NOVAK

by Bergen, KC

  Mary was amused at his quirky personality. She watched Tristan stride to the chair and take a seat. “I have told you many things already,” he said. “What else do you want to know?”

  “Tell me about your childhood.”

  Crossing his legs, Tristan leaned back in the chair. “It’s a boring story, I’m afraid. I mostly stayed in my room, studying. I suspect the boredom as a young boy eventually got me into the KGB. Why don’t you tell me something about yourself?”

  “Well, my family is originally from Ireland and Denmark but came to the US before I was born. I guess you could say that they—we—pursued our American dream.”

  “Wow, that’s awesome!” Peter cleared his throat. “I mean, that’s intriguing. You like it here?”

  “Yes. I’ve lived in LA for the most part but moved here a few years ago.”

  “How come?”

  “I had a change of heart.”

  “Heart transplant?”

  “No, divorce.”

  “I understand. Well, it’s not as bad as open heart surgery.”

  Mary sniggered at Tristan’s deadpan delivery. “I suppose not. Have you been married before?”

  Peter uncrossed his legs and rubbed his thigh. He seemed lost for a moment, even sad, but then he nodded to himself and met Mary’s eyes.

  “Yes, I was married once,” he said. “We were working together as KGB agents. Long story short, she tried to kill me in my own house. Then I defended myself, she tried to kill me again, and so on.”

  “Oh my, it sounds like that movie, Mr. and Mrs. Smith.”

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right. And as with Brad and Angelina, things fell apart in the end.”

  “Your story is definitely not boring,” Mary said. She realized that she hadn’t mentioned having a son. How would he react to that nugget of information? “My story, however … I’m a divorcee who’s trying to raise a boy the best way I can.”

  “I’d like to meet your son. Where is he now?”

  “Michael is in summer school.” Mary felt that she shouldn’t have mentioned her son’s name. Things were getting too personal and this was first and foremost a business meeting, a showing. “Let me show you around.”

  Mary guided Tristan to the open kitchen and living room, and then showed him the terrace and the fabulous view of the mountains.

  “Nice pool,” Tristan said. “This is one good-looking property.”

  “So where are you staying right now?”

  “At the … Ritz Hotel.”

  “The Ritz? In LA?”

  “That’s the one.”

  Mary was flattered. The KGB officer had traveled all the way from Russia, and then driven two hours from LA just to come see her. Well, her and the house. She showed him the rest of it, and they chatted about real estate, the history of the town, and things to do in the area.

  “You fascinate me,” Tristan said.

  I fascinate you? No man had ever said those words to her. Well, there’d been a guy in college, but he’d turned out to be a horndog. She felt like asking why, but at the same time she was a professional on duty. “Thank you. So what do you think about the house?”

  “It’s very nice. I’m definitely putting it on my list. Do you have any other mansions like this one to show me?”

  “Sure, but I can’t do it today. I have another appointment.” She did have two more showings on the other side of town, so she checked her schedule on her phone. “How about tomorrow afternoon, three p.m.?”

  “Unless I have to save someone’s life, I will be there.”

  “You have my number,” Mary said, amused. “Call me if you can’t make it.”

  “Both the rescued ones and I will make it,” Tristan said and kissed Mary’s hand. “Until tomorrow, my mermaid realtor.”

  Driving across town, Mary thought the KGB officer was fascinating too, albeit a bit melodramatic with the stories, the awkward dancing, and the hand-kissing. Still, she found herself feeling giddy with excitement about seeing Tristan again tomorrow.

  “It’s just a real estate showing,” she reminded herself, “and nothing else.”

  Mary’s final appointment turned into four showings, as the prospective buyers, a serial entrepreneur and his latest wife, wanted to see multiple properties and weren’t happy with any of them. So Mary was tired when she returned home at six in the evening. Surprisingly, no one was there. She called Michael. He said he was hanging out with his friend Danny, playing video games.

  “Don’t be too late,” Mary told her son.

  As she hung up, Novak plodded into the house. Dragging his feet, he seemed exhausted.

  “Hey Novak, are you okay?”

  “Yes. Just tired.”

  “What have you been up to?”

  “Working. Out.”

  “You worked out for twelve hours? But that’s crazy.”

  “It’s been a long day but I’ll be all right,” Novak said.

  Mary thought Novak looked unhappy as he trudged toward his room. Maybe she’d call Carol and make dinner reservations for tomorrow night. Her boyfriend Ted was a bit quirky, but Mary figured Novak would enjoy hanging out with him.

  31

  The next day Mary met up with Tristan at Valhalla Drive for another million-dollar showing. When Tristan got out of his Jag, Mary thought he looked so elegant in his tailored suit that she had to remind herself to be professional. The KGB officer was polite, businesslike, and to the point. No elaborate introduction or story this time. Mary was almost disappointed. Almost. It was also a relief to just focus on the job at hand. However, Tristan seemed distracted, as if he had something he wanted to divulge but never found the right time to say. Then, as the showing drew to a close and Mary was about to lock up the front door, Tristan touched her hand.

  “Mary, there’s something I have to tell you.”

