Chapter 3 The Manhattan Club
The Manhattan Club
“Nothing? Not even a phone call?” Elena gave me a scalding look as if that was somehow my fault.
“Nothing,” I repeated, stepping to the side as we passed a steaming grate on the sidewalk. I wasn’t about to ruin one of my three pairs of heels. “I changed my mind about him anyway.”
“Ooo—changed your mind.” She rolled her eyes. “Only took you a month. Those are boys playing games. You and I are too grown for games. Probably thinks himself the most handsome in town, doing whatever he wants. God forbid, ending up with a man like that and his borrowed Mercedes.”
I took a warm, wet breath in the shelter of my scarf to avoid the cutting cold in my lungs. It was still early and the clouds overhead didn’t inspire hope for when the sun came up.
Maybe he was the most handsome in town, and I should have known better because men like that—men with good jobs—didn’t stay single.
He would have every girl who would pass as a supermodel anywhere else purring on his lap.
He was only intrigued with me because I didn’t give him my number.
Men love challenges, and when he got my ‘yes,’ there was no reason to keep trying.
I knew enough bastards like that. Every New Russian with their bright sports jacket and gaudy rings had the same attitude, although most just skipped to the part where they flashed a roll of dollars.
And he tried that, didn’t he? Showed me the Mercedes and let the cashier keep whatever absurd amount of change came from paying for tea with a bank note.
Tried to get into my good graces with Chekhov. He…
…admitted the Mercedes wasn’t his.
No. If I wanted to go out with someone like that, there was plenty of opportunity when Elena inevitably dragged me to one of her non-dates with guys she met at the Manhattan Club.
I didn’t need these problems.
I had had enough already. It was cold, and they turned off the heat in the offices, so I had to wear my coat and gloves the entire day.
It happened every winter, but that didn’t make it any less miserable.
To add to that, there was talk of wages being withheld and everyone was panicking.
People were always panicking, but what could we do if we had to go a month without them?
I had enough saved up so I could pay the bills for Mama and Maxim, but for how long?
We rounded the corner and shouldered through a crowd waiting at the bus stop past a couple of young guys sitting on the stairs.
They catcalled us, making kissy faces and promises their anatomy couldn’t keep.
Who raised them? Neither I nor Elena reacted.
When you hear it daily, the novelty wears off.
“Come with me tonight. Maybe you can meet someone who owns a cellphone and won’t forget to call you,” Elena said. “There are some good guys out there who can take care of you, and it’s not just talk and temper tantrums.”
I could take care of myself, but she knew that and this was just bait to invite another eye roll.
“What is tonight?”
“Just some friends. Lyosha and Dmitri want to go to the Manhattan Club because the place now serves this ‘veesky’ they like.”
“I don’t know,” I said, knowing I had no intention of going. Those were her secret friends, and I wondered what fib she’d tell her parents when she inevitably didn’t come home that night.
“Oh, come on,” she said. “Don’t be so stubborn, it’s not good for you.”
We stopped where the sidewalk split off. The hospital with its many green-painted windows towered above us with pigeons waiting like gargoyles on the eaves. I could almost smell the iodine.
Even this early, crowds stood shoulder to shoulder on the other side of the doors. At least Elena had job security and would continue getting her nurse wages if the worst were to happen.
“Alright, well, I love you and hope you reconsider,” she said. “If you do, I’m off at five and Dmitri is going to pick me up by the pharmacy around the corner. Meet us there?”
“I’ll think on it,” I said, and we hugged briefly before she went inside and I continued on my way. The hospital wasn’t far from the Administrative Building, so I didn’t have a long walk if I decided to join her later on to mend my bruised pride. Which I wasn’t considering. At all.
People rushed past me and unapologetically stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.
Vendors unloaded their large, checkered bags full of goods from the backs of age-thrashed vans.
The benches that weren’t broken quickly filled up with the elderly, and stray dogs sleeping underneath.
A typical morning, but something felt off.
