Page 22 of Count Down

I think I’d rather be on any other project right now. Normally I can deal with these kinds of meetings better, but Solonik is bugging the hell out of me today. If Raf wasn’t sitting on the outer side of this booth, I don’t know if I could sit here any longer.

When they wrap up the deal, I’m so relieved we’re getting out of here that I find some energy to feed Solonik’s ego a bit. “It’s a pleasure meeting with you.”

Solonik doesn’t get up, he’s still working on his food. As Raf and I walk to the door, I realize that I drank the whole large soda and I’m not ready for a 45-minute ride home without hitting the bathroom.

“I’ll be out to the car in a minute.” I point to the restroom sign down the hall at the other end of the restaurant. Raf smirks at me and nods. I follow the signs down the hall and past the kitchen to the restroom.

On my way back, as I’m heading down the hall, I can hear Solonik speaking loudly. I can’t exactly understand what he’s saying, but I distinctly recognize four words.Pokhitit, doch,vykup, and a word that’s not Russian:Nicoletti.

Blood rushes up through my head. I have to fight every instinct I have to walk back up to Solonik and stab him through the throat with one of his kebab skewers. Willing myself to keep a blank face, I walk out of the hall toward the door. I see that Solonik is talking to the scrawny junkie again. I call to Solonik and give him a small salute, “We’ll be in touch.” I walk out the restaurant door, but not before I hear Solonik say “do svidaniya.” Before the door closes, I hear him murmur “mudak.”Asshole.

I pretend I didn’t hear him and join Raf in his car. “Solonik’s a sloppy motherfucker.”

Raf starts the engine and pulls out of the parking lot. “Did you expect anything else?”

Solonik is sloppy, not just in how he eats, but how he conducts his business. He assumed I wouldn’t know what he was saying because it was in Russian. It’s such an arrogant rookie move that I’d be surprised if he lives long enough to honor the deal with Raf.

I don’t care that he called me an asshole when I left the restaurant. It’s what I heard him say before that. He said Nicoletti, that was obvious. But he also saidpokhititor “kidnap,”dochor “daughter,” andvykupor “ransom.” In the same sentence he said “kidnap,” “ransom,” “Nicoletti,” and “daughter.”

I guess I should go to my next pilates session after all.

20

GINA

I tryto be home as little as possible after the fight with my father. I followed my mother’s warning and sold her watch. I tried not to feel guilty about it. I can’t give up my whole life just because I’ll feel guilty about disappointing my parents.

The guy at the pawn shop offered me $2,000 for the watch. He said he’d pay me twice as much if I had the original box and certification papers for it. I took the $2,000 and paid Lexi my half of the deposit.

I still feel lost in my own life. But at least it’s feeling more likemy ownlife. And now I’ve got two things to look forward to. My pilates session with Luca today and meeting Lexi to get the keys for our apartment tomorrow.

I arrive at the pilates studio earlier than usual. Partly because I wanted to get out of the house and partly because I’m eager to see Luca again. I’m nervous too. The last time I saw him, he kissed me. I can’t help wondering if it might happen again.

I hang out at the front desk while Irene finishes her class. Absently, I flip through a catalog the studio owner has left on the desk while trying not to look at the clock every five seconds.

After Irene’s class is over and everyone has left, I get things set up again. It’s a few minutes before Luca’s appointment time and he’s not here yet. I try to distract myself from thinking he’s not going to show up for some reason. He’s been early each time so far.

With a normal client, I’d give them a few minutes before calling to see if they’re still on their way. I wonder if we even have Luca’s number. I head to the desk to start looking for his registration paperwork.

While I’m digging through the filing drawer, the front door opens. I glance up. It’s Luca. He’s already dressed in his gym shorts and tank top.

“Sorry I’m running late.”

“No worries,” I wave his apology away.

Luca tilts his head at me, “Are you okay?”

I was really worried he wasn’t going to show up for some reason. I must have looked shocked when I looked up to see him in the door. “I’m fine… How are you?”

“Good. I’m good.”

I notice a lack of excitement or emotion in Luca’s answer. Always when I’ve pictured seeing him again, he was excited to see me, passionate even. The Luca in my head couldn’t stand to be away from me for a week after he kissed me. A part of me imagined that maybe he’d kiss me hello. Now I feel childish and ridiculous.

This workout is very different from our past two. The first one was a little awkward as all first sessions are. We didn’t know each other, but I still felt the tension of possibility between us. Then Luca talked to me a lot more the next time. He really seemed interested, and I found my eyes drawn to his body in more and more unprofessional ways. Occasionally, I felt him looking at me in return. It wasn’t quite flirting, but we were both responsive to each other in a way I’ve definitely never felt with any other client.

Today it’s like all that never happened. Luca’s doing everything I tell him, but it feels more like he’s here because of some kind of requirement. Not voluntarily. He’s not opening up conversation. He’s not meeting my eye when I talk to him. Instinctively, I step back from him, too. I could feel his breath catch when I touched his ankles to reposition his feet, so now I’m hesitant to touch him with any corrections. I try to start conversations with him. He answers. He’s not rude. But he isn’t keeping it going.

It’s one of the worst pilates sessions I can remember teaching. It feels sterile. Functional. Pointless. Eventually I give up trying to make conversation or connection with him. I feel like a robot, just giving him instructions.