  “Yes?”

  “I really want to get to know you better.”

  Mary was flattered. “I’d like to get to know you better too.”

  “Then go out with me. Show me your world right here in Solvang. Tonight.”

  “Tonight?” She had already made dinner reservations. “I don’t think I can.”

  “I could be leaving tomorrow. There are rumors of an active terror cell plotting an imminent attack in Eastern Europe.”

  “Rumors?”

  Peter as Tristan arched his eyebrows knowingly. “Credible rumors, like ninety percent verified. This is also called Code yellow, but KGB will call me in right away if the code changes to red. It could happen as soon as midnight.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “Terrorist attacks usually are. But there’s nothing I’d like more than to spend my last evening in this great country with you. It could be my last evening period.”

  “Don’t say that!”

  “In my line of work, you never know. Please?”

  Mary would have to come up with some kind of excuse or explanation, as she’d already made plans with Novak, Carol, and her boyfriend, Ted. The last thing she wanted, though, was to lie. But she couldn’t find it in her heart to turn down the KGB officer with the sad puppy-eyes on his potential last evening.

  “I’ve made dinner reservations with a few close friends for tonight,” Mary said.

  “That sounds great! I’d love to meet your friends.”

  “Okay. I’ll have to finish up some work first,” Mary said. “See you at Root Sixty-Four at seven?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  After her last appointment, Mary returned home to freshen up for dinner. She had the feeling that she needed a world of luck to get through the evening, so she decided to wear her lucky red dress.

  ***

  Straight after work, Novak had gone shopping. He’d spent all of his earnings on a sports jacket for the occasion. He wanted to look his best for Mary and her friends. As the old saying went: Dress to impress. Unfortunately, his earnings weren’t sufficient for a shirt and tie. He contemplated investing the last coup
le hundred dollars from Oleg’s loan, but he also needed money for the dinner. He had no choice but to wear his most unimpressive old flannel shirt.

  As Novak waited for Mary to get ready, he checked himself out in the hallway mirror. The flannel shirt definitely did not complement the new sports jacket. He was buttoning it up when Michael came in through the front door. He looked Novak up and down.

  “Going somewhere?” Michael asked innocently.

  “Yes. I’m going to meet Mary’s friends.”

  “Sounds like fun,” Michael said, grinning. “Well, I wish you a good time.”

  “Appreciate it, Michael.” Novak was happy that Mary’s son seemed to warm up to him. He’d known that deep down the kid was a good guy. Why wouldn’t he be, with such a kind and loving mother as Mary? And there she was, slowly descending the staircase on high heels, wearing a tight red dress. Novak could hardly take his eyes off her.

  “You look stunning,” he said.

  “Thank you! And you look handsome. You might be wearing a bit too much, though. It’s summer and close to ninety degrees.”

  Novak didn’t want to go dressed solely in the flannel shirt, but he couldn’t wear a regular t-shirt to the fancy restaurant either. “I’ll be fine,” he said and opened the door for Mary. “We can take my car.”

  Within a minute, Novak realized that he was in fact wearing too much. He tried to adjust the AC, but it had stopped working. The stupid thing only blew hot air! Novak attempted to lower the window but nothing happened. The damn buttons weren’t working either. Nothing was working! Beads of sweat ran down his back and stomach.

  And I can’t take off my jacket while I’m driving. Stupid old shitty shit car!

  “Are you okay?” Mary asked.

  Novak mustered a smile. “Yes, I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure? You look hot.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I meant … Well, never mind. Carol and Ted are looking forward to meeting you.”

  “And I’m looking forward to meeting them.”

  “Another person—a friend—will also be joining us. His name is Tristan.”

  “All right, looking forward to it. How far is it to the restaurant?”

  “A few minutes.”

  Thank God.

  Seven long minutes later Novak pulled into the parking lot of Root 64. Not a moment too soon, he thought as he got out of the car. He pulled at the back of his shirt, which was clinging to his skin. His sweaty armpits had definitely soaked through the shirt, so he couldn’t take off his jacket.

  Tristan pulled up in his Jag. The sleek vehicle made Novak’s look like a certifiable wreck. The stylish KGB officer popped out of his car and strutted over to Mary and Novak. Gave her a peck on the cheek and then offered Novak a long hard look.

  “And what have we here?” he said, pretending to not have a clue about the Slovenian shepherd.

  “I’m Novak. And you are?”

  “Tristan Drimov.”

  “Drimov? Where are you from?”

  “Russia. You?”

  “Slovenia.”

  “You’re not smuggling anything?” Tristan asked.

  “Why would you say that?” Mary asked.

  “It’s a legitimate question,” Tristan said. “You see, Slovenians are infamous all over Eastern Europe for smuggling things, particularly heroin. They walk around just looking for sales opportunities anywhere: nursing homes, schools, even kindergartens. They’re ruthless.”

  “We’re not drug dealers!” Novak said. “And I’m fine.”

  “I’ll be watching you,” Tristan said, pointing a finger at Novak. “Best-case scenario, the man is ill. Could be venereal disease. Slovenians are notorious sex offenders. I read somewhere that close to half of them are rapists.”

