Esme winked at me, the minx, and closed the door behind her.
“I’m sorry we’ve kept missing each other.”
“You are busy person, Mrs. Nazarov.” His English was a little halting, understandable given the limited time he had spent in the US.
“Call me Lauren. Are you in town visiting Alexei?”
He shrugged. “I am visiting many people. Today I have lunch with Kit Mallinson at Peninsula. I hear it is nice.”
“They have a lovely afternoon tea and a killer chocolate bar.” I shouldn’t have been surprised that my old boss would be zeroing in on Arkady. “If you had told me you were in town, we could have set up something more formal.”
“I have enough meals on my schedule.” He picked up the puck sitting on my desk. “This is special, yes?”
“I won the championship with that puck with the Chicago Athenas ten years ago.”
“You hit shot into top shelf. It was a beauty.” He stared at it for a while, then back up at me. “You have script for new clients?”
“I do, but I imagine you’ve heard it before. You’ve probably heard a few other things, too.”
“Yes, about your … what is the word? Man mistress?”
I laughed, the first time I’d done so in a while. “Man mistress is as good as any.”
“But you are Nazarov’s woman. That is better than client script or man mistress. You have the experience, no?”
I nodded. “I know what it’s like to be courted, when people are throwing money at you, when everyone wants a piece of you. Of course, I never saw the numbers you’re dealing with, but I understand the pressures.”
Another shrug as if the pressures meant nothing. “Alexei says you have Gunnar Bond’s stick.”
I smiled. “Behind you.”
“May I?”
I gestured my permission. It was always fascinating to see superstars becoming total fanboys.
He picked it up and ran a loving hand over it. “He is one of my favorite players. Alexei, also. This seems like … what is it they say? Primeta. A sign.”
I’d had it up my eyeballs with signs. “Signs are all well and good, Arkady, but this is your career we’re talking about. You want someone who is the best fit for you, not someone with a few familial connections in the hockey world and some interesting memorabilia.”
His mouth turned down sulkily. “You do not want to be my agent?”
“Arkady, of course I do.” Was I second-guessing myself here? The events of the last couple of months had whittled away at my self-assurance. “I just want you to base your decision on facts rather than signs.”
“Perhaps you should take me to lunch so I can convince you I am good client.”
“Sure. How long are you in town for?”
“Until tomorrow morning. But there is the chocolate bar at the Peninsula, no? Are you worth canceling for it?”
“Not sure anything is worth that, but I can guarantee you I’m a more interesting lunch companion than Kit Mallinson.”
He placed Gunnar’s stick down carefully. “Then let us go eat.”
Me
Thanks for sending Arkady my way. We had lunch.
Stupid Husband
