“Ooh, Win,” Natty said. “I like him.”
“That’s because you have excellent taste, Natty darling,” Scarlet said, kissing Natty on the cheek.
I rolled my eyes at both of them. “If you like him so much, you should ask him out by yourself,” I told Scarlet. “Why do you need me to come with you? I’ll only be a third wheel.”
“Annie,” Scarlet whined, “don’t be dense. If it’s just me and him, I’ll be the weird girl who asked him out. If you’re there, it’s more casual and friendly.” Scarlet turned toward my sister. “Natty agrees with me, right?”
Natty paused to give me a look before nodding. “Once everything is going well, you two should have a signal that means it’s time for Annie to leave.”
“Something like this,” Scarlet said. She winked in a ridiculous and cartoonish way that contorted half her face.
“Really subtle,” I said. “Win’ll never notice that.”
“Come on, Annie! I have to stake my claim before someone else does. You have to admit that he’s completely perfect for me.”
“Based on what?” I asked. “You barely even know him.”
“Based on … Based on … We both like hats!”
“And he’s pretty,” Natty added.
“He is pretty,” Scarlet said. “I swear, Annie, I will never ask you for anything ever again.”
“Oh, all right,” I grumbled.
Scarlet kissed me. “I love you, Annie! I was thinking we’d go to that speakeasy your cousin Fats runs.”
“Yeah, that might not be such a great idea, Scar.”
“Why not?”
“Haven’t you heard? Mr. Completely Perfect’s dad is the new top cop.”
Scarlet’s eyes grew wide. “Seriously?”
I nodded.
“I guess we’ll have to pick somewhere legal, then,” Scarlet said. “That pretty much eliminates just about everything fun.”
The bus stopped on Fifth and the three of us walked the remaining six blocks to my apartment. Scarlet was coming over to study as she often did.
We entered the building and walked past the empty doorman cubicle (after the last doorman had been killed and his family had sued, the apartment board decided that they couldn’t afford to pay a doorman anymore) and we rode the elevator up to the penthouse.
Scarlet and Natty went into my bedroom while I checked on Nana.
Imogen, Nana’s nurse, was reading to her. “To begin my life with the beginning of my life, I record that I was born (as I have been informed and believe) on a Friday, at twelve o’clock at night. It was remarked that the clock began to strike, and I began to cry, simultaneously.”
Even though I wasn’t much of a reader, Imogen had a sweet voice that lulled me, and I found myself standing at the door to listen for a while. She read until the end of the chapter (which wasn’t very long), then closed the book.
“You’re here for the start of this one,” Imogen said to me. She held up the paper novel so that I could see the title: David Copperfield.
“Anyaschka, when did you get here?” Nana asked. I walked over to her and kissed her cheek. “I wanted something with more action,” Nana said, wrinkling her nose. “Girls, guns. But this was what she had.”
“It gets more exciting,” Imogen assured her. “You must be patient, Galina.”
“If it takes too long, I’ll be dead,” Nana replied.
“Enough with the gallows humor,” Imogen reprimanded.
I took the book from Imogen and held it up to my face. The dust stung my nose. The aroma was salty and a bit sour. The cover of the book was disintegrating. There hadn’t been new books printed (on account of the cost of paper) for as long as I had been alive, maybe longer. Nana once told me that when she was a girl there used to be huge stores filled with paper books. “Not that I ever went to any bookstores. I had better things to do,” she’d say with longing in her voice. “Ah, to be young!” These days, most everything was digitized. All the paper books had been pulped and recycled into essentials like toilet tissue and money. If your family (or school) happened to be in possession of a bona fide paper book, you held on to it. (By the way, one of the goods the Balanchine semya dealt in was black market paper.)
“You can borrow it if you like,” Imogen said to me. “It really does get more exciting.” My grandmother’s home-health-care worker was an avid paper book collector, which seemed ridiculously old-fashioned to me. Why would a person want all those dirty paper carcasses around? Still, the books had value for her, so I knew it was a sign of respect that she would offer one of them to me.
