Crossroads

by Blake Haugen

  “Hey, come here; I love you. Only you would think I’m wonderful. You’re the wonderful one, babe.”

  “Nuh uh.”

  “Uh huh.”

  Vanya had traded rebuttals with Persephone and made love to her. It was the most passionate sex they’d had that week. He’d fucked her into the early hours of the morning, alternately whispering and shouting his love to her. She’d returned each sentiment and did her best to reciprocate each of the orgasms he’d given her. She’d lain in bed when he left a few hours ago, exhausted and dead to the world.

  Their night had spurred him into action. It was fortunate that Peter Benson was in town. Vanya called him and asked him to meet at Kirill’s offices in a few minutes. He’d also made an appointment with Peng to begin the designs for an engagement ring that evening. The way Vanya saw it, there was no reason why he and Persephone couldn’t be engaged throughout their last year of law school. They could be married at the country estate like Lina and Austin. By this time next year, she could be a Pravdin.

  Out of respect, he wanted to talk to Peter about his intentions. Vanya wasn’t too concerned about how the man felt one way or another – he was marrying Persephone. Even so, he knew Peter looked at Persephone as a daughter and would appreciate the gesture. The man was nothing if not traditional. If this meeting made the transition into married life easier for her, it would be worth it.

  Without warning, Mikhail came through the office door with a cake box in hand. Vanya was immediately alarmed by the black eye his cousin sported. “What the hell happened to you?” he asked without preamble.

  “Papa,” Mikhail shrugged and took a seat on the sleek black leather sofa by the door.

  “Your father?” Vanya questioned. Mikhail would have never referred to Kirill as Papa. Vanya’s Uncle Nicolai, Kirill’s younger brother, lived in Russia and managed the family’s interests in that country. Vanya had known Mikhail had been running guns in the last week, but he hadn’t known the trip would take him to see his father. The twins and their mother had moved to the States after the fall of the Soviet Union in 1991 at the age seven. Nicolai thought it safer and visited several times a year. When their mother died, he stayed in the States for two years, but it was about as much as he could stand. The twins moved in with Kirill and Mariya and she took up their care. Nicolai would always visit the States for a month during the boys’ basketball season, but since they’d graduated high school and college, his visits never spanned more than a week.

  “Yeah, there was a job I should have done myself that went wrong. And this,” Mikhail gestured to his eye, “was the ‘talk’ he gave me.”

  “A job he gave you? Care to be more specific?”

  “Not really,” he mumbled. After Vanya stared him down, he set the cake box on the coffee table, and rose to close the door. Mikhail was more levelheaded than his twin, but he wasn’t a paragon of solemnity like Max. Closing the door could only mean that what Mikhail was about to say was serious.

  “After my run, I was supposed to be getting in touch with a guy Papa wanted to hire to take care of some things. Very old, very good at his job. Anyway, just getting in touch with this guy is a pain in the ass. You have to put information in a digital drop box, but the box is only active on some Web site for a few minutes. It’s absurd. They missed the drop, and Papa was pissed.”

  “And he punched you for that?”

  “No, he punched me because I told Uncle what happened first. Uncle just happened to call me after it happened.”

  “Why does that even matter?”

  “Right?! Apparently, Kirill didn’t even know what I was doing; what Papa was doing!”

  “What the fuck?!”

  “Yeah. So, I go back to Papa and tell him I talked to Uncle and he flipped. He started saying all this shit like, ‘Whose son are you?’ and ‘You’re an American bitch!’ Fucking crazy bastard, he should have told me. He should have told Uncle. What the fuck is he up to over there? I don’t want to be in the middle of their petty rivalry shit. I cross borders for them. It’s me out there all the time. Yuli can’t do this shit. I can’t have them against me, too, you know?”

  Mikhail had stopped looking directly at Vanya. His bright green eyes were staring at the cake box but not really seeing it. He pulled at his hair and for the first time Vanya noticed that Mikhail looked older than his own twin.

