by Tia Siren
“Real estate deals.”
“Yer, real estate deals. And who gave you the first piece of real estate?”
“You.” This was what he always did. Whenever he disliked something Andrey did, he'd call him in and remind him that it was he who had given Andrey a property to get him going. Sokolov was also from St. Petersburg, and when he'd bumped into Andrey, they'd chatted about the city. Sokolov had been impressed by Andrey's physique and had given him a job as one of his rent collectors. Some of the things Andrey had done, he was not proud of. Evicting men and women with young children had never been his thing, but he'd done it. He'd seen Sokolov's real estate gift to him as justified payment for the sleepless nights he was still having.
“Me indeed.” Sokolov looked at the fire for a while and then jumped up and took Andrey by the throat. “What the fuck were you doing screwing that black journalist in my restaurant the other evening?”
“It was just that, a screw, so what's your problem?” Andrey thought he was strong enough to push Sokolov from him, but he wasn't sure he could beat him in the boxing match that was bound to ensue if he did so.
“My problem is twofold. First, she's a journalist, and second, she's black. I don't want a person like that snooping around in my life. If I see her again, she's a goner. Got it?”
“So what if she's black, you racist pig? She's hotter than any slut you've ever had.” Andrey fell back onto the sofa as Sokolov landed an upper cut to his chin.
*****
Nicki stood outside the Crab and Lobster for half an hour before she got up the courage to go inside. Mel looked at her and turned away.
“Mel, is Andrey here?”
Mel had nothing against Nicki, but she didn't need another confrontation with Sokolov, and she was scared he would do worse than tear her blouse next time. “Upstairs, but leave now. You're not welcome here.”
“I need to speak to him. It's important.”
Mel turned to her. When she saw Nicki's face, feminine intuition told her why Nicki had come to the restaurant, and she felt sorry for her. “You know the way,” Mel said, pointing to the stairs.
Nicki knocked on the apartment door and turned the door handle. When the door opened slightly, she saw him lying on the bed. “Andrey.”
When he looked over at her, she saw he had two back eyes and a lump on his chin. He jumped off the bed and ushered her inside. “What are you doing here? It's too dangerous for you to be here now.”
“Why?” Nicki didn’t understand. It had only been a few nights ago that she’d been here. Andrey didn't reply. “Andrey, I need your help. I'm pregnant.”
“You've got to leave. I don't want to see you anymore.”
“Did you hear me? I'm pregnant,” Nicki sobbed.
“I heard you. Now go or I'll carry you out of here.”
“But you can't treat me like this.” Her sobs became stronger. “We had...such a lovely time...I know you...care about me.” She put her hand on his shoulder, trying to pull herself to him.
“No, Nicki, I don't want you. I'm not interested in you or your baby. Now go. I won't ask you again.”
This couldn’t be happening. Three weeks ago everything had been fine; now her life had become a living hell. Her tears went, replaced by anger. “How can you do this, you heartless bastard? You could at the very least offer to help me look after the child financially.”
He took hold of her by her coat, marched her to the door, and pushed her through it. She heard it close and the lock turn. When Andrey lay back on the bed, he put his hands over his ears to block out the echoes of Nicki's sobs as she went down the stairs.
Before Nicki left the stairwell, she wrote a note. When she went through the restaurant, she handed it to Mel. “Give him this, will you?” she said.
*****
Betty's tea room wasn't busy. Nicki counted four people: two elderly ladies deep in conversation, a young mother struggling to keep her toddler quiet, and a man in a business suit. Betty's was the premier tea room in New York, and it was usually impossible to get a table. Nicki wondered what she was doing in such an expensive place. She had precious little money and not much prospect of getting any in the near future.
Nathan came in through the main entrance and looked around for her. When he spotted her, he smiled and wandered over to the table in his usual casual manner.
“Can't stay away from me,” he said hopefully.
“Nathe, I called you because I need your help.” She knew it was a liability, contacting him after she had dumped him, but she was getting desperate.
“Sure, anything.” He smiled. He took her hand, but she pulled back.
“I'm pregnant, Nathan. I'm pregnant, and I really need a favor.”
“You're what?” Now there was no chance they would ever get back together. “So why the hell did you call me and not the father?”
Nicki avoided his gaze. “He doesn't want to have anything to do with me.”
“I'm not surprised,” he said cruelly. “You're behaving like a whore, limping from one man to the next.”
Nicki tried to ignore his words. “Can you help me get a job at the Times?”
“You're kidding. Maybe I could have helped you, but now you're pregnant. How do you expect anyone to employ you?” The waitress appeared, carrying a menu. The manner in which he waved her away did little to make her long day any better. “There is no chance. Do you seriously expect to start a job and then a few months later go on pregnancy leave? What boss in his right mind would welcome that?” She nodded and stared out the window at a woman with a stroller. “What happened to your dream of being a freelancer? Did it go down the pan as I told you it would?”
“I’ve written a couple of things that haven't sold. I don't have the energy to chase the big stories. Most mornings I'm hanging over the toilet.”
