“Lyosha, leave her alone, she doesn’t deal with the likes of you,” Elena teased, but gave me a subtle wink.
“Aha, well, I don’t see a ring on her finger.”
I shouldn’t have taken my gloves off.
They were a recent addition to Elena’s circle. Dmitri was quick to buy her things, so he became the primary focus of her time. I’d gone out with them on a couple of occasions, but men like that weren’t interested in getting to know the girls who decorated their dinner tables.
Elena talked a lot about their spacious apartment and how it smelled like a Parisian market. I don’t know how she knew what a Parisian market smelled like, and I don’t think she did either.
The two were Chechens, even if their names weren’t. Brothers,by what I could tell. Maybe second generation, because their accents were very thin.
No one told us where we were going, but I could guess. The New Russians loved the newly remodeled, two-story restaurant that’d taken the place of a historic library in Old Town. As we pulled up, my window lit up with the gold cursive lettering. ‘The Manhattan Club.’
Several chauffeurs leaned against expensive cars out front, smoking and laughing as their employers dined inside. No one seemed concerned about taking up half the road and the entire sidewalk.
Dmitri parked out front, and we piled out of the car. No one opened the door for me, and normally I wouldn’t notice, but I couldn’t help but think of Vitali and the way he never even considered the possibility that I’d ever touch the door handle.
The Manhattan Club was what everyone thought money looked like, with its soft conversational jazz and dim lighting accentuating the thick cigar smoke. If it weren’t so full of roaring swears and mouth-full laughter, one might even call it classy.
Lyosha eagerly spoke to the girl in the pressed dress and immaculately styled hair as she led us to a table.
“Not ashamed to flirt with her in front of us, is he?” Elena whispered to me. “He’s such a dog, but a heart of gold—I promise.”
Somehow, I doubted that.
We were seated at a table by the windows, but by this time it had grown dark and all I could see was my reflection with the background of lamps and loud people raising crystal glasses of expensive cognac. Dmitri ordered a round for the table.
The menu showed the prices in rubles and dollars, but allthat did was remind me of the horrible state of my country. The numbers were absurdly different and the ruble almost worthless. That seemed a good metaphor for the way I sat like a prop in that prestigious restaurant while Maxim was eating cabbage stew at home.
Another reason I didn’t like joining Elena on this sort of outing.
They ordered beef carpaccio and potatoes with truffle oil. That raised my mood and guilted me into feeling like an ungrateful bitch, so I tried my best to join the conversation. I did have to lubricate my attitude with a glass or two of cognac, but in my defense, I had a bad day.
When the plates were mostly cleared two hours later, the men lounged back in their chairs, and the girl brought a dessert menu printed on a small gilded card.
“Well, girls, did you like it? Order whatever your heart desires,” Dmitri said, and Elena smiled and glanced down subtly enough to seem like she’d waved off the offer.
‘Oh no, I couldn’t possibly,’her expression said, but her liquor-glazed eyes landed on the tiramisu.
“You know where I had the best carpaccio?” Lyosha said, smugly showing his teeth in what could pass as a smile to someone who’d never seen a smile before. “In London. It was‘New York’style. Nowhere else does it so good—nowhere. This is garbage.” He mimed a spit. “Ever been to London, Katya?”
“What a great idea!” Elena cut in as I opened my mouth to answer. “We should go to London. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
“I’ve always wanted to see England,” I agreed. Her answer was far more diplomatic than the one I wanted to give.
“We will all go,” Dmitri said with a jovial slap to his knee. “In the spring—it’smrazin the winter. Nothing but rain.”
Somewhere far away, Rick Kelli sang‘It seems we’ve come to the conclusion of the night.’
“I’d hate to miss work,” I said dryly, swirling the thick alcohol around in my glass. The night already inspired too much drinking, and I needed to slow down.
“Women shouldn’t have to work,” Lyosha said, slapping the tablecloth. “My woman would never work. How do you like that, Katya?”
“I think she’d like that,” Dmitri said.
“I’m not your woman, so I suppose we’ll never find out my feelings on the matter,” I said with a smile.
“Not yet,” Lyosha promised, and the revulsion tightened in my chest. “But you let me take you out—just you and I, you’ll see what a nice guy I am. I bet we have a lot in common.”