  Vanya looked down at his hands. He felt ashamed that he didn’t even know how burdened Mikhail felt – Mikhail, who was supposed to be his best friend. However, thinking on it, Vanya realized that was no longer true. Persephone was his best friend; she was his everything. Still, while Vanya was researching the Madrid attack, Mikhail had been executing a poor plan he hadn’t even conceived. He’d only submitted to the foolery because he felt a sense of duty to his father, even risking exposure to do so. It was unacceptable.

  “We’ll get to the bottom of this. I can talk to Papa today. You’ll never have to do anything like that –”

  A knock interrupted Vanya and the receptionist cracked the door open, “Mr. Pravdin, Mr. Benson has arrived to see you. He’s waiting out front.” She closed the door almost as quickly as she’d opened it.

  Mikhail stood and put off Vanya’s attempt to stop him. “Nah, go ahead. We’ll talk about it later. We shouldn’t discuss it here. That guy’s probably going to be your father-in-law or something soon, anyway, right? You want to get on his good side. Don’t keep him waiting.”

  “Mischa,” Vanya said sternly before Mikhail passed through the door, “I’ll take care of this.”

  “Thanks,” Mikhail nodded and then gestured to the cake box. “They’re piroshky and syrniki. I stopped by the main shop today and apparently Eva was on some kind of cooking spree this morning. Give them out or something.”

  He walked out and Vanya followed him, clapping a hand on his back when they parted in the vestibule. Mikhail walked to the elevators without acknowledging him or Peter, whom he passed without a word. Peter either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He looked Vanya in the eye and took his hand in a firm grip. He looked out of place in comparison to the sleek glass and steel modernist décor of the offices.

  Peter Benson was the definition of gruff. His hair was white but full. He styled it in a military crew cut and had done his best to keep his face clean-shaven although a white five o’clock shadow had already sprung up on his face. His pale blue eyes sat above his high cheekbones, surrounded by several age lines. Those lines and his leathery skin were the only old things about him. Peter was buff and his simple navy t-shirt displayed a taut chest and large biceps. He wore what Persephone had once jokingly referred to as “Stranglers,” extremely tight, quality blue jeans. They covered his traditional cowboy boots.

  Peter didn’t return Vanya’s smile; he just pressed his thin lips together and nodded. It was unnerving, but Vanya was outwardly unperturbed. He reminded himself that this was his territory and he was doing Peter a favor – being courteous before the inevitable took place. When they made their way back to his office, Vanya motioned for Peter to take a seat on the sofa behind the clear Lucite coffee table. He took his own seat on a chair in front of his desk and turned it toward the coffee table. His goal was to keep this meeting as casual as possible.

  “Mr. Benson, thanks for making time to see me. Are you sure you don’t want to step out for something to eat? There are a number of great places in the area. You should enjoy the city while you’re here.”

  “No, Ivan, I have an idea what this is about, and I don’t mind comin’ up here to talk about it with you,” Peter said while looking at Vanya directly. He sat on the edge of the sofa with his elbows on his knees, looking as if he were ready to pounce. There was an air of danger about him, and when Vanya thought about it, he realized Peter did know several ways to kill another human being with his bare hands. He supposed Peter’s hands were clasped with forearms flexed to bring attention to that fact.

  “Well then, I won’t beat around the bush. I intend to marry
Persephone and I wanted to take this opportunity to discuss it with you.”

  “When do you plan on askin’ her?”

  “Soon. I want a wedding shortly after we graduate in the spring.”

  “Will she say yes?”

  That question threw Vanya. He hadn’t actually considered it until now. Even so, the answer was affirmative. “She will.”

  “Well, why’re you askin’ me about it?”

  “I would think the answer is obvious, Mr. Benson. I love Persephone, you care about Persephone –”

  “I love her as my own.” Peter sat up then, puffing his chest and tilting his head. He looked at Vanya with censure. Vanya simply nodded and continued.

  “And you and your family are about the only family she has left in the world. I’m declaring my intentions.”

  “Yeah, I’ve known your intentions for a while. If Persephone wants to marry you, I’m fine with it. I won’t stop it… hell, I couldn’t stop it.”

