Anton…
I stand up slowly, listening. Now, there’s a name I haven’t heard foryears.I creep across the kitchen toward the closed door leading to the dining room.
“… coming back from Moscow,” someone says in Russian. “You would think he’d stay there after what happened to Maksim.”
I know that name, too. Maksim is a colleague of my father’s. My limited knowledge of my father’s businesses came through the cracks of doors and behind half-open windows for my entire life. Being the daughter of a Pakhan, it’s impossible to be in the dark for one’s entire life. Eventually, one way or another, my family’s true identity was bound to become known to me.
Now, I casually listen to bits of plans here and there whenever they interest me and this time, the name Anton has grabbed my attention.
There have to be at least ten Antons within our Bratva alone. I’m kind of hoping it’s none of them. There’s only one Anton that I’d be interested in. I listen a little closer.
“What do you think?” someone asks in Russian. “He’s got a new role now. Maksim’s shoes are hard to fill.”
“We will see,” father says. “I know Anton. He’s resourceful… but he has weaknesses that could be exploited.”
I step away from the door. I want to hear more about what they’re talking about, but I feel like I’m pushing it, so I tiptoe back through the kitchen and look in the refrigerator. Sureenough, my bottle of vodka is chilling on the second shelf. I grab it and escape the kitchen.
Ilya’s sitting on my couch when I walk back into the pool house, remote in her hand. “I was thinking we can watch that new episode of… what?”
It must be written all over my face. I feel like it is. My cheeks feel hot and I’m smiling like an idiot. “Nothing,” I say and go into my kitchen to make our drinks.
She gets up and follows me. “Nat, what is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I sigh. She’s not gonna leave this alone. “Okay, so you have to promise not to give me a hard time about this.”
“I don’t know what ‘this’ is. How can I give you a hard time?”
“Just promise, okay?”
She rolls her eyes. “Fine. What’s going on?”
“Do you remember my sweet sixteen? When all of my dad’s friends were hanging out in the kitchen?—”
Her mouth drops. “Oh, my God, yes, I remember!” She narrows her eyes for a moment, then, “Are you about to tell me that Anton Romanoff’s here? Today?” Her hands go up to her hair, which is slightly wavy at the ends, and she smooths it down, her face flushing.
“No, no. He’s not here… Well, nothere. I guess he was away for a while in Russia, but now, I guess, he’s back in town.” Her eyes get big and I say, “You promised, Lee.”
She covers her mouth and squeals. I shake my head. Jeez, I should have kept it to myself.
“You had thebiggestcrush on him,” she says. “How incredible would it be if he came over here and saw you now, all grown up?”
“Not incredible at all!” I say with a laugh. “I have a boyfriend. Remember? Mr. So-serious-he-has-to-meet-my-dad?”
“Okay, sure. And I’m sure that Andrei is a wonderful guy… butAnton?—”
I hand her the Screwdriver I just made and say, “Not another word. Please.”
She sighs and swirls her drink around in her glass. “All right.” We both take sips and I nearly choke. I put a little too much vodka in mine.
“You think I should ask him out, though?” she asks suddenly.
“Anton, you mean?” I laugh. “Isn’t he, like, your dad’s age?”
“Isn’t heyourdad’s age?”
“Whatever. Are we going to watch a movie or what?”
With that, we both sit down on my couch and turn on a movie. I don’t even pay much attention to it. I keep thinking about Anton Romanoff. It was years ago, the last time I saw him, tall with dark blond hair with broad shoulders and deep, dark eyes you could drown in.
