Page 64 of Shining Through

“I don’t have problems.”

Nikolai snorted and refilled their glasses. “You’re broke and have to beg Yuri Bogdanov for money. Without money to train, your skating career is over. I would call that a problem. Though not an insurmountable one.”

They downed another shot. The vodka was clean with a nice, peppery burn. “Meaning what?”

Nikolai smiled. “Bogdanov is a reasonable man. He just needs the right incentive. The carrot or the stick? It’s hard to know which will motivate someone. I prefer to offer rewards, but if that doesn’t work, the threat of punishment usually does.”

“Punishment.” Daniil turned the word over on his tongue. “You would know something about that.”

His father narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t lay a hand on you, though for all the trouble you put me through, you deserved a good beating. Often, it seemed as though I were the one being punished.”

“I’m sure it did.” Daniil’s mouth twisted. “Left to raise a son you never wanted, who enjoyed making your life hell?”

“Your mother knew I had no interest in raising a child. Neither did she. I’m the first to admit I’m a better businessman than parent. But the past is past, and now, you need my help. Because without it?” Nikolai shrugged, answering his own question.

So much was buried in that insolent gesture. Even if Bogdanov told him no and Daniil had to quit competing and skate as Prince Charming in an ice show, he would never take another ruble from this man. “Because without it, I’ll never amount to anything.”

“Exactly.” He poured more vodka. “So tell me what you need from me.”

Daniil slammed his shot glass down on the table. Nikolai’s very fine vodka slopped over the side. “I don’t need a fucking thing from you.”

He grabbed his coat and walked out of the bar.

~

The next morning, Daniil met his coaches for breakfast. Over a traditional spread of eggs, chopped smoked salmon, country-style bread and strong black tea, Anton said, “Bogdanov wants to meet with you today. You alone. Not me, or Ilya present.”

Daniil rubbed his eyes. Last night, Nikolai, now Bogdanov. If he could endure this, he could endure anything. “Why? So there will be no witnesses to the murder?”

“You don’t have to accept,” Anton said. “I told him I would relay the message, but the decision is yours.”

Ilya poured more tea from the aluminum pot beside his plate. “If he meant to bar you from competition, would he have had you come all the way to Moscow?”

“Why not? He’s hated me ever since my suspension. Before that, even. But I’ll see him. Best to know his decision now before I waste the week practicing programs I’ll never perform again.”

The federation office was in a non-descript building in the Taganka district, a short Metro ride from the hotel. Bogdanov’s office was small and windowless, an odd place to wield so much power. Daniil took out his phone and opened the recording app he’d downloaded for the occasion. “So I miss nothing, Yuri Viktorovich.”

Bogdanov steepled his fingers and stared at him through his dark rimmed glasses. “Your drug test came back clean.”

“As it should have. So nothing bars me from skating in Nationals, and if I’m successful here, Grenoble.”

Bogdanov looked older and even more austere than he had when he’d been Daniil’s coach. “And after years of flagrant bad behavior, now you need our money so you can continue to train.”

“As well as I’ve skated, it’s not in the federation’s interest to deny me the chance.”

“Don’t presume to tell me about the federation’s interests. If it were my choice, I would send you back to the hole from which you crawled. But others feel you deserve a chance, so unfortunately, I must give you one. Here it is. If you are the men’s national champion, you will win the privilege of representing Russia in the Winter Games, and receive funds through the rest of the season.

“And if I don’t?”

“That’s your problem, not mine.”

Daniil’s anger surged. No other skater was being held to such standards. It wasn’t fair, but it was what he’d reaped from years of doing as he pleased, damn the consequences. If he wanted a chance, he not only had to say he was worth one, he had to prove it.

Bogdanov’s hard expression reminded him of Nikolai. Both had said he’d never amount to anything. Long ago, he’d sworn he’d prove his father wrong. He added Bogdanov to the list. Daniil picked up his phone. “When I make good on my end of the deal, this proves you must hold up yours.”

Daniil’s coaches were furious when they heard what Bogdanov had said. “Legally, he can’t do that,” Anton said, fuming. “Every judge could be pressured to score you lower than you deserve.”

“Then I have to skate so well there’s no question I deserve to win,” Daniil said. “Nikolai’s money meant I could ignore the federation, but that time is over. Either I deserve to stay in on my own merit, or I don’t.”

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