, Eve stares at the flashing images on the television screen, her attention not on the show but on her conversation with Niko, ruminating over the fact that he's in a relationship with a man, wondering how the divorce will all turn out, and more importantly, when. She sighs and finishes the last bit of red wine in her glass then turns off the TV and treads upstairs, hitting all the light switches as she goes.
Lost in her thoughts, she carries on with her nightly routine: brushing her teeth, washing her face, applying over-expensive face cream, changing into a comfy T-shirt, sitting on the edge of her bed, and looking out the window with a forlorn expression. Then she shuts off the lamp on the side table and climbs into bed.
Meanwhile, in the backyard, Villanelle jumps down from the fence, landing on the ground without a sound. A light rain wets her clothes and hair. She lifts the plant pot for the spare key but it's not there.
Blinking at the ceiling, feeling exhausted but unable to sleep, Eve sighs and stirs around with frustration. She rolls over, kicks off the sheets, covers only one leg, uncovers both, pulls up the comforter, and rolls over again.
Downstairs, Villanelle opens the backdoor, cringing when it creaks. She walks inside silently, squinting in the dark, barely able to see the outlines and shapes of furniture, relying on muscle memory to guide her from the mudroom to the kitchen.
Upstairs, Eve lets out an exasperated huff and switches on the lamp, climbing out of bed and heading downstairs for something stronger than a glass of wine. She yawns, keeping her hand against the wall so she doesn't trip over the pairs of shoes by the front door.
Villanelle freezes completely still for an instant before she reacts. Then she runs out the backdoor with no time to close it just as Eve comes into the kitchen. She stops her in her tracks, intuition alerting her that something is off. Immediately, she looks over at the front door then hits the closest light switch.
The light above the dining table turns on.
Her phone sits perfectly in the center.
Eve's heart drops. A wave of adrenaline pumps through her. She snaps her head to the backdoor discovering it to be ajar. Just outside, Villanelle tries to jump up over the fence but her boots slip from the rain. She falls to the ground with a thud. Eve nearly jumps out of her skin, hurrying over without a second thought and throwing the backdoor shut, locking it as fast as she can. Her body starts to shake. Her heart races with primal fear.
Taking cover beneath the patio table, Villanelle frantically puts together another escape plan. Her phone vibrates in her pocket. She jumps and hits her head, rushing to silence it.
Eve paces around her kitchen feeling more and more anxious with every ring, fear making her think up the worst possible situations ever. She groans when she doesn't get an answer, leaving a voicemail as soon as the tone beeps.
"Villanelle, oh my God, I think someone just broke into my house. My back door was open and my phone was on the kitchen table and"—she draws in a shaky breath—"I don't know what's going on, I don't how they got inside, Villanelle. Please." She whimpers with fear. "Please, can you just come over? I don't know what to do. What if they come back? What if they want something more? What if they bring a gun or a knife?" She frets, getting herself worked up. "I don't want to be here alone. Please, Villanelle, if you get this, please just come over. Please. Please."
Able to hear Eve's distressed voice from outside the window, Villanelle launches herself over the fence and runs down the street to return the call, trying not to pant into the receiver. Eve answers before the first ring even starts.
"Villanelle, oh my God. I need you to come over right now, please, I can't-"
"Eve, what happened?"
"Someone broke into my house. I'm all alone. Oh Jesus."
"Eve, it will be okay. I will be there soon," Villanelle replies calmly, berating herself for her mistake. "Lock the doors and go upstairs then turn off all the lights, okay?"
"Villanelle." Eve cries. "I don't know how to fight someone. I don't—oh my God!" she exclaims suddenly. "What if they're inside?!"
"Eve."
"Oh my God, oh Jesus." Eve pants into the receiver. "Villanelle-"
"Eve, calm down. Go in your room and lock the door."
"Villanelle," Eve whines. Then there's the thudding of heavy footsteps running up the stairs and the sound of a door shutting hard.
Villanelle listens in anguish, cursing at herself heatedly in Russian.
Eve's voice returns, ragged and rough. "Villanelle, please-"
"I'm on my way, okay? Hold on."
"Wait, will you-"
Villanelle hangs up, knowing what Eve is about to ask but not knowing how to negotiate pretending to drive over.