  “But you don’t approve?”

  “My approval doesn’t matter.”

  “Humor me,” Vanya commanded coolly. He hadn’t anticipated excitement on Peter’s part, but he hadn’t expected opposition either. He grew agitated at the thought of Peter poisoning Persephone against him. Peter pursed his lips and considered Vanya carefully. Vanya sat still and patient with his arms crossed. He refused to look away, and after a few silent moments Peter spoke.

  “Persephone has worked very hard to have a normal life and she deserves it. Other kids woulda crumbled under the pressures she’s faced, but she’s different. She’s thrived were others woulda failed. I don’t want you and your shady-ass family to ruin that or anything else about her.”

  Vanya exhaled and spoke grimly. “Let me make something damn clear here. I will never harm Persephone in any way. I’d die first. I will always protect her; I don’t care what you say or think about me and my family.”

  “Then stop pussyfootin’, askin’ me up here like you do,” Peter shot back, rising to his feet. “You ain’t a good man and you know it. And you sure as shit are not what I woulda chosen for Perry. But hell, history just always repeats itself, doesn’t it?”

  “And what does that mean?” Vanya calmly looked up at Peter from his chair; he was mad, but he tried to keep his temper. He so badly wanted to hear about the history to which Peter referred, and didn’t want to spook the man into shutting up.

  “Don’t you worry about it, Ivan. I’d wish yah luck with the proposal, but I wouldn’t mean it. I’ll see myself out.”

  “You don’t want to stick around to meet your new in-laws?” Vanya asked derisively before Peter made his way through the door.

  “I’ll catch ‘em at the weddin’, Ivan. Good day.” With that, Peter was down the hall and out of sight.

  Vanya remained seated. It wasn’t long before Lina popped her head through the door. “Hey, Eva texted saying she sent some syrniki up here with Mikhail. I’m hungry; are those it?”

  Vanya nodded once and pointed toward the cake box on the coffee table. He’d forgotten to offer some syrniki to Peter, not that it would have mattered. Lina stepped into the office, took a seat, and pulled a pastry from the box.

  “What’s wrong, Vanushka?” she asked before taking a bite into one topped with raspberry kissel.

  “An unpleasant complication, not an insurmountable one.”

  “Who was your meeting with just now?”

  “Peter Benson.”

  “Oh, the godfather. So, he doesn’t like you? That’s okay. They live in Texas, right? You only have to see him once a year. It’s so far away.”

  “He thinks my ‘shady-ass family’ and I will ruin her. He said I’m not a good man and I know it.”

  “You’re a strong man, Vanya. You have the strength to make decisions others don’t. You’re like Papa and me that way. People are intimidated by that. I’m sure he loves her; he was just acting out of fear. It’ll blow over, and if it doesn’t… well, ultimately that isn’t your problem. Proceed as planned.”

  “It’s just that there’s this one thing he said that I didn’t understand. He said something like, ‘I guess history is repeating itself,’ as if he knew something about Persephone and marriage and it being wrong. It was weird.”

  “Ask Persephone about it.”

  “Well, I can hardly tell her I met with Peter to ask about her marriage plans. I was hoping he would give me some insight on how to propose. She doesn’t even want to think about marriage until we’re done with school.”

  “Then tie the proposal into graduation. That’s a good compromise. Surprise her like she did with you, just better.”

  “That’ll be hard to top.”

  “Do you have a ring?”

  “Nearly; I’m meeting Peng to start the design tonight.”

  “Eh, you can do it then,” Lina waved him off and stood to leave. She took a couple of piroshky for the road. Before she made it out the door, Kirill stepped in.

  “Good, the both of you are here. Lev Fedorovich is opening his new restaurant on Friday evening. Lina, bring Austin. And you, Vanya, bring Miss Peterson. We’re supposed to be there at seven o’clock.”

  Alarm bells rang in Vanya’s ears. His father was inviting Persephone to a private event? Such a thing would have been unthinkable a year ago. “Ugh, is there a reason Persephone needs to come?”

