Anton

by Brenda Rothert

  “Nope, I dumped the body before I picked you up.”

  “Thanks for that.” I say with a light laugh. His response was unexpected for someone I’ve only seen as serious, but I can appreciate anyone with a dry sense of humor.

  He turns to face me. “I noticed how attractive you were when I saw you at events with Adam. I’m only human—I thought you were stunning every time. But you really got me at that Christmas party the team had for foster kids.”

  “Two years ago?” I ask, not remembering any details.

  He nods. “All the other wives were handing out presents and posing for pictures, chasing after the celebrities who were there. And when I looked for you, I thought you hadn’t come at first, because you were nowhere to be found. But then I saw you at a table in the corner, coloring with a kid who was too shy to sit on Santa’s lap.”

  “Bryson.” I smile. “I remember.”

  Anton’s gaze softens. “See that? You even remember his name. That’s who you are, Mia. And it sets you apart from all the other women I see with nice…wrapping paper, as you call it.”

  I’m so embarrassed by the lump in my throat that I look away, trying to gather myself. It’s been so damn long since anyone said something like that about me. Years. I think my grandparents are the only ones who have ever made me feel like Anton just did. Like I’m a good person who deserves…better.

  He seems to sense how I’m feeling, and he fills in the silent gap.

  “I’m traveling tomorrow for a game, but I uh, got you this…”

  He reaches onto his dash and hands me a gift card. I look down and see it’s for Uber, and it’s for $100. I give him a puzzled look.

  “To get you to and from work,” he explains.

  I set it back on the dash. “I can’t take this.”

  He tries to hand it back. “Yes, you can. Please.”

  I take a deep breath and face him. “Listen. I used to be an independent person. I didn’t have much, but I took care of myself. And then I met Adam, and over time I became someone I didn’t recognize anymore. I’m getting back to who I was.”

  “It’s not about making you dependent on me, Mia. It’s just about you getting home safe and warm. I’d drive you myself if I was in town.”

  I push away his hand with the card in it. “The offer is appreciated, really. But I’ll be fine.”

  Anton opens his door at the same time I open mine. He walks around the car and meets me on the sidewalk.

  “You’re not coming in,” I tell him, my eyes wide and my tone firm.

  He smiles. “I’m walking you to the door.”

  “Oh.”

  I fish my keys out of my backpack and unlock the building’s front door.

  “Have a good trip,” I tell him.

  “Thanks.” He clears his throat to get my attention. “I’m gonna leave this right here.” He sets the Uber card down on the wide concrete railing to the front steps of the building. “And you can either take it, or leave it for someone to find.”

  “Anton.” I turn to glare at him, but he’s already down the stairs, pulling his black wool coat closed.

  “Mia.” He gives me a warm smile and then walks to his car.

  I pick up the gift card and slide it into my pocket, because my grandparents didn’t raise a fool.

  Chapter Eight

  Anton

  * * *

  For a few seconds, I can’t even look. My teammate Zack Werner is lying motionless on the ice and the trainers are all rushing out there.

  Motherfucking John Hanlin. That guy’s a known headhunter. He hits dirty and spends more time in the penalty box than anyone in the league.

  “Doesn’t look good,” Luca says under his breath.

  Zack’s taken a lot of hard hits in his career. He thought about retiring last year, but couldn’t bring himself to leave the game he loves.

  Hanlin’s standing off to the side, running his mouth to a teammate who’s putting a hand out and telling him to shut up. When you just knocked a guy out during a game, it’s a good fucking idea to stay silent, but Hanlin’s a prick.

  He’ll get his. One of our defensemen, Nick Price, threw his gloves down right after the hit but backed off when he saw that Zack wasn’t getting up.

  Zack stirs a little, and I finally let out the breath I was holding. The trainers help him up and off the ice. Hanlin gets ejected and his own home crowd cheers loudly.

  “That fucker’s got it comin’ now,” Vic says to me.

  “Fuck yeah he does.”

  Our enforcer will handle it, but there’s not a man on this team that wouldn’t like a go with Hanlin right now. Illegally checking an older player who’s had countless concussions is just fucking sick.

