13. Bittersweet Symphony
BITTERSWEET SYMPHONY
“We could—”
“Nyet.”
Audrey huffs. “I don’t speak Russian.”
I pull a pack of cigarettes out of my pocket, extracting one and sticking it in my mouth. “Want one?” I ask around it.
Audrey’s nose wrinkles, answering before her, “No.” She tacks on a, “Thanks,” as my lighter flicks to life, apparently recalling who the fuck I am.
The entire reason we’re trapped in this car together—the entire reason for this godforsaken evening—is because her father is hoping I’ll fuck her. Or, at the very least, I’ll like her enough to elevate my opinion of him.
Audrey sighs, inspecting her nails. “That was so boring.”
I exhale a stream of smoke, bothering to crack a window because Audrey’s nose is wrinkling again. She’s assumed—incorrectly—that my apathy has to do with the performance we just attended.
“I thought it was excellent,” I say coldly.
“The theater was pretty, I guess.” She glances out the window after speaking, giving up on conversation.
The ensuing silence doesn’t improve my dark mood.
This trip was a total success—O’Brien has been dealt with, and our position in Chicago has never been stronger.
Audrey’s father, Samuel Belvedere, is thrilled with and fairly competent in his position as head of the foundation that funnels some of our illegal cash here.
He insisted on having dinner after our meeting, and I should have made up an excuse to leave as soon as he “remembered” he’d already made plans with his daughter.
And I really should have faked an urgent phone call when Samuel announced he’d booked a private box for the symphony’s performance tonight.
I didn’t want there to be any questions about the funds’ legitimacy, so I made the donation to the symphony from the foundation.
Samuel, the indulgent lackey, thought that meant I was a secret fan of classical music.
I roll the window down another inch, allowing the cool breeze to sweep into the moving car. It rained earlier, the scent and dampness evident in the spring air.
This will be my last visit to Chicago. My mother will claim credit for the decision, but it’s a choice I’ve put off for far longer than I should have. This trip—the first time not planning to see Carina—made it too obvious why.
I can’t get her stunned expression out of my mind. The flash of hurt when she saw Audrey clinging to my arm like a barnacle. The way she avoided looking at me after that.
If this were only affecting me, maybe I could justify it for a few more years.
But she deserves more. Deserves better. Not the balding man who looked like his favorite toy had been taken away or the tattooed bartender who was checking her out.
But there are lots of men in Chicago. Good guys with normal jobs and boring families.
“Pull over,” I state.
The driver is smart enough not to ask questions. It sets off a flurry of honking, but he finds a place to pull over on Michigan Avenue.
“What’s going on?” Audrey asks, a thread of fear appearing in her voice.
I wasn’t sure how much Samuel had told her about me. Now I know.
“If I were going to kill you, I would have already.”
Her expression blanches, as she’s unsure if I’m kidding or not.
I climb out of the SUV, dropping the cigarette on the ground and crushing the glowing tip under my heel.
I cross the sidewalk, stopping at the railing that runs along the banks on either side of the Chicago River.
Rest my elbows on the metal bar, letting the collected water droplets soak the arms of my jacket as I stare down at the dark water below.
With a sigh, I reach into the interior pocket of my tux and extract the cheap old phone stashed there. Flip it open, reading the most recent message.
Thank you.
I instructed Samuel to make the donation to the symphony a recurring one. They will have plenty of funds to “expand” however they choose to. I wish I could be the one to tell her, and the urge unnerves me. I’ve never been preoccupied with credit before. I also wish I could explain tonight.
She went onstage and played flawlessly.
Carina doesn’t need me. And I can’t need her.
I let the burner cell slip through my fingers. It disappears into the river a few seconds later, sinking to the bottom, among trash and lost items.
I turn around and head back to the waiting car.