I shook my head. “No, thanks. I have a ton of reading for school.” I preferred reading on my slate, and I wasn’t much into fiction anyway.
Imogen checked my grandmother’s machines one last time before she bid us good night.
“I suppose you found Leonyd,” Nana said after Imogen had left.
“I did.” I paused, uncertain whether to trouble Nana with the story of where (and with whom) Leo had been.
“He was at the Pool with Pirozhki and Fats,” Nana said. “I asked him this morning.”
“Well, what’s your opinion?”
Nana shrugged her shoulders, which made her cough. “Maybe it’s a good thing. It’s nice that family has taken an interest in your brother. Leo’s too much among us women. He could stand for some male companionship in his life.”
I shook my head. “I don’t have a good feeling about this, Nana. Jakov Pirozhki is not exactly trustworthy.”
“Still, he’s family, Anya. And family takes care of family. That’s how it’s done. That’s how it’s always been done. Besides, Fats, at least, seems a decent enough sort.” Nana coughed again, and I poured her some water from a pitcher on the nightstand. “Thank you, devochka.”
“Leo said something about getting a job at the Pool.”
Nana’s eyes widened for a moment and then she nodded. “He didn’t tell me that part. Well, there have certainly been made men that were far more simpleminded than Leo.”
“Like who?”
“Like … Like … Like … I’ve got it!” She smiled triumphantly. “Like Viktor Popov. He was of my generation. Six feet ten inches, three hundred and fifty pounds. Would have been one hell of a football player, if he could have remembered the rules. The other guys called him Viktor the Mule to his face and the Donkey behind his back. When they needed someone to move the stuff from the back of the truck, they’d call the Mule every time. It doesn’t matter how high-tech things get, sometimes you need a guy who’s good with manual labor.”
I nodded. Nana was making some sense. For the first time since Leo had gone missing, I felt my stomach muscles unclench a little. “What happened to Viktor the Mule anyway?”
“That’s not the important part.”
“Nana.”
“He got shot in the head. Bled to death. A real shame.” Nana shook her head.
“Not exactly a good end, Nana. And Leo’s not exactly the Mule’s body type,” I said. My brother was tall, but he was thin as paper.
“My point is, devochka, that it takes all kinds to run the business. And your brother’s a big boy now.”
I gritted my teeth.
“Anyaschka, you’re too much like your father. You want to control the whole world and everyone in it, but you can’t. Let whatever this is—and it’s likely nothing—play out. If we need to intervene later, we will. Besides, Leo would never leave the clinic. He loves the animals too much.”
“So we do nothing?”
“Sometimes that’s the only thing to do,” Nana said. “Although …”
“Yes?”
“Get yourself a bar of chocolate from the closet,” she ordered.
“Chocolate doesn’t solve everything, Nana.”
“It solves a whole heck of a lot, though,” she said.
I went into her closet. I pushed past the coats to open the safe. I moved the gun out of the way. I took a chocolate bar: Balanchine Special Dark.
I put the gun back. I closed the safe.
Something wasn’t right.
One of the guns was missing. My father’s Smith & Wesson. “Nana?” I called.
She didn’t answer. I went back into her bedroom. She was already fast asleep.
“Nana,” I repeated, shaking her shoulder.
“What?” she sputtered. “What?”
“One of the guns is missing,” I said. “From the safe. Daddy’s gun.”
“Were you planning to use it tonight? Take the Colt instead.” Nana chuckled and that turned into a choke, so I gave her water. “Imogen probably moved it. I think she mentioned something about cleaning or it not being safe to keep the weapons in one place or … I’m sorry. I can’t remember.” Her face looked sad and confused for a moment, and I wanted to cry. She smiled. “Don’t worry so much, darling. You can ask her tomorrow.”
I kissed my grandmother’s cheek, then I left. On the way back to my room, I passed Leo’s. His door was shut but I could see light coming from the crack at the bottom. He must have gotten home while I’d been talking to Nana. I looked at my watch: 4:10, slightly early for my brother to be back from work.
I knocked on the door.