  “My shoulder was down!” I can hear Hanlin grousing to his coach on the other bench.

  The guys on our bench yell back at him, and Hanlin is quickly led back to their locker room.

  Our team is fired up after that, and Hanlin’s teammates pay the price for his aggression. We smoke them 6–2.

  “You wanna come out for dinner with us, padre?” Knox asks me after the game.

  Eh. Not really. I want to go see if there’s any place in Phoenix that can deliver a decent meal to the hotel at this hour. But I hardly ever go out with the guys, and as captain, I should make an appearance sometimes.

  “Sure.”

  He arches his brows, surprised. “Really?”

  “Yep.”

  Once our post-game interviews are over and we’re all showered and dressed in suits, seven of us go to a local steakhouse. I’m not thrilled that Adam’s with us. He hits on our waitress and it’s all I can do to stay quiet.

  I take out my phone and text Mia.

  Me: Hey from Phoenix. How are you? Working tonight?

  She writes back soon.

  Mia: Yep, but I’m on a break. Did you win?

  Me: We did.

  Mia: I heard some guys talking in the bar about Zack taking a bad hit. Is he okay?

  Me: He’s at the hospital getting evaluated.

  Mia: Hope he’s okay.

  Me: I’ll let you know when I hear…got plans for Thanksgiving?

  Mia: Ha, no! I didn’t even realize it was coming up. I’ve been busy working a lot.

  Me: It’s two days away.

  Mia: I’ll probably catch up on sleep and go see my grandpa. Are you doing a family thing?

  Me: Yeah, I’m having it catered at my place and the family’s meeting there. You’re welcome to come by.

  Mia: Thanks.

  Luca’s giving me a look from the other side of the table.

  “What?” I ask him.

  “Who ya texting?”

  “My accountant.”

  “Is she a hot blond?”

  I laugh. “No, he’s a bald guy with a beard.”

  Luca shakes his head. “You got my hopes up there for a second. I thought you might be leaving your celibate life.”

  I just grunt in response.

  “Did you say Anton’s getting laid?” Vic turns to me, grinning.

  “No,” I growl. “And Luca’s not either, so don’t give me any shit.”

  “Yeah, but I’ve got three kids at home,” Luca says. “What’s your excuse?”

  “My uncle is a bigger pain in the ass than any kid.”

  I turn back to my phone and see another message from Mia.

  Mia: Back to work. Have a good night.

  I set my phone on the table, disappointed our short conversation is over.

  Our food is delivered and I’m about to dig into my steak when my phone rings. I drop the fork and grab the phone, hoping it’s Mia but not wanting anyone to see my screen.

  “Hello?”

  “Mr. Petrov, it’s Marjorie, Mr. Dixon’s nurse.”

  The new nurse has only been on duty for a few days. My stomach drops with worry over the late-night call.

  “Is he okay?” I ask.

  Her laugh is humorless. “I tucked him into bed and went to tak
e a shower. A Chicago PD officer knocked on the door as soon as I was done and told me Mr. Dixon was urinating off of the balcony.”

  “Oh, shit.” I close my eyes.

  “I can’t even trust him long enough to use the bathroom. And his language…”

  “Marjorie, I’m sorry.”

  She sighs heavily into the phone. “I know you told me he’s a challenging patient, but I can’t take care of someone who doesn’t want the care.”

  “Please tell me you’re not quitting.”

  She lowers her voice. “He’s the most foul-mouthed, ungrateful old grouch I’ve ever met. You couldn’t pay me enough to keep doing this job.”

  I rest my elbow on the table and my forehead on my hand. “Yeah, I understand.”

  “Look, I know you’re in a tough spot, being out of town for your job right now. I’ll stay until you get back, of course. And I’ll work a couple days after that if you really need me. I just wanted to give you as much notice as possible.”

  “I appreciate that. Thank you.”

  “I convinced the officer not to press charges, but he told me if it happens again, they won’t be so lenient.”

