Chapter 9
D exter felt strangely upbeat when he went to work later that morning. Despite the fact that he was functioning on three hours of sleep and coffee, his mood was bright, his mind clear.
And then he arrived at work and found all the Popovs, minus Sonya, waiting for him in the conference room.
“Dexter, we need to talk,” Mrs. Popov announced.
She was the second most terrifying Popov, with a lot of Sonya’s authoritative instability, minus any of the sex appeal. She looked so much like a Babushka that Dexter always pictured her in loose baggy clothes and a head scarf, even though in reality she dressed fashionably, minus the fact that all her clothes were off-brand knockoffs. Currently her shirt was embroidered with little Gucki symbols, confusing Dexter for a moment. If one was trying to pass something off as authentic Gucci, why display the misspelled symbol for all to see? There were no easy questions with the Popovs, and similarly no easy answers.
Dexter waited to speak until he’d fixed himself another cup of coffee, his fourth. At this rate he’d be able to see through walls soon. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t drink anymore today, jittery as he already was from the insomnia and rush of caffeine. But dealing with so many Popovs required an extra jolt.
“Yes,” he said, sitting in the middle of the conference table across from Mrs. Popov. In fact he was across from all the Popovs. The parents sat in the middle of the large table, two boys on each side flanking them like a bird of prey. Despite that, Dexter wasn’t nervous. Maybe he should be but something in him short circuited long ago when it came to dealing with The Russians.
“You owe us an explanation for last night,” Mrs. Popov said, her accent thick and demanding, expression stern.
“I’m not certain what you mean,” Dexter said.
She tossed her hands in frustration, causing all four of her sons to jump out of their sleepy stupors. “Last night. How did my sons wind up at that bar? You are supposed to be watching them. We pay you to watch them. Good money, Dexter. Don’t pretend it’s not.” Here she jutted a finger toward his face.
“Mrs. Popov, you do pay me good money. I have no complaints about my salary. But I think our definitions of my job are different. I am your business manager. I procure clients and oversee day-to-day operations with those clients. Trying to keep your four grown sons in line is an extra pain on top of all my other responsibilities.”
“I do not understand this insubordination,” Mrs. Popov said, smacking her palm on the table, making her sons jump again. Seemingly the only women on Earth they feared were their mother and sister, both with good reason. “You know you are supposed to keep eye on them. If not you, who?”
Dexter made a slow survey of each brother, each at least two hundred pounds and over thirty years old. “Maybe they could look after themselves?” Dexter suggested.
Mrs. Popov snorted and waved her hand. “Impossible. They are, by far, too stupid. Let me be clear, this is why we pay you. To be the smart one. I do not want a repeat of last night or else. Are we clear?”
Dexter stared unblinking. It was an empty threat, he knew. No one else had the stomach to try and corral the Popovs. He sighed. “We’re clear.”
“Good,” she said with a satisfied nod. She stood to go but Yuri spoke.
“Wait, wait, wait. We have to talk about the party.”
His parents and Dexter turned in slow motion to survey him.
“What party?” Dexter asked, unable to mask his longsuffering tone.
“Yes, what party?” his mother echoed.
“The party for Dexter. For congratulations. He is getting married, Mama,” Yuri said, beaming as everyone turned their attention to Dexter.
“No, I am not,” Dexter said slowly.
“But you said…” Maxim added helpfully.
“Last night,” Andrei continued where his brother left off.
“You told The Bristol you were getting married to Cherry Girl,” Ivan finished, beaming.
Dexter stared at them, blinking, wondering how they’d survived this long, being this stupid. “I made that up.”
Andrei’s smile fell. “Made up? But why?”
Dexter surveyed their faces again to make certain they weren’t joking. They were not, if their wounded, shocked expressions were any indication. “It was the only excuse I could think of on the spot, to explain to The Bristol why you were there disrupting his bar after he explicitly forbid any hint of scandal. ”
“Oh,” Yuri said, nodding. “Also uh-oh .”
There was a part of Dexter that didn’t want to ask. He wanted to set down his coffee and return to a sane world, one that existed outside this office. In comparison even Lainey and her middle-of-the night chocolate making seemed normal. But, as Mrs. Popov so helpfully pointed out, that wasn’t what he was paid for. So he took a bracing breath and made himself say, “What?”
Yuri cleared his throat, tossing his brothers a look that was clearly a plea for help. “You see,” Andrei began. “We thought since you were marrying cherry girl, would be excellent time for party, yes?”
“And then…” Dexter prompted. Long experience told him they had only scraped the surface of the coming horror.
Andrei threw Maxim the conversational ball. “And then we invited everyone on client list to giant wedding party.”
Mrs. Popov gasped, saving Dexter the trouble. She exclaimed something in Russian. Dexter had no idea what it was, but if the hangdog expression her sons assumed was any indication, it hadn’t been a maternal endearment.
“But, Mama, is Dexter wedding, is celebration. Plus is party. Always good time for party, to show clients we are important and fun.” Yuri held up his flexed bicep.
“Yes, fun,” Andrei agreed, clapping. “I will do Cossack dance!”
The other brothers began clapping along. Dexter pressed his thumb to the middle of his forehead, trying to hold his brain in so it didn’t explode.
“Fix it,” Mrs. Popov said. When Dexter forced his eyes open, she was pointing at him.
“Let me recap, if I may. They showed up at The Bristol, creating a giant mess you dispatched me to clean up. While attempting to clean it up, I lied my face off, pretending to be engaged. And then they created a new mess by inviting everyone on the client list to a party for an event that doesn’t exist. And now you want me to clean up that mess, too?”
“Is good recap,” Mr. Popov said, nodding.
“See? He is smart one,” Mrs. Popov agreed. To Dexter she added, “Yes. Fix it or you’re fired.”
“Maybe we call Sonya,” Andrei suggested tentatively.
“No,” Dexter practically yelled. By now his headache was a full-blown migraine. Between the sleepless night and the work nightmare, the last thing he needed was Sonya’s terrifying form of flirting.
“Good, then we are done,” Mrs. Popov said. She pushed back from the table, followed by her husband and each of her sons who were now conversing cheerfully with each other in Russian.
Dexter remained in the room staring at nothing, wondering how he was going to fix the current calamity, wondering where it all went wrong.