After an unbearable fourteen minutes of waiting only a block away, Villanelle knocks on Eve's front door. She pulls at the left sleeve of her jacket to try to hide her finger, not wanting to have to explain that tonight on top of everything else. She hears the unlocking of the deadbolt and chain lock then Eve opens the door a crack looking frazzled and teary, a surprising amount.
"Eve."
Eve sniffles and lets Villanelle inside, throwing her arms around her neck after, relieved to not be alone in the house anymore. Glowering at what she's caused, Villanelle wraps her arms around Eve's waist, feeling her body quiver.
"You're shaking."
Eve sniffs, clutching Villanelle tighter, closing her eyes and hoping the night is all just some horrible nightmare that she'll wake up from.
"Let me make sure we're safe," Villanelle says quietly after a moment. She kicks off her boots, arms still around Eve.
Reluctantly, Eve loosens her hold, following a few steps behind Villanelle as she goes through the downstairs part of the house, turning on every light and looking around, swatting at hanging jackets, looking under furniture, opening closets and inspecting them carefully.
"Will you check the yard?" Eve asks from the kitchen, her voice gruff.
Villanelle nods and opens the backdoor, walking out into the yard and peering around.
"Nothing," she reports, coming back into the mudroom and locking the door again. She hides her left hand in her sleeve. "Upstairs."
She goes through Eve's office the same way, looking behind the door, in the closet, beneath the desk, then finishes with her room and bathroom, meeting Eve at the end of the bed when she's finished.
"We looked everywhere and no one's here."
Eve nods, still looking glum.
"I can sleep on the couch," Villanelle offers. "If anyone comes in, I will get to them first."
"Oh," Eve mutters. "Okay." She nods and wipes her eyes which suddenly feel heavier, the adrenaline starting to wear off, but she doesn't move.
Everything in Villanelle impels her to hold Eve, to comfort her, hug her, but she takes a pillow from her bed instead, hesitating when she feels Eve watching her. Unable to fight the feeling, she wraps her arms around Eve in a warm embrace, pulling away before Eve can really hold her, and kissing her on the cheek.
"It's late," she murmurs. "Go sleep."
Eve nods and lets Villanelle go.
"Wait," she interjects, stopping Villanelle in the doorway. But she changes her mind. "Thank you." She sniffs. "For coming over."
Villanelle nods with a small smile.
SUNDAY
By the time Eve comes downstairs in the morning, Villanelle has the blankets all folded on the couch with the pillow on top, watching cartoons on TV. She laughs quietly to herself at parts that aren't intended to be funny.
"Have you been up long?" Eve asks.
Villanelle jumps and fumbles with the remote.
"No," she replies, turning off the show and getting to her feet. "Mm, a little."
Eve smiles then yawns, letting out a big sigh after.
"I made tea," Villanelle offers.
"Oh. Thanks."
Villanelle follows a slow-moving Eve into the kitchen, more of a morning person than she, hovering restlessly as she watches her struggle to decide on grabbing a second mug or not.
"I have to go," she says, making the decision for her. "I still have to get tail light bulbs and covers for Bill's car."
"Oh." Eve's shoulders noticeably droop, her mind made up on taking down another mug. She turns to Villanelle, looking soft and sleepy, curls somehow silky which they normally are not in the mornings. "Can you come back tonight?"
"Sure." Villanelle nods, jamming her hands in her pockets, thinking that Eve must have done her hair before coming down, it looks too good.
"Around seven?" Eve asks.
"I'll be here at seven," Villanelle replies.
"Okay." Eve smiles.
"Okay." Villanelle gives a small grin back, suddenly not wanting to leave, wanting to do anything but that, but heading for the front door nonetheless.
Eve follows her down that hall, wanting to ask her to stay for a cup of tea, convince her to stay for breakfast, maybe all day, telling her not to worry about Bill's car so they could watch movies on the couch, order takeaway for dinner.
"Wait, hold on."
Villanelle turns. They stare at each other in silence for a few long seconds as Eve deliberates in her head.
"Thank you for coming last night," she says at last, going with the formal response, assuring herself she'll be able to convince Villanelle to stay later. "Really, I don't know what I would have done without you."
"Eve, of course." Villanelle smiles, expecting Eve to ask her to stay, wishing she would have, willing to for at least the afternoon. "It's the least I could do."