“Well, you should have thought about that before you went screwing around.” He scowled and drew in a large gulp of air. “Here's what I suggest: You either go home to your parents or you look in the paper for a part-time job until the baby is born. I've noticed there's plenty of jobs for office cleaners. Good-bye, Nicki.” When he got up, her eyes followed him to the door. When he was no longer in sight, she felt empty as never before.
*****
When Andrey saw Sokolov, he wanted to kill him. His treatment of both him and Mel had been arrogant and brutal, and it was time to teach him a lesson.
“Andrey, my boy, have you come to apologize?”
“No. I've come to tell you that you are a two-bit piece of shit. You're nothing but a lowlife whore fucker.”
Sokolov flew into a rage. He got up and tried to grab Andrey, but he was too fast, and Andrey dodged the heavier man. Andrey continued to goad him.
“All you've done with your life is threaten and rob people.”
Sokolov was now at one side of the sofa, Andrey at the other. They played cat and mouse around the sofa for a few seconds before Andrey spoke again.
“You've never done half the things attributed to you. Everyone thinks you're a tough guy. You're not. You're a pussy.”
Sokolov was now beside himself. He jumped over the sofa and caught Andrey by his T-shirt. Andrey pulled away, hard, leaving Sokolov holding the shirt. “I've done more with my life than you will ever do. Who do you think you are? I'm gonna kill you,” Sokolov shouted. One of his bodyguards appeared, but Sokolov held up his hand. “Leave this to me.”
“You're just a showoff, leaving everyone to think that you killed Judge Hudson but got away with it. Why don't you ever deny it? Everybody knows the jury was right. You haven't got the balls to kill anybody.”
“I killed Judge Hudson, just like I'm gonna kill you.”
“You didn't. You're a liar and a cheat. I've never met anybody so full of bullshit.”
“I tell you, I killed him with this gun.” Sokolov walked over to a cabinet and opened the drawer. When he pulled out a Magnum, he pointed it at Andrey. Andrey put his hands up and stood still.
*****
Nicki was lying on her bed, considering what she should tell her parents. Her cell phone rang.
“Hello, is this Nicki?” the man said.
“Yes, that's me.”
“My name is Sergeant Jonathon Greaves from the New York Police Department. I was wondering if you could help me.”
“Er...sure. I will if I can, but I haven't done anything wrong.”
“No, I'm sure you haven't. It's just that we found a man lying by the side of the freeway, very badly beaten. When we checked his clothing, we found a note with your name on it.” Nicki put her hand to her mouth. “It says, quote, 'Dear Andrey, I am sorry I have disappointed you. If you ever change your mind, please call me. I will always wait for you,' and then your telephone number.”
“Oh my God, is he dead?” she asked fearfully.
“No, but he's in intensive care. Who is he?”
“He's a man I met at a restaurant in New York,” she said, lying. “We had a good time and then had a bit of an argument. I liked him, so I left him a note. Can I go and see him?”
“Sure, but I warn you, he's a mess.”
*****
Nicki almost screamed when she entered Andrey’s hospital room and saw him. A TV hung from the ceiling, and there was a cupboard on wheels to the side of the bed. She didn't want to count how many tubes were sticking out him. There was a machine on a stand that seemed to be measuring his heartbeat and other vital functions.
She took off her coat and pulled up a chair. What had he been doing? Who had done this to him? Would he be angry when he woke up and saw her? She would have to wait.
After a couple of hours, a nurse came and replaced the drip.
“Is he going to be all right?” Nicki asked.
“We think so. All his organs are okay, and he hasn't suffered any brain damage. He's got a few broken bones, and he'll need painkillers for some time, but we're optimistic.” She looked at Nicki sympathetically. “Are you his wife?” Nicki shook her head.
Sometime around 11 p.m., he woke up. Nicki was asleep in the chair next to him. When he saw her, he smiled. His mouth was swollen, and he couldn't speak very loudly, but Nicki wasn't in a very deep sleep, and his whisper was enough to wake her.
“Nicki, I'm sorry.”
“No, it's all right. I'm just glad you're alive.”
“Where are my jeans?”
Why did he want his jeans? Surely they should be the least of his worries. “I don't know.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Please find them.”
Nicki went to find a nurse, and when she came back she opened the beside cabinet and pulled out a plastic bag. When she took out a pair of jeans, she heard him give a sigh of relief. “Here. The nurse said she'd put them in the cupboard.”
“Great.” He paused and took in another breath. “Look inside the left leg.”
“Andrey, why?” She put her hand up into the leg and felt around. When she pulled her hand out, she was holding a tiny wire with a little box on the end of it. “What is it?” she asked.
He didn't answer. “Now call Mel at the restaurant and tell her to go into my apartment. Under the bed there is a black box the size of a cigarette packet. She should bring it here.” He coughed and winced. “Tell her to grab my wallet from the bedside cabinet and some of my clothes. She should close the restaurant and come here. Tell her to be quick.”
Nicki dialed the restaurant and told Mel what Andrey wanted her to do. While they were waiting for Mel to show up, Andrey took his opportunity.
“I want you, Nicki. I want to be with you and be the father of our child.”
She gasped and fought back the tears. “Then why didn't you tell me when I came to you? Why did you send me away in such a cruel manner?” She didn't understand his behavior, and she wanted some answers.
