Chapter 9
9
J AMES
Abby’s phone rings on Thursday instead of Wednesday.
Regardless of what she said about her work, there were no incoming calls these past few days.
I’m having dinner in my suite at Belmond Grand Hotel Europe in St. Petersburg when her phone goes off.
I snatch it from the table and answer the call.
“Yes.”
A few moments pass before whoever has called Abby’s number hangs up on me.
I set the cell down, waiting.
It rings again.
I pick it up and take the call but keep my mouth shut this time.
The voice of a man echoes at the other end of the line.
“Abby?”
The fucker even sounds like me.
I let him talk again.
“Abby? Can you hear me?”
“Abby is not here. She gave me her cell phone to talk to you.”
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Take a fucking guess.”
He ponders for a moment.
“Is she okay?”
“She’s fucking peachy.”
“What do you want?”
“To drop your British accent.”
He goes quiet again.
“Who the fuck are you, man?” he blurts with an American accent this time, even more intrigued.
“The man who owns your life.”
He laughs.
“Are you one of the men who work for the brothers?”
“Am I? Use your fucking brain, kid.”
A few empty seconds go by.
“Listen... I don’t have time for this,” he says, about to hang up.
“Fine. Go the fuck away and rot in fucking hell, fighting for the Russian mob. And maybe next time you run away from them because you didn’t pay their cut, they’ll put a bullet in your head.”
“It’s not their fucking money.”
“Of course it isn’t, stupid kid.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Stop acting like that.”
He laughs like the spoiled brat that he is.
“Is this a joke?”
“You tell me.”
He muses.
“If you’re not one of them, who are you?”
“I’m a debt collector.”
“What money are you talking about?”
“The half mil you owe to the Azarian Brothers. I bought your debt from them.”
“It wasn’t their money.”
“Don’t waste my fucking time. It was theirs as much as it would be the Russian mobsters’ if you fought for them.”
“How do you know all this?”
“I have a crystal ball in my hotel room.”
“Motherfucker.”
“You don’t know shit yet.”
“I don’t owe you anything.”
“You owe me your fucking life. You think you're so smart running a business, yet you have no idea how to run it. Do you want to make money? Then use your brain, not your fists, and make some money.”
“Fuck you. I know how to run my fucking business.”
“Oh, yeah... Well, if you’re so damn good, why are you in hiding now. You can’t even use your fucking money. And don’t tell me that fighting for your new bosses is better. You know it’s not. And you’ll end up pretty much the same, if not worse. You play a game you have no idea how to play, kid.”
He stays silent for a moment.
“What do you want from me?”
“I want you to come back home.”
“No fucking way.”
“Meet me at the Belmond Grand Hotel Europe in an hour. My man will wait for you in the lobby and take you to me. If you accept my offer, you’ll fly back with me tonight.”
“Where?”
“Monaco.”
“And if I don’t?”
“You stay here, and sooner or later, you’ll become indebted to the Russian mobsters while I collect my money from your friend, Abby Newtown.”
“She doesn’t know where the money is.”
“Of course, she doesn’t. But she has it.”
“How the hell do you know that?”
“It’s a no-brainer, kid. There’s no other reason you keep in touch with that woman.”
“And you know that because?”
“Because you don’t give a crap about anyone else other than yourself while she screwed up her life to be with you.”
“That’s your opinion.”
“And you’re free not to believe it, but I’m sure you will believe me when I leave with your money.”
“What happens with my money if I come with you?”
“I’ll tell you when you get here.”
With that, I hang up.
I make a few phone calls and send several messages before calling Thomas and giving him instructions to make sure the airplane is ready as I pack up my stuff.
The phone rings again.
“Hi, Theresa.”
“I got your message.”
“I found your boy.”
“Is he okay?”
“Yeah. ”
“Is he coming?”
“He has to.”
“You don’t know yet.”
“I’m meeting him in half an hour.”
“Watch out. He’s stubborn.”
“Yeah, I got that,” I say, putting a new set of clothes on me.
Someone knocks on the door.