Eve gives Villanelle a quizzical look.
"You know, because of your phone and Bill's car," Villanelle quickly replies. "It's been a shitty few days."
"Oh." Eve laughs lightly. "Yeah."
A longer silence lingers.
"Well, I'll see you tonight."
"See you tonight."
xxxxx
Eve anxiously paces around her living room, glancing at the clock in the kitchen again and again, biting her nails as she rehearses what she'll say, nodding when she gets the words right. She sighs and runs up to her bedroom, checking her face in the mirror, shaking out her curls, spritzing on more perfume. She spins around and checks her outfit from behind, double-thinking the blouse. She takes it off and throws it on her bed but a soft knock on the front door interrupts her before she can decide on an alternate.
Eve runs down the stairs in only a tank, heart beating harder in anticipation. She opens the front door to Villanelle, standing there in a deep green velvet suit with her hands in her pockets, raining cascading down the awning.
"Hi."
"Hi." Eve grins, slightly taken aback by Villanelle's chic outfit. "You look"—she laughs nervously, heart starting to race faster—"really nice."
She curses at herself for taking off the blouse.
"Thanks," Villanelle mutters almost shyly. "Can I come in?"
Eve steps out of the way, letting Villanelle inside and shutting the door softly behind her.
"I left the tie at home," Villanelle says, kicking off one of her boots. "Hope you don't mind."
"No." Eve laughs, relieving some of her nerves. "I didn't even know they made velvet ties."
Villanelle nods, trying to get her other boot off with her heel. "But they don't look good."
"Huh."
Eve chuckles at the thought of Villanelle picking out ties at a store somewhere, trying them on, owning enough to know that velvet does, in fact, not look good.
After a moment of struggling with Eve watching her, Villanelle gets her other boot off, nudging them both neatly against the wall with her foot. Losing an inch in height, she digs her hands deeper in her pockets suddenly feeling more nervous in Eve's hallway than she did outside. Her shoulders hunch up. She grips the soft fabric that lines her pockets, appearing very anxious to Eve which makes her feel better.
"Thank you for coming over last night."
Villanelle nods.
"Honestly, I didn't know who else to call," Eve says. "You were the first person I thought of."
Villanelle can feel her cheeks flush.
"I'm glad you called me." She grins, feeling her face get warmer when Eve smiles at her.
"Um, I got you something," Eve says suddenly as if she just remembered, heading to the kitchen after.
"Oh."
Villanelle follows behind, inhaling the trail of scent left by Eve's perfume.
"I don't know if you like flowers but…" Eve disappears into the mudroom, returning with a medley of roses—red, white, pink—in a glass vase. "I got you these." She presents the bouquet to Villanelle with an unsure smile. "And a vase too because I didn't know if you had one."
"Oh." Villanelle stands up a little straighter, bouncing lightly on her toes as she admires them. "Flowers are nice," she mutters off to the side, trying to act cool though clearly being moved by the gesture.
Eve sets the vase down on the counter, smiling brighter, pushing it towards Villanelle who runs her fingers across the soft rose petals.
"What for?" She glances at Eve.
"For all the"—Eve notices the splint on Villanelle's finger—"Jesus, what happened to your hand? Did you have that last night?"
"Oh yeah. Cut it on broken glass." Villanelle holds up her hand, wiggling her three free fingers. "Eight stitches."
"Oh my God, are you okay? Does it hurt?"
Villanelle laughs and grins to one side. "I am okay. I could barely feel it," she says proudly, raising her chin and sticking out her chest with an air of gallantry.
Without warning, Eve gently takes Villanelle's injured hand in hers, holding it softly, delicately, careful not to hurt her.
"From Bill's car?" she asks quietly, looking at the splint and not at Villanelle's face.
Villanelle nods.
"We don't get many glass repairs."
Eve sighs, furrowing her brow against the tears, wanting to wrap herself around Villanelle, bury her face in the crook of her neck where she dabs on her perfume, but feeling frozen and stuck in place.
"I'm sorry," she mutters.
Villanelle shrugs her shoulder. "It happens."
"No, I'm sorry for Friday morning," Eve says, looking up at Villanelle with tears forming in her eyes.
Villanelle softens at the sight.
"For fighting about my stupid phone."
"It's okay, you got it back."