There is a distinct tap at the back of your brain when things aren’t as they appear, even if your conscious self can’t place it. My steps sped up, but not terribly because the heels rubbed against my toes, and there was only so much I could do not to wobble on the cracked cement.
And then I glanced him.
The man walked six to seven meters behind me.
He wore a wide, gray coat and an ushanka—a rounded fur hat covering his ears—with his lower face concealed by a blue scarf.
It could have been a regular anyone, but I got the impression he pushed through the crowd to stay at that distance, and my stomach turned.
“Yekaterina Petrovna, good morning,” someone said, startling me into nearly tripping. The speaker was a uniformed man who worked on my floor, and I was grateful when he offered to escort me to the building.
Before the doors fell closed, I glanced back, but lost the man in the crowd.
* * *
The work day proved especially tedious. There were endless requests and fifteen trips up and down the stairs to deliver documents and exactly two coffees. My mood soured enough that I thought of Elena and her offer. Inevitably, I gave in.
She squealed as I came into view, and thankfully did not gloat because I was one rice-sized moment away from turning around and getting on the 9A bus to take my butt home.
“I’m so glad you came!” she said, taking my hand. There was the red lipstick that said she also put on a scandalous dress in the bathroom at work. Behind her, a red BMW pulled up onto the curb.
The window rolled down, and a man with big ears sticking out from under an Adidas beanie leaned out. “Lenka! Let’s go, come on!”
“Ever the gentleman,” I muttered, and Elena took hold of my arm, dragging me to Dmitri’s car. We fell into the backseat, and I had to admit the warmth inside was welcome after the frigid walk, even if the cologne and stale cigars weighed it down, permeating the leather.
The man in the front passenger seat twisted around. “Is that Katya?”
“Lyosha, leave her alone, she doesn’t deal with the likes of you,” Elena teased, but gave me a subtle wink.
“Aha, well, I don’t see a ring on her finger.”
I shouldn’t have taken my gloves off.
They were a recent addition to Elena’s circle. Dmitri was quick to buy her things, so he became the primary focus of her time. I’d gone out with them on a couple of occasions, but men like that weren’t interested in getting to know the girls who decorated their dinner tables.
Elena talked a lot about their spacious apartment and how it smelled like a Parisian market. I don’t know how she knew what a Parisian market smelled like, and I don’t think she did either.
The two were Chechens, even if their names weren’t. Brothers, by what I could tell. Maybe second generation, because their accents were very thin.
No one told us where we were going, but I could guess. The New Russians loved the newly remodeled, two-story restaurant that’d taken the place of a historic library in Old Town. As we pulled up, my window lit up with the gold cursive lettering. ‘The Manhattan Club.’
Several chauffeurs leaned against expensive cars out front, smoking and laughing as their employers dined inside. No one seemed concerned about taking up half the road and the entire sidewalk.
Dmitri parked out front, and we piled out of the car. No one opened the door for me, and normally I wouldn’t notice, but I couldn’t help but think of Vitali and the way he never even considered the possibility that I’d ever touch the door handle.
The Manhattan Club was what everyone thought money looked like, with its soft conversational jazz and dim lighting accentuating the thick cigar smoke. If it weren’t so full of roaring swears and mouth-full laughter, one might even call it classy.
Lyosha eagerly spoke to the girl in the pressed dress and immaculately styled hair as she led us to a table.
“Not ashamed to flirt with her in front of us, is he?” Elena whispered to me. “He’s such a dog, but a heart of gold—I promise.”
Somehow, I doubted that.
We were seated at a table by the windows, but by this time it had grown dark and all I could see was my reflection with the background of lamps and loud people raising crystal glasses of expensive cognac. Dmitri ordered a round for the table.
The menu showed the prices in rubles and dollars, but all that did was remind me of the horrible state of my country.
The numbers were absurdly different and the ruble almost worthless.
That seemed a good metaphor for the way I sat like a prop in that prestigious restaurant while Maxim was eating cabbage stew at home.
Another reason I didn’t like joining Elena on this sort of outing.