“Give me a second,” I say before tilting my head and swinging my gaze to the door.
“Come in.”
The bellboy fills the doorframe.
“I’m here to pick up your suitcase, sir.”
“Sure,” I say, motioning to my travel gear.
Smoothly, he picks it up and pulls away before vanishing out the door.
“He’ll come. I’ll take him with me to Monaco. If things go as planned, I might need to go with him to London to close his business. He can no longer fight in that circuit.”
“He won’t like that.”
“He has no choice.”
“You don’t know him. He doesn’t give a damn about what he can or can’t do.”
“Oh. I got that already––trust me––but do you know what he’ll hate even more than not being able to fight anymore? My face.”
She doesn’t say a word.
“So why exactly didn’t you tell him about me? I still have a hard time wrapping my mind around it,” I say, edging closer to the window and lowering my gaze to the street.
She sighs.
“Well… His father had always been jealous of my past. He thought he couldn’t offer me the lifestyle I was used to, and no matter what he did, he couldn’t measure up to your father. Moving away, we hoped for a fresh start, and he was thrilled that we’d have a son, but it was still not enough in his mind, so he decided to keep my past a secret and never talk to Tiago about you.”
“That must be the real reason you didn’t want to have anything to do with me.”
“I tried to do everything I could not to hurt people more than I already had. It didn’t seem like a good idea to mess with everybody’s lives. And after Diego left me, I didn’t know how to tell Tiago about you.”
“You used the same excuse with me.”
“What’s your point, James?” she tosses at me, slightly irritated.
“You don’t seem to learn. Do I need to teach you this? There’s no way you can remove this shit from your life. You have to own it.”
“You’re right. But you’ve asked a question, and I’m trying to relay to you how things were. As I said, I know I’ve made mistakes, and pointing to them won’t make them disappear.”
“Okay. Go on.”
“So, yes. That’s what it was. I barely kept him from running away from home. He was angry with me because he worshiped Diego and thought the dissolution of my marriage was entirely my fault. Revealing my past and making him aware of another failed marriage would’ve only cemented the idea that I was a bad mother and a terrible wife. Later, he hated his father, but his feelings about me never changed. Had they changed, he wouldn’t have behaved like he did.”
“He sounds like a real gem.”
She doesn’t comment.
“By behaving the way he did, you mean… anything involving the police?”
“No. The usual stuff. He got into fights.”
“Go figure.”
“He couldn’t make any friends.”
“That’s a big surprise too.”
“A couple of women threatened to kill themselves after hooking up with him.”
“I didn’t see that coming,” I murmur sarcastically. “About the women...”
“He never had a girlfriend either.”
“There was a woman... His teacher.”
“Yes. I know about the teacher. She helped him in school before becoming some sort of friend with benefits. I don’t know more than that, but I think the poor woman got smitten with him and fought hard to suppress her feelings for him. I don’t think she succeeded. One thing was for sure. She was not what she thought she was for him. He always had a few other female friends, and things weren't different when he was with her.”
“She quit her job when he graduated.”
“I heard that, but I didn’t believe the rumor. I couldn’t believe a mature woman would do something so stupid.”
“Well. Apparently, she did and also followed him in London.”
She stays silent.
“I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sure she could’ve done better than that. Why are you asking me all this anyway?”
“I want to know who his loyalty lies with and if he has a weakness.”
“Sadly, he doesn’t. The only thing he’s loyal to is his money. Other than that, he has no problem using other people. Men, women. It doesn’t matter. Under no circumstances can he be trusted, and there’s nothing he believes in either. Other than money, of course.”
“Why couldn’t he make his money any other way?”
“He’s impulsive and has a problem with authority. Besides, the job or business responsibilities would drive him crazy. I gave up trying to convince him he could do better things than fighting for money. I hope it’s only a phase, but I’m not so sure. And as bad as this is, I’m surprised it hasn’t been worse.”
I check the time.
“Okay. I need to go now. I’ll call you when I get to Monte Carlo.”
With that, I hang up and walk out of the hotel suite.