“I'm not surprised,” he said cruelly. “You're behaving like a whore, limping from one man to the next.”
Nicki tried to ignore his words. “Can you help me get a job at the Times?”
“You're kidding. Maybe I could have helped you, but now you're pregnant. How do you expect anyone to employ you?” The waitress appeared, carrying a menu. The manner in which he waved her away did little to make her long day any better. “There is no chance. Do you seriously expect to start a job and then a few months later go on pregnancy leave? What boss in his right mind would welcome that?” She nodded and stared out the window at a woman with a stroller. “What happened to your dream of being a freelancer? Did it go down the pan as I told you it would?”
“I’ve written a couple of things that haven't sold. I don't have the energy to chase the big stories. Most mornings I'm hanging over the toilet.”
“Well, you should have thought about that before you went screwing around.” He scowled and drew in a large gulp of air. “Here's what I suggest: You either go home to your parents or you look in the paper for a part-time job until the baby is born. I've noticed there's plenty of jobs for office cleaners. Good-bye, Nicki.” When he got up, her eyes followed him to the door. When he was no longer in sight, she felt empty as never before.
*****
When Andrey saw Sokolov, he wanted to kill him. His treatment of both him and Mel had been arrogant and brutal, and it was time to teach him a lesson.
“Andrey, my boy, have you come to apologize?”
“No. I've come to tell you that you are a two-bit piece of shit. You're nothing but a lowlife whore fucker.”
Sokolov flew into a rage. He got up and tried to grab Andrey, but he was too fast, and Andrey dodged the heavier man. Andrey continued to goad him.
“All you've done with your life is threaten and rob people.”
Sokolov was now at one side of the sofa, Andrey at the other. They played cat and mouse around the sofa for a few seconds before Andrey spoke again.
“You've never done half the things attributed to you. Everyone thinks you're a tough guy. You're not. You're a pussy.”
Sokolov was now beside himself. He jumped over the sofa and caught Andrey by his T-shirt. Andrey pulled away, hard, leaving Sokolov holding the shirt. “I've done more with my life than you will ever do. Who do you think you are? I'm gonna kill you,” Sokolov shouted. One of his bodyguards appeared, but Sokolov held up his hand. “Leave this to me.”
“You're just a showoff, leaving everyone to think that you killed Judge Hudson but got away with it. Why don't you ever deny it? Everybody knows the jury was right. You haven't got the balls to kill anybody.”
“I killed Judge Hudson, just like I'm gonna kill you.”
“You didn't. You're a liar and a cheat. I've never met anybody so full of bullshit.”
“I tell you, I killed him with this gun.” Sokolov walked over to a cabinet and opened the drawer. When he pulled out a Magnum, he pointed it at Andrey. Andrey put his hands up and stood still.
“Bring him over here,” Sokolov said to the bodyguard. The bodyguard took hold of Andrey and brought him closer to Sokolov. Sokolov hit him in the stomach as hard as he could. Andrey fell to the floor and curled up. “Lift him up,” Sokolov ordered. He hit him again in the same place, and again Andrey fell. This time Sokolov kicked him—on the back, in the face, and on the ribs. The bodyguard cowered away at the sickening noises Andrey was making. When Sokolov was out of breath, he looked at the bodyguard. “Take him and dump him next to the freeway,” he said.
*****
Nicki was lying on her bed, considering what she should tell her parents. Her cell phone rang.
“Hello, is this Nicki?” the man said.
“Yes, that's me.”
“My name is Sergeant Jonathon Greaves from the New York Police Department. I was wondering if you could help me.”
“Er...sure. I will if I can, but I haven't done anything wrong.”
“No, I'm sure you haven't. It's just that we found a man lying by the side of the freeway, very badly beaten. When we checked his clothing, we found a note with your name on it.” Nicki put her hand to her mouth. “It says, quote, 'Dear Andrey, I am sorry I have disappointed you. If you ever change your mind, please call me. I will always wait for you,' and then your telephone number.”
“Oh my God, is he dead?” she asked fearfully.
“No, but he's in intensive care. Who is he?”
“He's a man I met at a restaurant in New York,” she said, lying. “We had a good time and then had a bit of an argument. I liked him, so I left him a note. Can I go and see him?”
“Sure, but I warn you, he's a mess.”
*****