“Sokolov. Because of Sokolov. When you told me you were going to try and interview him, I wanted you to know how dangerous it was.” He gulped some more air before continuing. “I didn't want him to see you hanging around me. And when you arrived at the restaurant, pregnant, I had to be cruel and send you away. For your own sake. He's a racist and will kill you if he finds out about our child. Forgive me, but I could see no other way at the time.”
“So you cared for me all along?”
“Yes, very much. I have been thinking about you all the time.”
“Then why didn't you give me some indication, anything?”
“Because I wanted to do something for you first.”
“What?”
“Wait until Mel gets here.”
They sat and held hands as they waited for Mel. Nicki tried to kiss him on the lips, but the pain was too great. She ended up kissing him on the top of the forehead.
When Mel arrived, she was carrying a bag that was almost bigger than her.
“Did you find the small black box?” he asked. She nodded and held it up.
“And your wallet and some clothes. Hi, Nicki, by the way,” she added.
“Right, listen to me, both of you. I've got a house nobody knows about. It's in Montana. I want you both to go there and wait for me. When I get out of here, I'll come to you. You'll be safe there, and if Nicki does her job properly, we'll soon be safe forever.”
Nicki understood the part about going to Montana, but not the part about her doing her job properly. “What do you mean?” she asked.
“Take the black box, open it, and listen to the tape inside.”
She took the box from Mel and opened the lid. Inside there was a tiny recorder. She pressed the play button and listened.
“Andrey, my boy, have you come to apologize?”
“No. I've come to tell you that you are a two-bit piece of shit. You're nothing but a lowlife whore fucker. All you've done with your life is threaten and rob people. You've never done half the things attributed to you. Everyone thinks you're a tough guy. You’re not. You're a pussy.”
“I've done more with my life than you will ever do. Who do you think you are? I'm gonna kill you. Leave this to me.”
“You're just a showoff, leaving everyone to think that you killed Judge Hudson but got away with it. Why don't you ever deny it? Everybody knows the jury was right. You haven't got the balls to kill anybody.”
“I killed Judge Hudson, just like I'm gonna kill you.”
“You didn't. You're a liar and a cheat. I've never met anybody so full of bullshit.”
“I tell you, I killed him with this gun.”
“Bring him over here. Lift him up. Take him and dump him next to the freeway.”
“But how?” Nicki asked when the tape stopped.
“That wire in my jeans transmitted the signal to the recorder. I knew if I goaded him, he would give us something. I did it for you, Nicki. If you get this story right, your career will take off like you never expected. It's a hot story. Take it and use it. The world will think you are the best journalists alive. The murder weapon is a Magnum; he keeps it in a drawer in the sitting room.”
Nicki had no idea what to say.
“Mel, give me my wallet.” He took out a couple of cards. “Here are two credit cards. Use them to pay for the journey. There is a car in the garage in Montana, so you can go and get supplies. Here's the address and the number of the housekeeper.” He handed Nicki a note.
*****
Nicki and Andrey stood outside the church and applauded as Mel and her new husband, a rancher from Great Falls, Montana, came out t
o cheers and lots of confetti. Nicki bent down to Andrey Junior and helped him and his toy elephant onto his father's shoulders.
“Well, Journalist of the Year 2015, what do you think of that? Almost as good as our wedding, wasn't it?” Andrey said.
Nicki nodded and kissed him.
*****
Three weeks later
“Andrey, where do you want me to hang this?” Nicki shouted.
“What is it?” he asked.
“The article about Sokolov being sentenced to life in prison.”
“The best place for him is the toilet.”
*****
THE END
Ménage Romance – Twin Stepbrothers’ Baby
1
I tried to smile as my mother swept into the room, but it was hard to do. After all, could I really be that happy for her third wedding? She and my father divorced when I was ten. No big deal, I guess. When I was twelve, she married Steve. He was an all right guy. He treated my mother well and did right by me. But for whatever reason, just after I graduated high school, my mother left him.
My mother had never worked a day in her life. Well, not up until that point. My father took care of her, and then Steve did. They both did well for themselves, for us. Steve had his own son, and we all lived together for four years. He made less than my dad, and there were more of us, but still my mother never worked.
Deborah. That was my mother’s name. Deb. It sounded like a serial bride’s name, didn’t it? When Deborah left Steve, she took as much from his as she could. It got her through a couple of years. I left, went to college, and got my own debt, most of it stemming from ridiculous student loans.
And then my mother had to work. She couldn't put it off any longer. For two years she had made it on what she’d gotten from Steve. She dated during that time, but nothing ever turned out to be serious.
First, Deb got a job at a coffee shop. She was fifty. It humiliated her, and she quit within her first week. A few other jobs followed, and then she applied to Harding Corp. I thought that was a dumb name for the company, but they had their hand in a lot of stuff. If you walked into any big box store, half the stuff came from them. Shampoo, blankets, oven mitts, Harding Corp made it all. For such a big company, you would think they would be headquartered in New York or California somewhere, but nope. They had a big building smack dab in the middle of downtown Chicago, where I was born and raised (well, the suburbs at least.)