  I shake my head as I imagine Uncle Dix out on my balcony taking a piss over the edge. He pushes me to my limit, but he’s family, so I’ll never turn my back on him.

  “Okay.”

  “Goodnight, Mr. Petrov.”

  “Night.” I end the call, sigh softly and cut into my steak.

  “Everything okay?” Vic asks me.

  “Another nurse quit.”

  “Ah, shit. So that leaves you to line another one up from the road?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Dude, your uncle needs a drill sergeant, not a nurse.”

  “Something like that.” I shake my head.

  I finish my dinner and pay, then take an Uber back to the hotel and call my brother.

  “My older, wiser brother!” His voice is too loud when he answers, which means he’s been drinking.

  “Really, asshole? I need to have a serious conversation with you and you’re drunk?”

  “Nah. I don’t get drunk.”

  I let out an exasperated breath. “The new nurse quit.”

  “Christ, Uncle Dix is a diiiiiicks.”

  “Speaking of dicks…”

  “Wha, me?” I hear female laughter in the background. “You love me, Anton.”

  “So I guess I’ll just hire another one,” I say.

  Alexei turns serious for a second. “One of these days, one of them nurses gonna sue the shit out of us.”

  “Can’t say I blame ‘em. They’d win.”

  “Didn’t he grab somebody’s tit once?”

  I purse my lips at the memory. “He claimed it was an accident.”

  Alexei laughs. “Thas right. Said her tit was flopping around and it just landed on his hand.”

  “Okay, well…guess I’ll take care of this myself. Again.”

  “Cool. Send him to live with me, you know? If ya want.”

  “Lex, he’d die in your care.”

  “Yeah, but he’d die happy.” A woman squeals in the background and Alexei laughs.

  “You guys lost tonight,” I remind him. “Get your shit together and earn your money.”

  “I did my part. Thompson was asleep at the post.”

  “You’re a lost cause. Go get some sleep. And don’t bring any strippers to Thanksgiving dinner this year.”

  “Hey, Candy was…what was it? An exotic dancer.”

  “I’m hanging up, asshole.”

  “Byyyyyye.”

  I toss my phone on the bed and lie back. I have a sudden urge to call Mia and talk to her about this. I can’t, though. She’s working. Instead, I send a text urging her to take an Uber home tonight, and I crawl under the covers and turn off my bedside lamp.

  I’m not letting Martin and Laura down. They gave me, Alexei and their daughter a great upbringing, then nursed Martin’s mom and dad through terminal illnesses. They deserve this time to travel.

  I’ll try to lecture Uncle Dix, but it won’t work. It never does. That old bastard knows I can’t do anything about his outlandish behavior.

  Hopefully the home health place has another nurse with nerves of steel and a high tolerance for bullshit. I’ve got a feeling it’s going to cost me more, but if it solves my Uncle Dix issues, I don’t mind.

  Chapter Nine

  Mia

  * * *

  Dre’s ball bounces off my door for the hundredth time, and I pull the covers up over my head.

  Fuuuuuck. I’m trying to study for finals on four hours of sleep. I go back and forth between nodding off and being woken up by the loud four-year-old playing outside my door at 8:00 a.m.

  “Ee-ya, come out,” Dre says.

  He can’t pronounce my name right, and I fall for the cuteness of the way he says it every time.

  “Ee-ya has to study,” I tell him. “I’m sorry.”

  “You make me tea.”

  When Anita is making his dinner, I play with him and we make pretend tea and desserts. He always gets a huge kick out of me pretending to eat and drink our made-up creations. Anita’s too busy to have much time to play with him.

  “I can’t right now, sweetie,” I say half-heartedly.

  “Ee-ya.” His voice sounds different now. I look over at the closed door to my bedroom and see his little fingers wiggling at me from beneath the door.

  I can’t help it; I roll out of bed and open the door. Dre grins and runs into the room, crawling into bed beside me.

  “This my room,” he says as he pokes me in the stomach playfully.

  “I know, thanks for sharing it with me.”

  My eyelids slide closed as Dre gently jabs my tummy. I feel like I’ve been asleep for a long time when I feel him patting my cheek.