"No, not just that," Eve says. "For using your name. Your Russian name."
Villanelle tenses. Her fingers twitch in Eve's hand.
"I know you don't like hearing, don't like people using it, and still I said it and not in a nice way so I'm sorry," Eve says, sighing then sniffing. "And I can pay for the medical bills," she adds quickly.
"Eve." Villanelle laughs. "It's okay. It happened at work. I will make Jess deal with the paperwork." She gives Eve a weak grin with a look on her face like she wants to say more. Her chest pitches up and down faster as she prepares too.
Eve waits for Villanelle to acknowledge the part about her name out loud, briefly reading fear in her eyes before they detach and this part of herself becomes inaccessible.
Villanelle doesn't say anything more.
They are left staring at each other, Eve holding Villanelle's hand, stroking her thumb back and forth across her palm.
"I miss you," Eve says, letting out a held breath after.
Villanelle's throat bobs.
"I miss you too."
Eve breaks into a comforted smile, again wanting to throw her arms around Villanelle but is stopped, too many unasked and unanswered questions in the way.
"Come on."
She leads the way to the couch, sniffing and wiping her nose while behind her, Villanelle starts to panic, having to decide how close to sit. She wants to cozy up right next to Eve, under the same blanket, but sits a respectable distance away which she immediately regrets as soon as Eve glances at the space between them.
Rain starts to come down harder outside, pattering on the pavement. The headlights of a car shine in through the slats in the blinds as it passes. Suddenly, Eve scoots closer and takes Villanelle's hand with an earnest expression. Villanelle draws back slightly from Eve's intensity.
"Are you…" Eve starts then trails off, unable to get herself to ask the intended question. "Why are you working nights?" She goes with instead, her voice taking on a serious tone.
Villanelle's jaw tightens.
"It's my job."
"You didn't use to before."
"I do now."
Eve presses her lips into a thin line.
"Will you get time off because of your hand?"
Villanelle laughs at the notion.
"No."
Eve furrows her brow. "But you have stitches and a splint. You can't even move your finger."
"So?"
"So how can you work like that? Holding tools and working in engines."
"I don't need both hands for easy stuff—oil changes, battery replacement, fluid refills. I can do many things with only one hand," Villanelle adds, hoping humor might get her out of this conversation.
Eve lets out a tired sigh, staring off at the peculiar painting of a person trapped in a bird's beak on the wall.
"What do you do at Vasiliev's Garage?"
"Auto work."
Eve turns and gives Villanelle a look saying she won't accept that answer, that she knows there is more.
"Different kind?" Villanelle cringes.
Everything inside Eve wants to know more, wants to ask a thousand questions, but she refrains. Across from her, Villanelle comes to the realization that Eve saw something, enough to know that there is more than just "auto work" going on at Vasiliev's Garage. Wanting to protect her from it, she decides that the best approach is simply not to tell her, not lie, but omit the truth.
This unspoken acknowledgement, that Eve knows more about the garage and Villanelle knows she followed her, hangs in the air between them, heavy and thick.
Abruptly, Eve stands up and heads for the hallway.
Villanelle's heart drops. "Eve, where are you going?" she calls, listening to Eve's footsteps pad up the stairs. "Eve?" she tries again, swallowing when she doesn't get an answer.
Eve returns looking more solemn, holding something in her hand. Villanelle's eyes move with her as she walks back into the living room and around to the couch.
"Here." Eve holds out her phone.
"What?"
"Unlock it. Go through my pictures, my messages, calls, whatever you want. I don't want to hide anything from you."
"Eve."
"I'm serious." Eve gestures her phone.
"Really, Eve, I don't-"
"Take it."
Villanelle nods, seeing that Eve is not going to back down. She takes Eve's phone, their fingers missing on the handoff, and presses the power button. "Did you-"
"It's the same," Eve replies, sitting down next to Villanelle, slightly farther away than before.
"You really need to change it," Villanelle mutters. Then she types 1-2-3-4, hesitating when the picture of her and Eve together appears on the home screen.
Eve watches closely, waiting for Villanelle to tap the screen, but her thumb hovers just above it until she re-locks the phone and tosses it aside.
