“You mean to tell me,” Sasha said, gripping his too expensive to-go cup of coffee, “that Maryruth spent the night last night and nothing happened.”
“Something happened,” Igor stated. “Just not sex.”
“Why the fuck not? You’ve been chasing this girl for months. I almost hand-deliver her to your door and you didn’t do anything?”
“I’m not a predator,” Igor growled. “I have some manners.”
“I’ve seen the way you treat women. You have no manners. And very little class.”
“Different. I had no desire to marry any of them.”
Sasha stopped walking. Surly Brooklynites flipped him the bird and cursed at him. Sasha appeared not to notice, his gaze intense and focused on Igor.
“Wait just a fucking minute,” Sasha said. “You can’t be serious.”
Igor raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Sasha grasped Igor’s arm and moved him out of the line of traffic. “You don’t even know her.”
“I know her.”
“Yeah, you know she was with some other guy this entire time.”
Igor knew how it looked. But there were some things he wasn’t going to explain. His complex feelings for Maryruth were one of them. “Why did you give her my address?”
“Because I knew you wanted her. I didn’t think it was more than that…”
“Just wait,” Igor said lightly.
“For what?”
“For when a woman comes along, knocks the wind out of you, gets under your skin. There won’t be enough vodka or other women to make your forget her.”
Sasha rolled his eyes. “Doubtful. One woman is pretty much the same as the next.”
Igor laughed, feeling lighter than he had in years. He didn’t know what the future held for him and Maryruth, but he was surprisingly hopeful.
Though he hadn’t touched her last night and she’d slept in the guest room, she’d still been there in the morning. They’d stared at each other over their mugs of coffee, not saying much, not needing to.
Sasha and Igor started walking again. The day had dawned gray and overcast, but the sun was coming out, drying the plants and trees. It already promised to be a very green spring.
Sasha brought him back to reality when he asked, “What are you going to do about Katarina?”
“I don’t know.”
“And Olaf?”
Igor couldn’t think about his father. If Igor didn’t follow through and marry Katarina, Olaf would lose power, lose standing with the Drugovs and the Dolinsky leadership would be tenuous.
“Let’s focus on the matter at hand, shall we?” Igor asked, turning the conversation to the upcoming meeting with the Poles.
Olaf had decided to take Igor’s advice and discuss the possibility of getting in on the ground floor of the Greenpoint real estate market. Properties were cheap because Greenpoint wasn’t as convenient to Manhattan as Williamsburg, which was right over the bridge. But in a few years’ time, when Williamsburg was maxed out, people would be looking to move. By that time, there would hopefully be enough of a transportation infrastructure to support the neighborhood of Greenpoint.
Olaf was sending Sasha and Igor to meet with Aleksy Kowal, the head of the Polish mafia. It wasn’t that Olaf trusted Igor to handle it, but more about the fact that he didn’t trust the Poles. He did business with outsiders only because he had to in order to grow his empire.
Sasha and Igor arrived at a Polish travel agency. The signs and pictures placed in the windows were dated and faded. Sasha opened the front door and Igor stepped inside first. There were three desks, all with old Macintosh computers, a fax/copy machine, and a wealth of florescent lighting.
“Sure we have the right place?” Sasha asked quietly, looking around.
A young woman wearing a black skirt and white button-down shirt entered the room through a back door. She smiled. “Mr. Dolinsky?”
“Da.”
“Right this way,” she said.
They followed her to the door that led to a private room, which was equipped with expensive furniture, a coffee and end table, and a big screen TV. This was where the real business was conducted—the travel agency was just a front.
Aleksy Kowal, a man at least fifteen years older than both Sasha and Igor, stood up from one of the brown leather couches, his black suit jacket unbuttoned. Igor reached out to shake his hand.
“Thank you for coming,” Aleksy said in heavily accented English.
“Thank you for having us,” Igor said, just as polite.
“Can I offer you something to drink? Coffee? Water?”
“Coffee, please,” Igor said and then looked at Sasha.
“Same for me.”
Aleksy nodded at the young woman and then said something in Polish. She left, the door clicking shut.
“Please.” Aleksy gestured to two vacant leather chairs.
Igor and Sasha sat.
“Your trip from Manhattan,” he began. “It was pleasant?”
“We took public transportation,” Igor stated. “And then we spent the morning walking around. I wanted to get a feel for the neighborhood.”
Aleksy smiled. “Did you visit one of Greenpoint’s many bakeries?”
“Not yet,” Igor admitted. “Though I would love a restaurant recommendation for lunch.”
They chatted amiably for a few minutes before the young woman knocked on the door and then entered. She carried a tray with three cups of steaming coffee, cream, sugar, and a plate of baked goods. She set the tray down and then quietly left.
“Try the makowiec,” Aleksy said, gesturing to the poppy-seed cake. “My mother’s recipe.”
Sasha picked up a piece of makowiec and took a bite. “Delicious.”
Aleksy beamed and then turned serious. “Now, let’s discuss business.”
An hour later, Sasha and Igor left the travel agency. Aleksy Kowal drove a hard bargain, but so did Igor. Both parties walked away happy and satisfied.
Sasha walked away with the young woman’s phone number.
“You’re unbelievable,” Igor said with a laugh, following Aleksy’s directions to the restaurant he’d recommended.
“Just trying to build good will between our nations,” Sasha quipped.
Igor shook his head. “You’re buying lunch.”