They ordered beef carpaccio and potatoes with truffle oil. That raised my mood and guilted me into feeling like an ungrateful bitch, so I tried my best to join the conversation. I did have to lubricate my attitude with a glass or two of cognac, but in my defense, I had a bad day.
When the plates were mostly cleared two hours later, the men lounged back in their chairs, and the girl brought a dessert menu printed on a small gilded card.
“Well, girls, did you like it? Order whatever your heart desires,” Dmitri said, and Elena smiled and glanced down subtly enough to seem like she’d waved off the offer.
‘Oh no, I couldn’t possibly,’ her expression said, but her liquor-glazed eyes landed on the tiramisu.
“You know where I had the best carpaccio?” Lyosha said, smugly showing his teeth in what could pass as a smile to someone who’d never seen a smile before. “In London. It was ‘New York’ style. Nowhere else does it so good—nowhere. This is garbage.” He mimed a spit. “Ever been to London, Katya?”
“What a great idea!” Elena cut in as I opened my mouth to answer. “We should go to London. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
“I’ve always wanted to see England,” I agreed. Her answer was far more diplomatic than the one I wanted to give.
“We will all go,” Dmitri said with a jovial slap to his knee. “In the spring—it’s mraz in the winter. Nothing but rain.”
Somewhere far away, Rick Kelli sang ‘It seems we’ve come to the conclusion of the night.’
“I’d hate to miss work,” I said dryly, swirling the thick alcohol around in my glass. The night already inspired too much drinking, and I needed to slow down.
“Women shouldn’t have to work,” Lyosha said, slapping the tablecloth. “My woman would never work. How do you like that, Katya?”
“I think she’d like that,” Dmitri said.
“I’m not your woman, so I suppose we’ll never find out my feelings on the matter,” I said with a smile.
“Not yet,” Lyosha promised, and the revulsion tightened in my chest. “But you let me take you out—just you and I, you’ll see what a nice guy I am. I bet we have a lot in common.”
“Tiramisu, please,” Elena said to the server in a waistcoat.
“Bring another bottle,” Dmitri said. “These women are too beautiful to be cheap.”
Russe sang ‘Across the sea I’ll take you dancing…’ through the speakers.
“I’ll be your man, if just in passing,” Elena sang to herself, drunk.
“I need to go home,” I said with no intention to entertain Lyosha’s offer. Elena wouldn’t keep them around forever. I needed only to wait out her attention span.
“You’re always leaving early.” She put a hand on my shoulder in an attempt to get me to sit down, and succeeded. I frowned, but there was something unhappy in her expression that had nothing to do with me.
“The club next,” Dmitri declared, and raised a glass. A bit spilled as his hand trembled.
Lyosha was no less sloppy, but he had that air about him where I just knew he was looking for someone to fight. I’d seen enough men dipped in vodka sitting in alleyways to know that stare. This was no different, just dressed in Adidas instead of pee-stained factory work shirts.
“You like my outfit, Kotik?” he asked, drops of cognac suspended indefinitely in his beard.
This, more than anything, lit that anger in my chest, and this time I didn’t announce it, just stood and grabbed Elena’s arm. She drank enough not to fight me, at least physically.
The protests of her friends faded behind us as I dragged her out the door.
The chauffeurs gave us disinterested glances as we ducked through the collection of Audis and BMWs. It was late—but not too late to catch the bus. A taxi was out of the question, and anyway, we were going to different parts of town.
Elena whined, but I was sober enough for the both of us, hopefully. Her mother would kill her. I didn’t know what she was thinking, but right then, the important thing was getting off the street before we froze.
It took me twenty minutes to feel bad about the evening. Dmitri and Lyosha weren’t any different from anyone else we’d gone out with, and my attitude wasn’t justified. The food had been good, and the liquor expensive (not that it mattered), so why was I so mad?
It took me another twenty-five minutes of the bus ride with Elena slumped across me to finally admit it was because I wanted someone else to be sitting across the table, and despite everything, I was supposed to know better than to think that.