No answer.
I knocked again.
Still no answer. I put my ear against the wood. I could barely make out muffled sobs.
“Leo, I know you’re in there. What’s wrong?”
“Go away!” Leo said, his voice thick with tears.
“I can’t do that, Leo. I’m your sister. If something’s the matter, I need to know what it is so I can help.”
I heard the sound of Leo fastening the lock.
“Please, Leo. If you don’t open this right now, I’ll have to pick the lock. You know I can.” I had done it many times after Leo had locked himself in his room both by accident and on purpose.
Leo unlocked and opened the door.
His eyes were bloodshot, and trails of snot were coming out his nose. When he cried, my brother looked about six years old. His face turned pink and clenched up like a rose or a fist.
I put my arms around him, which made Leo cry even harder. “Oh no, Leo, what happened? Is it something with Jacks?”
Leo shook his head. After perhaps thirty more seconds of tears, Leo managed to tell me the cause of his distress. He couldn’t look me in the eye, but he finally said that he had lost his job at the veterinary clinic.
“Don’t worry, Leo.” I rubbed his back the way he liked. When he had calmed down somewhat, I asked him to explain what had happened. It turned out that the veterinary clinic had been shut down. After Leo had gotten back from lunch, someone from the New York City Department of Health had shown up for an unscheduled inspection. The clinic had been cited for fifty-one violations, most of them having to do with cleanliness, and had been ordered to immediately cease operations.
“But it was clean,” Leo said. “I know it was clean. It was my job to keep it clean, and I do a good job. Everyone says I’m a good worker, Annie.”
“It’s not your fault,” I assured my brother. This sort of thing happened every day. Clearly, someone at the clinic hadn’t been paying off the right person at the Department of Health. “Here’s my prediction, Leo. I bet you anything the clinic will reopen in a couple of weeks and you’ll be back at work in no time.”
Leo nodded, but his eyes were unconvinced. “They sent away the animals, Annie. You don’t think they’ll hurt them, do you?”
“No.” A couple of years ago there’d been a move to ban all pets from the city, but there were protests and it didn’t fly. Some people still thought nonworking animals were a waste of our limited resources. Quite honestly, I wasn’t sure what would happen, but there was no use telling Leo that. I made a mental note to call Leo’s boss, Dr. Pikarski, to see if there was anything I could do to help.
Leo said he was tired so I tucked him into bed and told him I’d wake him for dinner. “I didn’t cry in front of them at work,” he said. “When it happened, I wanted to cry but I held it in.”
“You were very brave,” I said.
I turned off his light and closed the door.
When I got back to my room, Natty and Scarlet were monopolizing the space on the bed. I wasn’t in the mood to kick out my little sister so I just sat on the floor.
“Everything all right?” Scarlet asked.
“The usual,” I replied. “Family drama.”
“Well, Natty and I were actually very productive,” Scarlet said. “We came up with a list of potential places to take Win on Friday night.”
“Seems a bit premature, seeing as he hasn’t even agreed to go with us yet,” I said.
Scarlet ignored me and held out her hand, which was where the list was written:
1. Little Egypt
2. The Lion’s Den
3. The Times
4. See a concert/show
5. Co …
Scarlet had sweated off half of number five. “What’s that last one?”
“Co …” Scarlet squinted at her hand. “Comedy. Yeah, that was kind of lame anyway.”
“Definitely Little Egypt,” I told her.
“You’re only saying that because it’s close to your house,” Scarlet said.
“What of it? It’ll be interesting if he’s never been there. Plus, you’re planning to ditch me anyway, right?”
“True,” she said. “If all goes well.”
By the time Scarlet left, it was nearly five o’clock and I had yet to even consider my homework. The same was true for Natty. “Scat,” I ordered.
Natty stood up. “You should tell her,” Natty said.
“Get started on your homework,” I said. I sat down at my desk and took out my slate. “I should tell who what?”
“Scarlet. You should tell Scarlet that you like Win.”
I shook my head. “I don’t like Win.”
“Well, then, you should tell her that he likes you.”
