“The bag you tripped over is full of them. But I have got something for you.” Nicki got out of bed and opened the bag. She'd filled it so full that a couple of elephants jumped out when she undid the zipper. She rummaged around and found a small box wrapped in pink paper with a thin ribbon tied around it.
“Thanks,” Lela said as Nicki handed it to her. As Nicki jumped back into bed, Lela noticed how slim she'd become. She'd always thought Nicki was the best-looking woman in their major. In fact, that was an understatement; she was the best-looking woman she had seen at NYU. She lay next to Nicki and began to open her present. “We all missed you terribly,” she said as her fingers fiddled with the knot on the ribbon. “The house hasn't been the same without out. We missed your story telling.” She paused and laughed. “But we didn't miss your garlic lasagna.” Nicki gave her a playful thump. “Oh wow, Nicki. It's too much,” she said as she held up a gold fountain pen.
“You're going to be a journalist, so you'll need a good pen.” Typical Nicki, generous and thoughtful, Lela thought.
“So what's the plan now, once you've unpacked all your elephants?” Lela asked.
“Will you help me? I have so much to tell you about my experiences, and of course I want to know what you've been up to. How many men have you brought back here while I've been away?” she asked playfully.
“Only a handful,” Lela said, lying, unable to count the actual number.
After an hour, Lela couldn't find any more room for the last few two elephants. “Where do you want me to put these? There's no room.”
“Leave them on the bed. I'll find somewhere.”
“Perhaps you could sell some of your Mills and Boon books. You don't need to keep all those trashy romance books, do you?”
“I love them. I don't want to part with them. I split up with Nathan last night.”
Nicki said it suddenly with no warning of any kind, and it shocked Lela. “Why?” she asked in a Sherlock Holmes kind of way.
“Because we aren't compatible. He's too different. He likes to be messy and casual, and I like to be neat and tidy and plan things. I felt sick when I got into his car yesterday. He hasn't cleaned it out in years.”
“But surely a messy car can't be the reason. I thought you guys were the real deal,” Lela said as she picked up a book with a half-naked hero on it.
“No. It's more than that. I realized in Moscow that we aren't right together. I don't love him. I want to feel heat in my lower half when I think of my boyfriend.” Lela nodded in agreement. She'd been out with so many men, and not one of them had set her alight. “All I think of when I think of Nathan is chaos,” Nicki added.
“How did he take it?”
“Badly. He called me some nasty things and dumped me at the door. I guess I deserved it. I said it so suddenly; it must have been a shock for him.”
“You're so intelligent and beautiful. You'll find someone at the drop of a hat.” Lela picked up another book. This time the hero was holding a blond woman who was looking at him as if he'd saved her from certain death. “Look at you. You're tall and thin. Your waist is invisible, and up top you've got a really nice pair. Your ass is the envy of all the girls in the class, and your eyes are stunning. Don't worry. You'll have men flocking to you once they know you're single again.” Suddenly Lela's eyes lit up. “Or have you already got some dark Russian prince?”
“No, I haven't, and can you believe it? I was a very good girl in Russia. Not once did I entertain a man in my chamber.”
“Your chamber? You're definitely reading too many of those ridiculous historical romances. So what are you going to do now? Have you applied to any newspapers yet?”
Oh no, not her as well. Why didn't people understand? She wanted to be a freelancer. “No. Don't you remember? I want to go freelance.”
“But...”
“No buts. I had enough that from Nathan on the way home. He doesn't think I'll be able to make a go of it. He thinks editors won't buy my stories.” Nicki pulled the trunk on her pink elephant and twisted it in frustration. “I'm going to do it. It's very important to me. I want to work for myself, not some ego-inflated editor. And as for them not wanting to buy my stories, I'm going to tackle such daring subjects that they'll be forced to buy from me.”
Lela cocked her head to one side. She had a habit of doing that when she didn't believe what she was being told. “Okay. If it's so important to you, I really hope it works. But where are you going to start? I mean, you need a story. You'll graduate soon, and your student loans will stop.”
“Maxim Sokolov.”
“What? He's a murderer. He killed the judge presiding over his trial. What was his name?” Lela asked.
“Hudson. But he was acquitted. In the eyes of the law, he's not guilty. Simple. But after he came to Brighton Beach, New York, back in the nineties, he set up a vast empire of extortion, drugs, and trafficking. I'm going to write about it.”
“You'll get yourself killed,” Lela said without hesitation. “Do you know how many journalists have been killed by Russians? They are masters at it. As soon as you go sniffing around, he will put an end to you. Don't do it.”