  “Excuse me?” Kirill looked down at Vanya who was still seated. He wasn’t used to questioning from his son. Vanya could tell his father was trying to hold back his agitation.

  “I mean, you’ve never asked for her presence at something like this before. I’m not sure she’ll be interested in going or if she’ll even be available for that matter. It’ll be a surprise to her; that’s all I’m saying.”

  Kirill rolled his eyes, shook his head with annoyance, and then spoke plainly. “You want to marry this girl, right? I just saw her father or whatever he is walk out of here looking frustrated. Fedorovich wants only family at this thing. Everyone talks about your secret woman. There will be plenty more whispers after this absence.”

  “She’s not a secret,” Vanya protested.

  “Then invite her and be on time on Friday,” Kirill said flatly. He turned and left the office without another word. Vanya heard Kirill’s office door close softly down the hall. He looked at Lina with puzzlement.

  “I don’t even know,” Lina said, answering the question in his face. “I’m surprised, too.”

  “He eats with you and Austin regularly now, doesn’t he?”

  “Um, more like once a month, but yeah, you could say regularly.”

  “So, what? Does this mean we’re in the club now?”

  “Like I said, I don’t know. You’ll just have to bring her on Friday and find out.” Having finished the syrniki, Lina took a large bite out of her first piroshky and took her leave. Several crumbs had fallen to the floor and Vanya sucked in a breath of ire. Those crumbs were the icing of the cake that was this obnoxious day. Having no one to vent to, he stepped through his office door and barked at the receptionist to get a broom.

  ☐

  Persephone sat at Aperture next to Vanya on Friday. The place was filled to the brim and she didn’t know how they were going to get to see the owner for more than three minutes. Vanya said Kirill told him that this was a private event, but she thought if this was a pre-opening party, then the restaurant would be overrun on its opening night. She supposed that was a good thing.

  More than all the people, she was nervous about Kirill. This was the first family event he’d invited her to personally and she prayed he didn’t do anything stupid to insult her. It seemed Vanya wasn’t worried about his father. He had been smothering Persephone with concern all night. This was their first outing together since they returned from Europe a few weeks ago. He constantly asked if she was okay when other guests came close or she withdrew from conversation.

  Kirill had either not arrived yet, or was detained by one of the many guests. Several of the
patrons did seem to know each other. Vanya had said this was a family gathering, but Mikhail and Yulian were noticeably absent. Austin clicked away on his phone, working on some real estate deal no doubt. Lina was talking to an older man at the bar; her manner relayed a business deal was taking place there as well. Vanya tried to look occupied and not stare at Persephone, and she tried to lighten his mood.

  “Well, I don’t think they’ll have to worry about the place taking off okay. If this is just his close friends and family, I’d say he’s got it in the bag.”

  “Yeah, Fedorovich’s kids are over the whole ‘recipes-from-Russia’ thing. They’re all highly trained chefs and this is the family’s second restaurant. I wouldn’t be surprised if they open another one in five years.”

  “Well, it’s certainly on trend.” There were very few partitions within the restaurant and almost all the walls were made of glass. The building was elevated from the street level atop an artificial hill surrounded by English garden shrubbery. The place itself was something to rave about.

  “This construction and this property must have cost them though; but even if the restaurant fails they’ll be able to walk out of here with a profit. This space is versatile and this is prime real estate. That’s good business,” Austin joined in. “I just hope they don’t have too many nut dishes. It’s supposed to be an Eastern fusion place. Me and Thai food are usually a no-no.”

  “Nut allergy?” Persephone asked.

  “Peanut allergy. I almost died when I was four or so my parents tell me. I don’t even remember.”

  “Whoa,” Vanya shrugged and nodded. Their conversation was officially dull. Persephone wished Kirill would arrive. Her interaction with him was the main event of the evening, and she was ready for action. This was her last Friday night of freedom before the final year of law school started. She didn’t want to waste it on an uncomfortable icebreaker with Kirill Pravdin. She’d rather be watching a play with Finn and Emma.