Page 83 of The Game

I press her number on my phone, and her throaty voice answers: “Privet.”

“Hey, Mila. It’s Anna.” I say, dropping into Russian.

“Hey. You okay?”

“Konstantin just called me. He wants me to go to Russia this weekend to coach.” No point in beating around the bush.

“Eh, he’s dragged me back a few times. Is it a problem?”

Yes, it’s a problem, Mila! He’s a monster. But she’s always been more involved with Konstantin than I have, and feels she has a duty to him in some twisted way.

“Was it okay when you went back?”

“It was fine.” Her voice is flat.

She never talks about anything between her and Konstantin. Maybe …

“Did he …?”

“Anna!” she interrupts. “Enough! We don’t talk about it!”

Ugh. Maybe we should.

“You’re thinking of not going?” she hurries on.

I sigh. “He always makes these threats.”

She huffs. “Control is his thing. He will put you in your place, for sure. I wouldn’t cross him, Anna. Just don’t, okay? He’s a difficult man but he’s okay if you keep him happy. And we owe him, remember? He gave us this life.”

Ugh. We’ve never seen eye to eye on this. I shouldn’t have called her. She’s not going to be sympathetic, and if I tried to brainstorm ways to wriggle out of this, I think she’d rat on me.

“We can’t ever let it come out, Anna. Remember that,” she says. “How greatwe were at tennis will be forgotten. All our accomplishments will go down the drain; we’ll just be victims. Every achievement we make forever will have that tacked onto the end of it. Do you want that? I don’t. I am great at tennis—that is what I want my legacy to be.”

God, is she right? I say the only thing I can. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Let me know if you need anything. I’m happy to help, Anna, always.”

“Thanks, Mila. I appreciate it.”

And she hangs up. Ugh. That wasnotthe conversation I was hoping for.

There’s always Adam? A little voice worms into my head. I chew my lip as I stare at the dark windows and the city lights beyond. I should explain to him how it all works in Russia. It might help him understand and make him more cautious about both the friends-with-benefits thing and whatever he’s trying to do now.Be your friend, Anna?My heart sinks. I want us to be friends, but even as my friend he’d be in the line of fire, completely negating the purpose of ending things with him. I don’t want him sucked into the life Mila and I have, forever looking over our shoulders. I glance at my wrist. 7 p.m.

I chew my lip as I tap out:

Are you busy tonight?

My finger hovers over the button before I close my eyes and press send. There’s no response for a full ten minutes, and I’m just giving up on the whole idea when a message pops up:

You feel like going out? Dog walk? Pizza? Skydiving?

I snort into my tea.

Not sure my insurance would cover skydiving.

Then I add:

Is the press still hanging around your place?

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