“Girl. Why not? We talked about it last night.”
“Yeah, but…I need a sponsor.”
I can almost hear her shrug. “If Andrej won’t do it, I will. I don’t carry as much weight as him—yet—but it will be worth something. Fill it out. Submit it. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Well, the worst that could happen? My mind starts filling in scenarios. I could be rejected, for one. Or, I could be forced to see Andrej constantly after just swearing him off. But if I stop to really think about it, maybe it makes sense. Between the Turgenev Building and a potential membership at the Oakwood Club, it feels like a step in the right direction—for me and for my company. And if Andrej feels like joining me, this time, he’s going to have to step up.
Chapter Eleven
Andrej
Since the changes at the Club—meaning since he let Evangeline into the Oakwood Club—Losev has started convening monthly meetings to discuss membership applications and other initiatives. Usually, I avoid them like the plague, but when I got a frantic phone call from Losev that he was headed to the hospital with Evangeline and he needed someone to fill in for him, I dragged myself to the Club.
The rest of the Oakwood Boys are already in the Lounge when I arrive, as well as some of the newer members of the opposite sex. Oakwood Girls, I guess? Oakwood People now? Is that the PC way of saying it? Like I give a shit.
An attendant opens a door off to the side and we file into the conference room. Everyone seems to be in good spirits, but it isn’t contagious. As I pass the attendant, I ask for a scotch on the rocks.
“What brand, sir?”
“I don’t care as long as it gets me drunk.” It’s the best way I know to stop feeling. Ever since that night with Valya, my emotions have been all over the place. Being with Valya felt better than making a billion-dollar deal. And with the way I left her, I don’t know if I’ll ever have that feeling again.
There’s a stack of papers at the head of the table that I assume Losev had couriered over. I sit in front of them and start sifting through them when one catches my eye. My scotch arrives just in time, and I take a long sip, savoring the burn of the liquor as it warms my insides.
Theo Latsis saunters in with his sidekick, Damien West. Where Theo is cocky, arrogant, and carefree, Damien is stern and quiet, constantly on his guard. Along with Losev, the four of us were a force to be reckoned with in school, and still are some of the most powerful men in the city to this day.
Theo clamps a hand on my shoulder. “Starting early?”
I glance at my Rolex. “We’re right on time, actually.”
With a laugh, he clarifies, “I meant the drinking.”
I look at my half-drained glass. “Some days call for it.”
He sits in the chair beside me and signals to the attendant. “Right? Hard to believe Losev is going to be a dad.”
That’s not what I meant, but I don’t bother to correct him. Instead, I stare at the application in front of me. Valya Strakova. Sponsored by Losev Turgenev. Probably because Evangeline hasn’t been a member in good standing long enough to sponsor new applicants.
Theo snatches the paper and flips through it. He grunts. “Kind of a small fish, isn’t she?”
Before I can take it back, he passes it to the person beside him, Ben Talbot. He competes with me sometimes for the biggest asshole award. He scowls at the application. “I thought that the inclusion of women didn’t mean we would be lowering our standards.”
“Losev is sponsoring her, though,” Theo offers.
“That doesn’t make her a good candidate,” someone else chimes in. I don’t see who because I’m too busy fuming into my now empty scotch glass.
There’s this ball of rage swirling in my gut, and I don’t know who to direct it at. The men in this room for talking about Valya the way they are? They aren’t saying anything I haven’t thought of myself.
Valya herself for applying and subjecting herself to their scrutiny? She’s a better person than all of us combined. Her sweetness, her integrity, her constant support, even when I acted like a bastard toward her. Just because she doesn’t have old money doesn’t mean she deserves to be dismissed.
Or maybe I’m angry at myself for not standing up for her.
Why can’t I seem to stop myself from being exactly what my father created me to be? Am I really that big of a fuck-up that I would choose my asshole father’s legacy over being happy with a good woman who actually cares about me? Who makes me feel things I never thought I’d feel?
Could I be that boy that Valya still sees when she looks at me? I don’t know—but I think I want to try. For her.
With that decision made, I get up and stalk out of the room. I’m already on the phone with Valor Cleaning Services before I reach my car.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Strakova isn’t in today. May I take a message?” asks the saccharine sweet voice on the other end of the line.
As I slide into my car, I snap, “No, but you can tell me where the fuck she is.”
There’s silence, like the woman is composing herself. “As I said, I cannot give you that information, but I’d be glad to take a message.”
I hang up on her, and as I turn my car onto the highway that runs through Oakwood City, I call her cell phone, but it goes straight to voicemail. Then, I dial my last resort.
“Hello?” Peter Strakova answers.
I introduce myself and tell him I’m looking for his daughter.
There’s a long silence, and then he says, “I don’t know where she is, but if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
I bite back my first inclination to lash out at him, and instead say, “That’s fair, but for what it’s worth, I’m looking for her because…well, to make amends, I suppose.”
Peter sighs. “I’m glad, son, but you have a lot of work to do before you’ll be worthy of her. It’s not as easy as telling her you’re sorry.”
“I know!” I shout, banging my hand on the steering wheel. Then, quieter, I add, “I’m trying. For the first time in my life, I’m fucking trying.”
“Well, then I wish you luck, but I also wish my daughter happiness, and that will always come first.”
Begrudgingly, I say goodbye and end the call with Peter. Fuck. I don’t know how to do this. She’s the only person I ever wanted to try for, and I’m screwing it up.
I take the exit for Sugar Hill and find Valya’s apartment complex. It’s small and simple, with lots of minivans in the parking lot and a playground. I circle the parking lot, but her tiny Kia is nowhere to be seen.
I only have one more idea before I give up. I get back on the highway and travel downtown to the hospital. After parking, which takes an inordinately long amount of time, I find the maternity ward and check in with the front desk.
“Turgenev?” the nurse asks, studying the computer screen in front of her. “Oh, here we are.” She prints out a sticker with my name and Evangeline’s name on it.
I look at it with disgust, but she won’t open the doors until I put it on, so I stick it to the lapel of my jacket with every intention of removing it immediately. The doors buzz and swing open automatically, and I follow the hall until I reach the right room.