  “Ee-ya, you wake up,” he says.

  “I’m trying.”

  “You make tea.”

  “Can you make me some?”

  Dre pretends to pour an invisible cup of tea into my mouth.

  “Mmmm, so good,” I mumble.

  “Dre, get in here and eat your eggs before they get cold!” Anita calls out.

  Thank God. Maybe I can go back to sleep for another hour. All the studying and getting by on four or five hours of sleep a night is catching up with me.

  “No mama, I want tea!” Dre yells.

  It’ll be less than ten seconds before Anita is in this room telling Dre what’s up. She doesn’t put up with backtalk. My grandma and Anita would’ve gotten on well.

  She doesn’t show up, though. I throw the covers off to make sure I won’t go back to sleep and force myself into a sitting position.

  The apartment is freezing, as usual. Dre is wearing sweats and a sweatshirt, and little furry boots. I’ve learned to bundle up, because Anita keeps the thermostat at 65ºF in here during the winter.

  I slide my feet into slippers and put a cardigan sweater on to go into the kitchen.

  “Anita?” I say from the hallway.

  It’s a quick trip because the apartment is very small. When I turn the corner and walk into the kitchen, Anita is standing in front of the sink, her back facing me and her head bowed.

  “Everything okay?” I ask.

  She silently nods. That concerns me, because Anita is never silent.

  “Hey,” I say softly, approaching her. “What’s going on?”

  Her shoulders are shaking. I lay a hand on one and she bursts into tears, still staring into the sink.

  In the eight months I’ve lived here, I’ve never seen Anita like this. She runs a tight ship, keeping track of Dre while working and going to law school. Everything in her life is controlled—she gets groceries on Saturday afternoons, carrying her file folder of coupons, and she does laundry at the place down the block on Tuesday evenings.

  I gently guide her shoulder back, peeking around so I can see her face.

  “Hey, how can I help?” I ask.

  She sha
kes her head. “You ain’t got no way to help me.”

  “Let’s talk about it.”

  “Mama?” Dre comes into the room, looking at Anita with concern on his little face.

  I steer him over to the kitchen table, where I pick up his plate of scrambled eggs and his fork.

  “Mama said you can eat these while you watch cartoons today,” I tell him, setting the plate and fork on the small crate that serves as our coffee table.

  “Yeah!” Dre pumps his fist as I hand him the remote and he scrolls through the channels.

  Anita rarely lets Dre watch TV, and never while he’s eating. Her lack of protest tells me she’s really not feeling like herself.

  When I get back into the kitchen, Anita takes a deep breath, wipes her cheeks and starts scrubbing the kitchen sink with a steel wool pad.

  “Hey.” I reach out and touch her arm. “Let’s talk.”

  “Everything’s fine.” She’s focusing all her energy and attention on scouring the sink, which isn’t even all that dirty.

  “Anita,” I say firmly. “Everything is not fine. What’s going on?”

  She tosses the steel pad into the sink and turns to me.

  “It’s nothing new! I’m broke. Not just poor, Mia, broke. The rates at the daycare are going up, and my subsidy doesn’t cover that. My friend Jackie, who watches Dre on Wednesday evenings so I can go to my night class, is moving. That means one more evening I need daycare and I already can’t afford it. Groceries just keep getting more expensive, Dre needs a new coat…” She throws her hands in the air, tears glistening in her eyes. “What the hell do I do? Do I rent out my own bedroom and sleep on the couch with Dre?”

  I lean back against the counter, knowing she doesn’t really want me to answer that question.

  “I was a damn fool thinking I could get through law school,” she says bitterly. “It’s just a stupid dream that’s putting me in the poor house. I need to be working another job to take care of my son instead of going to school.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “Anita, no. You are not quitting. This is your last year, isn’t it?”

  Her shoulders slump. “I just can’t keep all the balls in the air anymore, Mia. I’ve tried too hard. I’ve borrowed all I can borrow. Shuffled the bills around every way I can. I can’t do it anymore.”