“You don’t know that,” I said.
“I was there yesterday. I saw,” Natty said.
I turned to look at my sister. “Scarlet saw him first.”
“That’s stupid.”
“And I just broke up with someone so …”
“Uh-huh.” Natty rolled her eyes. “It’s gonna be trouble if you don’t tell her.”
“What do you know? You’re a little kid,” I said. I honestly had no idea why I’d been entertaining this line of discussion for so long.
“I know some things, Annie. Like, it’s not every day a supercute boy comes along that doesn’t care who our family is. Mostly, you end up with dummies like Gable. And Win likes you which is practically a miracle. You’re not exactly the easiest person in the world to like, you know.”
“Go! Study! Now!” I ordered. “And close my door!”
Natty scurried to the door but before she shut it, she whispered, “You know I’m right.”
Other than the respective textures of our hair, the main difference between Natty and me was that she was a romantic and I was a realist. I couldn’t afford to be a romantic—I’d had to take care of her and Nana and Leo since I was nine years old. So, yeah, I wasn’t blind. I saw that Win probably liked me, and I can truly say that I didn’t care. He didn’t even know me; he probably just had a thing for brunettes or C-cup breasts or my particular pheromones or blah, blah, blah, whatever dumb thing made anyone like anyone. Romance was a complete waste anyway. My mother had felt romantic about my father, and look where that got her—dead at thirty-eight.
This isn’t to say I couldn’t imagine that there were probably a few nice things about falling in love.
I was about to start my homework when I remembered that I needed to call Dr. Pikarski for Leo.
I picked up the phone. (We used phones sparingly because of how heavily they were taxed and the long-held belief in my family that our lines were being tapped.) I dialed Dr. Pikarski’s home number. I liked her. I had spoken to her several times in the process of securing the posi
tion at the clinic for Leo in the first place, and she had always been straight with me. More important, she’d always been good to Leo. I felt like I owed her one.
Her voice was clearly stressed when she answered the phone. “Oh, Anya,” she said, “I suppose you’ve heard. The guy from the DOH seemed to have it in for us!”
I asked Dr. Pikarski for the name of the DOH employee. “Wendel Yoric,” she said, and then I had her spell it. My family still had some friends spread across the various government agencies, and I hoped I could speed the process along a bit.
After I hung up with Dr. Pikarski, I called my family’s attorney, Mr. Kipling. (Two phone calls in one day!) Mr. Kipling had been the family’s lawyer since before I was born. My father told me that I could always count on Mr. Kipling, and Daddy didn’t say that about nearly anyone else.
“So, you want me to cut this Mr. Yoric a check?” Mr. Kipling asked after I had explained the situation.
“Yes,” I said. “Or, you know, an envelope filled with cash.”
“Of course, Anya. It was just a term of art. I have no plans to literally cut anyone at the Department of Health a check. Incidentally, it still might take a couple of weeks to sort this out,” Mr. Kipling said. “So, hold tight, Anya. And tell Leo to hold tight, too.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“How’s junior year treating you?” Mr. Kipling asked.
I groaned.
“That good?”
“Don’t ask,” I said. “I got in a fight the first day but it wasn’t my fault.”
“Sounds like Leo. Leo, Senior, I mean.” Mr. Kipling had gone to high school with Daddy. “How’s Galina?”
“Good days and bad days,” I said. “We’re all getting by.”
“Your father would be proud of you, Annie.”
I was about to say goodbye when I decided to ask Mr. Kipling what he knew about Jakov Pirozhki.
“Small-time guy who wishes he were big-time. Won’t happen, though. No one in the organization really takes him seriously, especially his own father. And since his mother wasn’t, you know, Yuri’s wife, Jacks is pretty much dogged by questions of whether he’s even a real Balanchine. I pity the kid to tell you the truth.” Yuri, by the way, was Yuri Balanchine, my father’s half brother and my uncle. He’d taken over the family after Daddy’s murder. Mr. Kipling changed the subject. “Have you decided what colleges you’re applying to?”