"I don't want to look through all your stuff. I don't care anymore," Villanelle says, scooting closer to Eve. "I was in a bad mood on Friday. I haven't been sleeping enough and I skipped breakfast, but it doesn't matter to me what messages or pictures you have on your phone, really. I believe whatever you say. I do." She takes Eve's hand, scooting even closer so that their knees touch. "Eve, all I care about is you."
Eve smiles and squeezes Villanelle's hand. Then her face turns somber.
"He came by yesterday."
"Did he touch you?" Villanelle asks, immediately getting protective.
"No, Elena was here. It was fine." Eve dismisses quickly. "We talked about the divorce petition," she explains. "It's going to take longer than I thought but I promise I'm working on it."
Villanelle nods.
"Villanelle." Eve sighs. "You—this relationship—is my priority. I'm done with him, done being his wife. But I can't just pretend like that part of my life didn't happen."
Villanelle nods again.
"You're all I care about too. The only person I want to be with. I never want to go back to him, ever," Eve goes on. "You make me so much happier than he ever could."
Villanelle gives her a coy smile.
"And I just, I don't"—Eve huffs—"I don't want to keep fighting."
"I don't either."
"I want us to be okay."
"We will be, we are," Villanelle says, clutching Eve's hand. Her chest tightens like words want to come out. But she traps them inside. "Eve, I"—she starts but can't finish, looking away.
"You can tell me. Whatever it is." Eve encourages Villanelle gently, stroking her thumb across her hand.
Villanelle swallows, clamping her jaw and fighting against it. Her leg bounces up and down.
"I don't want to ruin this," she huffs out, very distraught about this internal conflict.
"It's okay," Eve says, putting an arm around Villanelle and pulling her in. After a long moment of silence, she lets out a defeated sigh. "What movie do you want to watch?"
Villanelle sniffs. "The pink one?"
Partway into Pretty in Pink, Villanelle moves around restlessly next to Eve, unable to find a comfortable position. She watches the screen as Duckie flops on Andie's bed.
Oh, God. I love this woman. I love this woman and I have to tell her. And if she laughs, she laughs. And if she doesn't love me, she doesn't love me. But if…if I don't find out…Oh, I love her too much.
The words ringing true for both of them, Villanelle cuddles against Eve, nuzzling her way to her chest, holding her injured hand carefully over the blanket while Eve melts into Villanelle, wrapping her arm around her tighter and kissing the top of her head. They close their eyes and listen to Duckie singing.
Love is real…Real is love…Love is living…Love is feeling…Feeling love…
MONDAY
At eight o'clock sharp, Bill opens the front door of V's Garage, allowing Eve inside first.
"I don't know why you thought you had to come with me," Eve says irritably.
"Because you can't be trusted with my car."
Eve shoots Bill a look over her shoulder.
"It's just a fact," he replies, shrugging his shoulders.
Eve rolls her eyes, already searching the garage for Villanelle when she doesn't see her at the Service Desk, spotting her wiping down the new windows on the Prius.
"She works fast, I'll give her that," Bill says, watching Villanelle toss the cloth on the workbench, grinning at Eve as she walks over.
Eve smiles, lighting up a little. Then her face falls.
"Shit, should I have gotten coffee?" She turns to Bill, anxiously runs her hand through her curls. "Fuck, I should have. Fuck!"
"Eve, relax. There will be plenty of other mornings."
"God, Bill, why didn't you say anything?"
"Naturally, this is my fault."
Before the bickering can escalate, Villanelle comes through the door, followed by a weirdly squirmy Hugo. She flashes a smile at Eve first then addresses Bill who takes the lead at the Service Desk.
"Bill, nice to see you again."
"You as well. Unfortunate circumstances," he adds, glancing at Eve.
Eve scoffs, about to interject but Hugo grabs her arm and pulls her a few steps away.
"What are you doing?" Eve snaps, yanking her arm free.
"Have you talked to Elena?" Hugo asks anxiously.
"I haven't even been to the office yet."
"Well you're her friend, right? Maybe she told you something over the weekend?" Hugo looks at Eve expectantly.
"Jesus, are you serious?" Eve glances over at Villanelle and Bill who are deep in discussion about costs and details of the repair.
"Eve, did you talk to her?" Hugo asks again.
"What?" Eve looks back over. "Yeah," she replies absently.
"Did she say anything about me?" Hugo asks, excited and over-eager. "About how great I was," he adds with a smirk.
