“Nothing.”
He barely let me out before his wheels spun and threw muddy snow over the car behind him. I scrambled not to fall where the ice bank had grown tall enough it could almost be called‘climbing’when I made it onto the sidewalk.
The line was so long… and so full of beautiful women. But I could bet very few were as determined as me. He couldn’t give me all that and then just leave. How many sets of flowers and to whom did he have Misha deliver every time he left…
My throat tightened. Maybe the other woman was in the country with no phones…
“Blyad,” I choked out, desperately searching the immediate line. Somebody would probably hit me for trying what I was about to try.
I composed myself and marched up to the third group of girls behind the velvet rope closest to the door.
“Girls? I’m sorry girls?” I tried as they chatted among themselves, laughing and stomping foot to foot, trying to get warm.
“What?” one said, finally noticing me. “What do you want?”
“I stepped out for a smoke and can’t get back in,” I tried in a kind of desperation people have when there’s no room on the last bus. “Can I stand in line with you? There are people waiting for me.”
She eyed the heels in my hands and the winter coat thathad gathered snow and clearly hadn’t been taken off anytime recently. I hurried to loosen my scarf as if that’d save my lie. It didn’t.
“Go to hell,” she said, and turned her back to me. The group beside them jeered and my cheeks warmed.
“Hey!” the man by the door barked. “You want to be banned? Get away from the line!”
He strolled over. Big man, wide and built just like Vitali’s guys. Balding, but not yet bald. I braced myself to either cry, or leave then cry, because I wasn’t getting in.
He got close, and his expression changed, lips tightening. I tried to figure out what he was staring at.
It was the necklace, reflecting the New Year’s lights where my scarf had come undone.
“Ah,” he said. “Well. That’s a different story.” He lifted the rope and I ducked through to the chorus of furious ladies yelling after me as the doorman escorted me inside.
The floor had a heartbeat, even behind a set of padded doors just past the coat check.
“Thank you.” I hacked a cough from the oncoming warm air.
“Next time, come in with whoever gave you something as expensive as that,” he said, and not too kindly.
I gave my coat and boots over to the bored-looking lady my mama’s age. She stamped a return ticket while I pulled on my tallest pair of heels. Unfortunately, by now some of the heat had left my chest, and clarity began setting in.
Crazy. I was being crazy. Absolutely insane—Misha even said Vitali goes out with them, but it’s just business. Of course they talked about it because they were all going—God, but I was about to make such a huge mistake and then he’d know what kind of girl I was and I’d never receive red roses again.
And I really was about to make a huge mistake, but I wouldn’t know how big of one until later, and then it would already be too late.
As I reached for the handle, someone on the inside opened the door, and the sound struck me in a physical way. The man waved me in, and I did my best to look like I belonged as I took a dignified step through.
Good posture. You’re a beautiful girl who does this all the time. You’re going to peek at who is inside, maybe get a ‘calm your nerves’ drink and leave, I told myself.
But not vodka. Never vodka.
The thought had Vitali’s voice and the echo Misha’s, and when two possibly-thugs tell you to get something else, you get something else. Maybe gin.
The bass was so loud it was hard to tell what song was playing. It was German, I could tell that much.
The club itself was large, but I thought I could see the far wall. Unfortunately, that wall and every other wall were covered in mirrors that scattered the colorful strobe lights like fireworks. It was festive, but completely disorienting, especially for someone who had already put down a bottle of champagne.
Everyone I passed was either beautiful or visibly rich. Even the air was all money—cigars and designer perfume with a hint of expensive liquor. Just as I wondered if I would find Elena somewhere in the crowd, I spotted Lyosha. I didn’t see Dmitri or her beside him; instead, he was with some rough-looking, bearded men wearing close variations of the same red sports jackets. Suppose the dress code didn’t apply to those whose money came in rolls.
Oh God what if I ran right into Vitali. Or Misha. Or any one of the other guys who would clearly recognize me and know I wasn’tinvited. Stupid Katya.I needed to stop feeding these obsessive thoughts and go home.
