Page 76 of Mistaken
Ella…
“This is bullshit!” Tania is shouting, “Are you fucking with me right now?”
I laugh bitterly, “Oh, no. This antiquated crap is for real.”
We’re sitting on her bed, passing a wine bottle between us. “You know the infuriating part?” I continued, “Mariya wasn’t even surprised. She even told me that she thought ‘Kon was cute.’ What the hell, Tania! That’s what you say about the guy who just asked you to prom, not a lifelong ball and chain to a mobster!”
“This whole Bratva thing was fucked up, but this is a special brand of assholeishness.” Tania says sourly.
Taking the bottle away, I have a gulp before passing it back. “I don’t know what makes me the most upset, that Maksim did this, or that the girls just assume this is their future!”
“Well,” she shrugs, “do they know the true love story of you and Hot Murder Daddy? They probably think this shit is normal.”
“Don’t call him that,” I sigh, finishing the bottle. "You know what I hate the most? Over these weeks, I think I'm getting to understand him a little better. Like... maybe there is some common ground. And then, there's days like this, where he seems so alien to me. Where everything he believes in is just unthinkable." Finishing off the bottle, I hand it to Tania. “You got any more of this stuff?”
“Yeah,” she snickers, “this is from the crate Yuri sent over from Maksim’s wine cellar.”
I’m silent, watching her process this for a moment as her expression goes from gleeful to sad. “For the record, I really like Yuri,” I offer, “but I agree with your decision to step back from this world. Are you doing okay with…” I wave my hands uselessly, “...this?”
She’s heading back into the kitchen, so I lean against the doorway, watching her sort through her wine fridge. “I could have loved him, you know? That dick, I mean…”
“No!” I’m cringing, “no dick talk!”
Tania laughs, but it’s more like a polite chuckle. “I could have. Yuri's smart, suave as hell, and really sweet when he’s not playing BratvaSovietnik. But… I can’t handle this, Els. I just- it’s too much. I can’t be shot at every day. I’ll be your emotional support animal for life, and you’ll be mine. But I can’t be a Bratva wife.”
I put my arm around her and we moved outside to the fire escape, swapping the bottle and watching nighttime in New York City happen on the street beneath us.
“The girls have been here for three weeks? No way!”
Tania’s getting into the SUV with us for the “after party,” as she calls it, we’re taking Ekaterina out for a drink atGehenna.We had to agree to take her to one of Maksim’s clubs before he’d allow her to go out. She’s wearing one of my more modest dresses, but since she’s taller and more blessed in bra cup size, it looks unfairly hot on her. These Morozovs and their spectacular gene pool…
A vision of Maksim lifting up a dark-haired, blue-eyed child suddenly appears in technicolor glory and I shake my head vigorously. Where the hell did that come from?
Tania’s been talking; “So Ekaterina, what’s going on with school? What’s your major?” I’m listening to them and watching my sister-in-law light up when she talks about her major in Special Education.
“There are so many advancements in teaching approaches for… for instance, children on the autism spectrum.” Her lovely face is lighting up, her blue eyes - blue like Maksim’s - are sparkling. The difference between her open, happy gaze and his constant look of polite speculation makes me sad. “...for some little ones, their environment is the worst problem…” She's on a roll now, and her enthusiasm for teaching is so obvious.
“You need to teach,” Tania says emphatically, “it’s so obvious that you are meant to do this. Those kids need you.”
Narrowing my eyes at her, I shake my head slightly. I know what she’s doing. This isn’t the time to spark Ekaterina up. Maksim already stated that she’s going to finish college and get her teaching degree. It’s what happens after, that’s making my stomach churn. But he promised that he would ask her about the match, that he would pick a good man. I had to hope that would be enough.
“Let’s go be the Beautiful People,” I interrupt, “Tania’s the one that perfected that nightclub strut.”
“The Beautiful People nightclub strut?” Ekaterina is laughing helplessly. I squeeze her hand. She’s already one of the beautiful people.
Maybe it’s because nightclubs are just bad juju for me now. Maybe it’s this particular nightclub that has it out for us. Because it starts out the same.Gehenna’son fire tonight; I see a couple of A-list actors in the VIP section - where we promised to stay as another concession so that Maksim would let us take Ekaterina out - and every dance floor is a sea of glittery, swaying people. The three of us dance with each other, our bodyguards a humorless triangle around us to keep any hopefuls from oozing into our little circle within them.
We dance until we’re laughing and sweaty and tumble back into our cozy little couch section in the VIP lounge. There’s already a bottle of Shipwrecked Champagne chilling and waiting for us. Because, Maksim.
“Wait, I remember this!” Tania gasps, “Isn’t this the stuff a bunch of divers found in the Baltic Sea like ten years ago?”
“Yep,” I nod to the bottle, "look how old it is!” All these cases went down with the ship almost 200 years ago, and the cold water apparently kept the champagne intact and in good condition.”
“To sisters and friends, there can never be enough of either!” Ekaterina toasts us, and we clink glasses and take a sip.
“Amazing,” Tania sighs, “how much is this stuff?”
“About $14,000 a bottle,” I answer, and she chokes on her mouthful.
