Fifteen minutes later,my scowl was deeper yet my mind was swimming in hope. Nikolai led me outside to a black car where his driver waited. The car rumbled against the cold, late-December winds.
"And where have I agreed to go for the next hour?" I grumbled.
Nikolai grinned. "To the City Ballet."
"Oh, fuck me.”
It was a short drive to the theater, where a well-dressed crowd lined the sidewalk, waiting eagerly to get tickets. I was suddenly glad that Nikolai insisted I showered if she were one of the many people standing underneath the bright lights. I didn’t want to see Eva looking like the Reaper, with blood splattered on my face and my hair in disarray.
"It's the last night of the show," Nikolai said, referring to the many people scrambling to get inside. "They've had a good turnout."
"And you know this because..."
"Because I've gone every night. You know that redhead I mentioned?" Nikolai mentioned many conquests, including many redheads. It was impossible to keep track of them all, but I nodded my head anyway in hopes he would get to the point sooner. "Well, she must have been pretty impressed with my performance. I mean, who wouldn't be? My cock is?—"
"Niko.”
"Right. Anyway, she wanted me to come see the show, and I told her I had expensive tastes because I wasn't going to sit withregular peoplewith some child kicking my seat and another person smelling like cheap cologne and mildly stale popcorn. I can just see it now, liquor spilling all over my cashmere?—"
"Nikolai.The point. Find it."
My cousin leaned in and gave me a sly smile. "What's the magic word?"
I narrowed my eyes. "Now."
"Well, she gave me box seats, and I came here one night. During intermission, I got to thinking about your darling Eva girl?—"
"Don't fucking call her that," I growled, hands tightening on the seats until my knuckles were white and there were little crescent moons on the leather. If the driver hadn't opened the door right at that moment, I might have punched my cousin.
"—and anyway, I think the rest is better said inside. Just follow me."
The building was a monument to excess, all marble columns, warm golden light, and flickering lights that were in desperate need of an update. People clustered beneath the overhang, bundled in wool and fur, breath fogging the air whilethey eagerly grabbed their tickets and programs. They looked untouched. Soft. The kind of people who believed violence only existed on stages and screens, neatly choreographed and contained.
They were wrong. I knew the truth.
I followed my cousin inside, coat collar turned up against the cold as if it could hide my displeasure. I'd never been to the ballet before, and I'd never anticipated breaking that streak. Yet here I was, enduring an hour for Eva.
The sound was what hit me first. Music swelled from somewhere deep inside the building. There were strings tuning, clarinets trilling, and a timpani drum playing in a slow, booming rhythm. The sound grew louder while an usher led us to a small grouping of plush seats in a private balcony overlooking the stage, where two glasses of whiskey sat as if waiting for us. I grabbed one of them and downed it whole before gesturing to the attendant for another.
If I was going to spend my evening here, it would at least be with liquor.
The air in this stuffy theater was thick with perfume, polished wood, and anticipation. The dark red carpet looked so soaked with spilled liquor that it was practically a fire hazard. Crystal glasses chimed softly at the bar, and everywhere I looked, there were people. I felt more exposed than I had in years, staring at my little sister’s broken body in the mangled car while people in uniforms swarmed like wasps.
"This is a waste of my time," I muttered, settling into the uncomfortable chair. Where the fuck was my drink?
Nikolai laughed deeply, clapping his hands together once as if we were about to attend a party instead of my personal hell. "Relax. It's culture."
"It's torture."
"Yes, yes," he said, waving me off. "Poor Aleksandr, forced to see one of the most moving art forms with some of the best seats in the house, surrounded by velvet and a server bringing you champagne. What a tragic life."
If you murder him, it will be difficult to clean the chairs,I reminded myself while the beast inside me raged in a storm of fury. "Are you going to tell me why I'm here now? Where is Eva?"
"Patience, Aleksandr. You agreed to one hour. At least wait until closer to the end before bombarding me with questions."
I scowled. "Fine."
The orchestra began to rise, their instruments now playing a sweeping song, growing and growing while the chandeliers slowly dimmed. The curtain was still drawn, but I could now make out faint rustling behind it, the little shadows of shoes coming to the edge as if trying to peek out. People were filling the seats, eagerly leaning forward, their programs rustling. Somewhere below, a woman shushed her children.
