Page 63 of The Game

Maroz paces across the floor, scowling. “She never talked to me about the deal she did or who she did it with, buteveryonemakes a deal.” He waves his arm around. “No one talks about it. If you come from Russia, you’re looking over your shoulder all your life. You never escape, and that’s the end of it. People want things from you, and you have to do what they ask, because you won’t be alive in twelve months if you don’t.”

Is this true? “How about you, Arty? Did you do a deal, too?” Is he, I suddenly wonder, doing something someone asked him to do, right now?

He stops pacing and says nothing as he stares up at the ceiling, face screwed up, and runs a distracted hand through his hair. “Yes, I made a deal, and that’s all I’m going to say to you.”

Is this the reason he’s being such a nuisance?Maybe his deal has something to do with Anna.

Suddenly I lose patience. I step forward and grab his arm, twisting it behind his back and slamming him up against the wall. Defense tends to be my default—wait it out and let them make the mistake—but I can do offense when it’s warranted.

Maroz yelps, perhaps more in surprise than anything. “What the hell are you doing?” he grunts out from where his cheek is pushed into the concrete.

“Why are you so interested in her business? Does your deal involve Anna?” I growl.

“What? Fuck, no!”

“So why are you pestering her?” I twist his arm a little tighter, and he cries out again.

“How the fuck are you so strong?”

“Answer the question.”

“She owes me.”

“Sheowesyou?”

“My father negotiated all her first sponsorship deals in tennis. She fucked him over and switched to a US agent. It cost him millions, and he lost a lot of face. Ask her. Ask her about the stupid games she plays with the people who support her career. She uses people.”

“Don’t athletes switch agents all the time?” I’m sure I read something about this.

“Not in Russia.”

“We’re not in Russia.”

He glowers, even though his face is still hard against the concrete.

“Is your father the person she made this supposed deal with?”

“I already told you I have no idea what she agreed or who with.”

Christ, I’m starting to believe some crazy deal-making system exists. It’s dangerous to talk to a guy like Arty Maroz. Is this the whole reason for all his bullshit? Some problem with his father losing money and face? Is Maroz the attack dog that oligarchs like his father set on people they can’t reach themselves?

I put a bit more weight and an extra little twist into his arm, and he howls. “What are you doing, you fucker!”

“Leave Anna the fuck alone. I don’t care about you or your stupid stories about deals. I don’t want to see your face anywhere near her.” He grunts at me, and I lean in a little more, making him yowl again. “I didn’t hear your agreement.”

“Yeah, okay! Okay! Motherfucker.”

I step back and blow out a long breath.

“You’ll regret this,” he says, straightening his jacket. “My father is friends with a lot of powerful people. You’re the idiot here. Try asking her a few more questions before being so eager to defend her. You have no idea who she is and what she’s done. Ask her about what happened in Russia.”

He gives me one last scowl then turns on his heel and heads out onto the street.

Later on that evening, when I talk to Anna, we talk about how Christmas is only four weeks away now, how she’s trying to persuade her parents to come over for the holidays, and how I’ll have to go back home and see mine. And it feels wrong to think about leaving New York, even for a few days. The urgency to sort out Arty Maroz throbs in my veins.

I don’t tell her about Arty’s visit or the stuff he spouted about some deal. Everything he told me about Anna and “making a deal” is likely bullshit, but something is going on here and I want to understand what it is and why he’s hanging around,beforeI speak to Anna. My best way forward has to be Fabian. Anna didn’t want to do anything illegal when I first mentioned it to her, but that’s not such an issue for me. Fabian won’t do something that will land me in trouble, and what option do I have? Maybe Anna didn’t want me digging into her past, but the questions Maroz has placed in my head mean I’ve got to do something. It turns my stomach. Hopefully, Fabian will find some stuff that will force Maroz to stay the fuck away from the both of us and we can nail this stuff for good.

23

---