Page 27 of Baby for My Ex's Brother

“Of an empire.”

“Of an organization with good holdings,” he says, and gestures me toward the counter. We proceed to have the strangest conversation of my life over roasted chicken and good bread.

“What does the organization actually do?”

“Freight,” he says, “hotels, the casino, real things that make real money, and beneath them a second ledger, where disputes are settled.”

“Do people get hurt?”

“Sometimes, when they’ve earned it. Usually, punishments are financial—less potential for the law to be involved.”

“What constitutes deserving punishment?”

“Could be a personal offense. Could be harming someone under my protection or doing something stupid in public... The list of potential offenses is long.”

“Should I worry about being here?”

“No.” And then, before I can ask the follow-up, he says with all sincerity, “You are the safest person in this city. I’m not being romantic. I’m describing the security architecture of this building and of my life. If someone fucks with you, as my companion, they are fucking with me. I cannot let that stand.”

The answers don’t worry me the way they’re supposed to. I keep checking, holding each one up, waiting for the cold drop in my stomach, but it doesn’t come.

My whole life, the people everyone warned me about have always been the ones who showed up. Aunt Gerty, the former pornstar. Uncle Fred, the director of some of the most extremehorror films of their era. Cherry Darling, a trans woman with a scarily checkered past.

My sister, Star, hates them all because they’re the people she fears. People who fall outside the lines of society. The weirdos.

But life takes turns. You end up in places you never expected, doing things you never could’ve predicted, for better or worse. I’ve never once been qualified to judge anyone, and I’m not starting tonight with the man who’s been nothing but good to me.

Maybe that should scare me, how easily it all goes down. Maybe the wiser woman, the one with the egg-white routine and the four-year script, would already be in the elevator.

But the wiser woman also spent three years on Hugo because he looked safe on paper? Her judgment is hereby under review. I make a note to interrogate all of it later, with Hairy, in committee, where the real decisions get ratified.

“You’re doing that thing,” Ivan says, across the chicken. “The accounting face. Lower lip.”

“I’m finishing the deliberation.”

“And?”

“Verdict’s in,” I say. “I’m not scared of you. I reserve the right to reopen the case if you ever lie to me, that’s the one condition, lying reopens everything. But tonight, no. Not scared.”

His slight smile tells the story of his relief. “Good.”

10

IVAN

Armin Kazarian has beenmy sovetnik for many years, and in all that time, he’s never opened a meeting with small talk, which is half of why he’s lasted this long. The other half is that he tells me what I don’t want to hear in the same voice he uses for lunch orders, and this morning, the voice is in the door before he is.

“Hugo is maneuvering,” he says, taking the chair across my desk and steepling his fingers. “Pyotr Witte has dined at his home twice this month. Private, family-style, the wives present.”

“And?”

“And Pyotr has begun asking questions around the edges of our organization. Structural questions, succession questions. The questions a man asks about a company he is considering investing in, or acquiring.”

I set down my pen, because this deserves both hands on the desk. “Aside from Hugo, he’s asking whom?”

“Carefully chosen people. Men one circle out from the center, flattered to be asked anything.” Armin’s mouth does its thin line. “And your stepbrother has been doing the seating charts.He’s positioning himself as the modern option, accessible, reasonable, fluent in the century.”

“And me?”