“Drink first. Business later,” he answers coming back to me with the drinks.
“That’s a terrible order to do business in,” I answer, ignoring the drink he’s extending toward me. “Business now, so I know what I’m doing here.”
“You are stubborn,” he notes. “This will be fun.”
“Maybe for you,” I answer.
“For both of us,” he says. Then he takes a step closer. Way, way too close. “This is my promise.”
My belly flips all the way over at that promise. And his proximity.
“You should take the drink. Let it calm you before our talk,” he says, holding up the glass again.
I take the drink from him. But only to set it down next to the chessboard, before demanding, “Why am I here? What is going on?”
He sighs with another half-smile, like I’m somehow disappointing and amusing him at the same time. “Okay, we do this your way, krasotka.”
He sets his drink down on the opposite side of the chessboard. “Your brother misrepresented to us his ability to enter into high stakes gameplay. And now he owes me money. Money he says he cannot pay.”
I blink. I mean, no surprise there.
Clem is going through a messy divorce right now, which is why he came to stay with me after the last football season ended, instead of going home to his wife and kids. According to him, Natalie not only tied up all his assets but is also demanding five-figures in child support.
With as much as he makes for the NFL, he should be able to pay that amount easily, but unfortunately, most of my brother’s money gets eaten up by his poor choices and bad habits. He goes to Vegas at least four times a year to gamble, and he insists I’m just “a hater” whenever I point out that the house always wins. Gambling losses are another reason he’s staying with me as opposed to getting his own apartment.
I can just see him telling himself that this high stakes card game was a sure bet and spinning dreams of how he’d cover all his child support and have enough money to move out of my condo with all of its boring rules.
“How much does he owe you?” I ask, already running calculations.
After Clem got his football contract, I badgered and badgered him until he finally relented to let me manage his money. I put him on an allowance, and though he lives a ridiculously extravagant lifestyle, after all his bills are paid, I managed to set a few funds aside in a higher interest savings account that I labeled “Save Clem.”
Sadly, this isn’t the first time I’ve had to access the “Save Clem” money to get my brother out of trouble. He’s been asking to borrow from it for some supposed investment opportunities ever since he moved in. Luckily I said no because as of now that account’s accumulated nearly thirty thousand dollars.
I’d been planning on giving the money to Natalie if Clem didn’t find a way to pay his child support before that, but I’d be willing to pay some of that toward this if it meant getting my brother out of danger.
“Three hundred thousand dollars,” the Russian answers.
I’m glad I refused to take the drink. If I had, it would be flying from my mouth right now.
“He lost that much in one poker hand?”
Cheslav shrugs. “It is not called high-stakes for nothing. And I always bet big, not little.”
I shake my head. “I can’t…I can’t pay that. That’s worth more than my house.”
“I believe you are making wrong comparison here.” Cheslav steps closer to me. His demeanor going from amused to menacing in a hot second. “Is that amount worth more than your brother’s life? That is the real question you should be asking.”
Horror ices through me, and I struggle to show a calm composure. “You’d kill him? Over money? I mean, you’re a hockey player. Killing people who owe you money can’t be a good look.”
“You are correct, I am merely a hockey player,” he agrees with a cool nod. “But I am also a man with a certain reputation. These games of mine…they are extremely exclusive. Trust is very necessary. Yet, your brother slipped past my background check. So will I kill him?”
Cheslav casts his eyes to the side as if honestly considering my question. “No, of course, I will not do that. But a month from now, will he suffer an unfortunate accident that ends his career and makes it so he cannot walk for the rest of his life—one that the authorities will assure you has nothing to do with me?”
He shrugs again, but lets me know, “That is for certain.”
For a moment. For several moments, I am unable to speak. Fear crawls up my spine, while I grasp for my voice.
But I’m still the same Billie who scraped up enough money to get her brother the rest of the way through college and changed her life for the better.
