“No. It’s supposed to be less hidden.” She reached into her apron and pulled out a folded receipt. A number was writtenacross the paper in black pen. “A girl I knew used this contact when her father owed. She left Brooklyn after. I don’t know where she went, and I don’t know if she was okay.”
I stared at the receipt.
Tamar’s lower lip trembled once before she pressed it flat. “Throw it away if you can. I hope you can.”
I took it because not taking it felt like pretending I still had clean choices.
The service corridor smelled like bleach, fryer oil, and rain from the rear entrance. Fluorescent light buzzed overhead. Someone had propped a crate against the wall beside the mop sink. I stepped around it, one hand on my bag strap.
Gennady moved out from the shadow near the rear office.
I stopped so fast my heel scraped the tile.
He’d taken off his overcoat. His gray suit seemed darker in the service corridor, stripped of velvet and amber light. His remaining man stood near the end of the hall, not close enough to touch me, close enough to block the cleanest path.
“You’re leaving without saying good night?” Gennady asked.
“I said good night to the table.”
“I’m not a table.”
“No,” I said. “Tables don’t corner women by the staff exit.”
His face changed. Not much. Just enough to show the wet, mean thing under the polish.
“You think this sharp mouth helps you?” he asked.
I shifted my bag strap higher on my shoulder. “I think I’m tired and I’m going home.”
“You should think about your brother.”
The radiator pipe along the wall gave a hollow tick. My pulse filled the space after it.
“I do,” I said. “Every day.”
“Then you should think better.” Gennady stepped closer. “Petya came into a room where men use real money. He playedwith money that wasn’t his. He smiled, he promised, he lost, and now he hides behind his sister’s skirt.”
“He’s trying to pay.”
“He’s trying to breathe.” Gennady studied my uniform. “I decide how long he keeps doing that.”
My fingers tightened on my bag strap until the seam cut into my palm. “Tell me the number and the date. I’ll deal with it.”
“You’ve been dealing with it so well.”
“Tell me.”
His smile returned, slower this time. “Three days.”
The corridor narrowed around the words.
“No,” I said. “He said two weeks.”
“Petya says many things. Most of them are stupid.” Gennady moved another step closer. “Three days, Nadia. Then the balance doubles, or your brother comes with my men and learns what happens when men sign markers they can’t cover.”
“He doesn’t have double.”
“I know.” His voice dropped. “That’s why I’m speaking to the useful Yelchin.”