"No." Eve tries to escape the situation but Hugo grabs her arm again.
"Eve, wait! What did she say?"
"Stop grabbing me," Eve snaps.
Villanelle instinctively looks over, ears clearly picking up those words even while focused on finishing up with Bill. Seeing it's only Hugo, she goes back to giving Bill a receipt to sign.
"She said it was fine," Eve says with a wave of her hand just to make Hugo go away. "She might be willing to see you again. You should text her." This she adds mainly so she can watch Elena deal with it later. "But don't be all weird and nervous like this."
"Just fine?" Hugo retorts in disbelief, following after Eve as she walks back to the Service Desk. "Eve?"
Villanelle tidies up the copy of Bill's work order, stapling on a receipt and handing it to him along with his keys.
"Don't let Eve near it again," she says with a playful grin directed at Eve.
"Sound advice." Bill nods, turning to Eve. "I was just telling her about that time at trivia night when you stole the microphone and started singing Disney because you were pissed out of your mind."
"What?" Eve retorts, cheeks coloring with embarrassment. "Bill," she growls through her teeth.
"Thought it might be fun for Villanelle and Hugo to join us this week," Bill says. "What do you say?"
Eve glares at him then looks at Villanelle who smirks from ear to ear, clearing conspiring with Bill on something.
"Did you say my name?" Hugo asks, appearing next to Villanelle.
"Jesus Christ," Eve mutters.
"Do you want to go drinking with Eve's friends?" Villanelle asks Hugo, goading him to take the bait.
"Which friends?" Hugo asks. "Will Elena be there?"
Bill exchanges a look and wink with Villanelle.
"See you both on Wednesday."
As he heads for the door, Eve gives Villanelle an anxious look, not wanting to say goodbye.
"I will text you later," Villanelle says. "We can do lunch sometime this week."
"Okay." Eve smiles, needing to hear this.
"Come on, Eve," Bill calls from the door. "We have work to do at the office. I don't pay you to stand around and make plans with your girlfriend."
Eve glares at him, gives Villanelle one last grin, then hurries to the door.
"Wait, will Elena be there?" Hugo asks Villanelle.
"God, you are pathetic."
As she goes through work orders behind the desk, wishing Hugo would leave her alone, she catches Raymond walking up through the windows and escapes down the hall.
"Where are you going?" Hugo calls after her.
"I don't want to deal with him."
"I don't either!"
"Good luck," Villanelle yells, closing the door to the office behind the Parts Desk.
The bell rings. Hugo curses at Villanelle under his breath then sets his jaw and turns with his best customer-service face.
"Hello, how can I-"
"Yes, I have a '63 Corvette that needs servicing."
xxxxx
Much later and under the cover of night, Villanelle pulls the hood of her sweatshirt over her head and slinks down the street, staying out of the glow of street lights. She walks quietly but quickly until she spots the dark grey Porsche parked on the curb outside a well-to-do house, smiling to herself, excitement pulsing through her veins. Instead of going up to the car, she slips around to the back of the house first, inserting a torsion wrench and pick into the keyhole, meticulously moving them around until she feels the click.
Cautiously, she opens the door, sneaking through the dining room and easily finding the Alexander McQueen purse on the kitchen counter, six nights of observation paying off. She retrieves a set of keys from the purse without one jingle and nimbly removes the car key, having no interest in what's in the house, only the car.
In less than a minute, Villanelle has the Porsche key in pocket, the deadbolt re-locked, and a big grin on her face, sitting inside the car. She dances her fingers on the steering wheel. She laughs and steps on the gas, driving away just like that.
With the Porsche parked inside Vasiliev's Garage, Villanelle's work is done for the night. She gives the keys to Audrey, gets an impressed "nice job" in return, then texts Eve before heading out, sending her several messages in a row.
I need to see you
It's important
I will pick you up
I want you at mine
Coming now
Okay?
Eve?
I will be there in 15 min
xxxxx
As soon as the motorcycle comes to a stop on the curb, Eve flies out of her front door looking rather flustered.
"You want me to get on that thing?"
Villanelle yanks off her helmet.
"Yes." She shakes out her sweaty hair. "Lock your door. Come on."
"Jesus Christ, I don't even-"
"I gave you fifteen minutes, Eve. Whatever you think you need, you don't."
