“Yer, real estate deals. And who gave you the first piece of real estate?”
“You.” This was what he always did. Whenever he disliked something Andrey did, he'd call him in and remind him that it was he who had given Andrey a property to get him going. Sokolov was also from St. Petersburg, and when he'd bumped into Andrey, they'd chatted about the city. Sokolov had been impressed by Andrey's physique and had given him a job as one of his rent collectors. Some of the things Andrey had done, he was not proud of. Evicting men and women with young children had never been his thing, but he'd done it. He'd seen Sokolov's real estate gift to him as justified payment for the sleepless nights he was still having.
“Me indeed.” Sokolov looked at the fire for a while and then jumped up and took Andrey by the throat. “What the fuck were you doing screwing that black journalist in my restaurant the other evening?”
“It was just that, a screw, so what's your problem?” Andrey thought he was strong enough to push Sokolov from him, but he wasn't sure he could beat him in the boxing match that was bound to ensue if he did so.
“My problem is twofold. First, she's a journalist, and second, she's black. I don't want a person like that snooping around in my life. If I see her again, she's a goner. Got it?”
“So what if she's black, you racist pig? She's hotter than any slut you've ever had.” Andrey fell back onto the sofa as Sokolov landed an upper cut to his chin.
*****
Nicki stood outside the Crab and Lobster for half an hour before she got up the courage to go inside. Mel looked at her and turned away.
“Mel, is Andrey here?”
Mel had nothing against Nicki, but she didn't need another confrontation with Sokolov, and she was scared he would do worse than tear her blouse next time. “Upstairs, but leave now. You're not welcome here.”
“I need to speak to him. It's important.”
Mel turned to her. When she saw Nicki's face, feminine intuition told her why Nicki had come to the restaurant, and she felt sorry for her. “You know the way,” Mel said, pointing to the stairs.
Nicki knocked on the apartment door and turned the door handle. When the door opened slightly, she saw him lying on the bed. “Andrey.”
When he looked over at her, she saw he had two back eyes and a lump on his chin. He jumped off the bed and ushered her inside. “What are you doing here? It's too dangerous for you to be here now.”
“Why?” Nicki didn’t understand. It had only been a few nights ago that she’d been here. Andrey didn't reply. “Andrey, I need your help. I'm pregnant.”
“You've got to leave. I don't want to see you anymore.”
“Did you hear me? I'm pregnant,” Nicki sobbed.
“I heard you. Now go or I'll carry you out of here.”
“But you can't treat me like this.” Her sobs became stronger. “We had...such a lovely time...I know you...care about me.” She put her hand on his shoulder, trying to pull herself to him.
“No, Nicki, I don't want you. I'm not interested in you or your baby. Now go. I won't ask you again.”
This couldn’t be happening. Three weeks ago everything had been fine; now her life had become a living hell. Her tears went, replaced by anger. “How can you do this, you heartless bastard? You could at the very least offer to help me look after the child financially.”
He took hold of her by her coat, marched her to the door, and pushed her through it. She heard it close and the lock turn. When Andrey lay back on the bed, he put his hands over his ears to block out the echoes of Nicki's sobs as she went down the stairs.
Before Nicki left the stairwell, she wrote a note. When she went through the restaurant, she handed it to Mel. “Give him this, will you?” she said.
*****
Betty's tea room wasn't busy. Nicki counted four people: two elderly ladies deep in conversation, a young mother struggling to keep her toddler quiet, and a man in a business suit. Betty's was the premier tea room in New York, and it was usually impossible to get a table. Nicki wondered what she was doing in such an expensive place. She had precious little money and not much prospect of getting any in the near future.
Nathan came in through the main entrance and looked around for her. When he spotted her, he smiled and wandered over to the table in his usual casual manner.
“Can't stay away from me,” he said hopefully.
“Nathe, I called you because I need your help.” She knew it was a liability, contacting him after she had dumped him, but she was getting desperate.
“Sure, anything.” He smiled. He took her hand, but she pulled back.
“I'm pregnant, Nathan. I'm pregnant, and I really need a favor.”
“You're what?” Now there was no chance they would ever get back together. “So why the hell did you call me and not the father?”
Nicki avoided his gaze. “He doesn't want to have anything to do with me.”