Eve scoffs and throws up both hands in defeat. She disappears inside for a moment then comes back out with boots and a jacket on, zipping up her house keys in her pocket as she walks to the curb. "Okay, so-"
Villanelle shoves the helmet into her hands.
"Put it on. Climb on the back. Hold on to me."
Eve gives Villanelle a long look over, unsure of her mood, but does as she says, putting on the helmet and climbing on behind. The engine rumbles between her thighs, vibrating up into her body. She scoots as close to Villanelle as possible and wraps her arms around her, holding on tight.
"You don't need a helmet?" she yells over the thunder of the motor.
"No."
And with that, Villanelle speeds off, barely giving Eve time to react.
xxxxx
Eve bursts through the door with Villanelle behind her, pushing her through the dark foyer. She throws Eve up against the wall in the hallway, tossing the helmet aside.
"Jesus." Eve chuckles, grinning at the enthusiasm. "This is-"
Villanelle's lips collide with Eve's, tongue twisting voraciously around her mouth. She presses herself into Eve, kissing her neck, sucking and biting her skin, then burying her face between her breasts, moving hastily, almost frantic.
She sighs. "I want you so bad."
Her lips find their way back to Eve's, going in for kiss after kiss as she unzips Eve's jacket, slips it off her shoulders and downs her arms, pulls her shirt up her body and works it over her head, coaxing her to take it off.
"Wait," Eve tries to interrupt but Villanelle's hands are already cupping her breasts. A sigh and moan escape her throat. Then she remembers her question. "Is Konstantin here?"
"Who cares."
Villanelle gropes Eve's body, squeezing her all over in hungry grabs that are by no means gentle. An irrepressible urge builds inside, swelling and pushing against her seams. She drifts her kisses from Eve's mouth down to her chest, spending little time on each breast before smashing her lips against Eve's again.
Desire overcomes her. It becomes impossible to think about anything else. She must act on this urge, fulfill it, complete it, and now.
She starts working on Eve's pants, undoing the button, yanking down the zipper in one fell swoop.
"Are your hands even clean?" Eve asks.
"Enough."
Villanelle slides two fingers inside Eve.
"Fuck." Eve clenches, her body not prepared for such sudden intensity.
Villanelle misses the cue, or if she gets it, she doesn't care, overpowered by lust, pressure mounting inside that has to be released.
"Wait." Eve pushes against Villanelle but is met with resistance. "I'm not-"
Villanelle locks her lips on Eve's mouth as she thrusts her fingers fast and hard, rough and with no rhythm.
Eve pulls away from Villanelle just to think.
"Stop," she breathes out, needing a moment to catch up.
Villanelle pretends not to hear. It easily could have been a grunt or a groan. She holds Eve against the wall, quickening her tempo, driving her fingers deeper.
"Stop," Eve repeats, twisting and turning away.
Villanelle growls. It turns into a whimper.
"Villanelle." Eve's tone has more bite.
"Eve, please." Villanelle huffs, sounding desperate.
"Stop!"
"Eve-"
"Stop!" Eve shoves Villanelle off of her with some effort. "Jesus, when I tell you to stop you fucking stop."
"Eve." Villanelle grabs her hand, leaning in again. "Come on."
"No." Eve turns her head away, yanking her hand free.
Unexpectedly, to her and Villanelle, she breaks down, holding her hand to her forehead and looking away as tears stream from her eyes.
"Eve," Villanelle growls impatiently, not understanding the situation, still feeling pent up and needing a release which has now been blocked causing her lust to turn into anger.
"Take me home," Eve mutters.
"What?"
"Take me home," Eve says again, louder and with more authority.
Villanelle's brows go up with a look of contempt.
"Fine."
xxxxx
Promptly upon arrival home, with only word exchanged—"here" when Eve handed back the helmet—Eve sits on the back porch and lights a cigarette with shaky fingers, replaying the events that just transpired. Her thoughts swirl around to memories of Niko and feeling overpowered physically, the fear that comes with being in a relationship like that.
Eve reaches over for the ashtray, having to break it out from its hiding spot on the top shelf in her closet earlier in the week because, yes, she is smoking more, and discovers a brown cigarette butt, distinctively different than the white one between her fingers.
AN: Thanks for reading! Feedback is welcome :)