  “What are you talking about?” Novak was getting upset, which made him sweat even more. “If half of us are rapists and sex offenders, then every Slovenian woman would be a rape victim. That’s impossible. Fake news.”

  “Not if you believe in it.” Tristan opened the restaurant door for Mary. “Shocking statistics, no wonder the first lady left.”

  Tristan politely held open the door. Mary passed through it. Tristan held the door open for Novak too, but not for long. Behind Mary’s back, he discreetly bumped the door into Novak’s shoulder. He stumbled and fell. Mary turned just in time to see Tristan attempt to help Novak to his feet. But the Slovenian slapped away the Russian’s hand.

  Tristan glanced at Mary, shrugging. “You can’t even help a guy out these days. If pride doesn’t get you, heroin will. Hey, don’t move around so much, Novak. The heroin-filled condoms might burst.”

  Novak scrambled to his feet and stood up within an inch of Tristan’s face. He wanted to punch this rude Russian’s lights out.

  “What do you want—a kiss? Sorry, I don’t swing that way.”

  “You’re not Russian.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Well, where is your accent?”

  “A KGB officer is highly educated. We’re trained to speak several languages fluently.”

  “So tell me something in Russian.”

  “I don’t have to prove anything to you. Fuck offski! Capiche?”

  “Guys,” Mary interjected. “Please, let’s keep things civilized.” She turned to the maître d’. “We have a reservation, under Mary.”

  “Very well,” the maître d said, turning up his nose at Tristan and Novak, who were scuffling to get closer to Mary.

  She looked over her shoulder, and both Tristan and Novak instantly stopped their shenanigans to offer up innocent smiles. As they were led to a table near the middle of the packed restaurant, they tried to be more civil. But when Novak began pulling out a chair for Mary, Tristan stealthily stomped his heel on Novak’s toes and then took over. Mary didn’t notice the toe-stepping, only Tristan’s gallant gesture of pulling out the chair.

  “Thank you,” she said and sat down.

  “My pleasure,” Tristan said.

  Rubbing his foot, Novak groaned in pain.

  Mary asked, “What’s wrong, Novak?”

  “He stepped on my toe.”

  “Don’t be childish,” Tristan said. “These Slovenians are something else. Do you know, Mary, in Russia we make jokes about them?”

  “Really?” Mary said.

  “Da. Have you heard about the Slovenian who came into the clothing store? He wanted to return his tie because it was too tight around the neck.”

  Mary clamped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing.

  Tristan added, “That’s probably why Novak isn’t wearing a tie.”

  “Ha-ha. Very funny.” Novak pulled out a chair next to Mary, and Tristan quickly sat down in it.

  “Thank you, Novak.”

  Fuming, Novak strode toward the other side of the table as Carol and her boyfriend, Ted, arrived. They stopped right in front of the chair opposite Mary, blocking Novak’s path.

  Mary rose to give Carol a hug. “Carol, Ted. This is Tristan.”

  Tristan bowed and gave Carol a peck on her hand. “Enchanted.”

  Novak pulled at the chair next to Ted’s left leg. “Excuse me.”

  Ted shoved Novak. “Hey, are you trying to pick my pockets?”

  “No, the chair.”

  “Get away from me!” Ted said. “I’ll be using that chair. Either for sitting or for beating you over the head.”

  “No,” Mary said. “This is Novak. He’s also dining with us.”

  “Look at you,” Carol told Mary. “Two men fighting over you. Like a modern romance novel.”

  “I hate romance,” Ted muttered under his breath. “Just show me the juicy parts.” Then he said to Novak: “I thought you were a thief.”

  “Ted!” Carol slapped her boyfriend’s shoulder. “He didn’t mean it like that. It was just a misunderstanding.”

  Tristan sidled up next to Novak and shook Ted’s hand. “Well, it’s an understandable misunderstanding.”


  Forcing a smile, Novak also shook Ted’s hand. Then Novak reached for Carol’s hand. Stealthy as a KGB officer, Tristan nudged Novak’s elbow, and the former shepherd’s hand inadvertently pounced on Carol’s right breast.

  Carol shrieked. “What are you doing?”

  Ted pushed Novak, who tumbled against their approaching waiter. Novak and the waiter fell to the floor. Novak grabbed onto something for support. Unfortunately, he grabbed at the waiter’s privates.

  “Aaah!” the waiter shrieked. “What are you doing?”

  Shocked at the turn of events, Novak let go of the man’s privates. Scooting away from the livid waiter, the ex-shepherd backed up and then latched onto the nearest object for support. The object happened to be the breasts of an elderly lady in a wheelchair.

  “What the hell are you doing?!” A big man sitting next to the old lady clobbered Novak with his fist. Then he gently touched the woman’s hand. “You okay, Ma?”

  The waiter and a busboy took Novak by the arms and dragged him out of the restaurant.

  “I’m sorry,” Novak said, growing increasingly sad as the distance between him and Mary grew.

  “Those damn Slovenians,” Tristan said. “You just can’t trust them.”

  “The nerve on that guy,” Ted chimed in. “Unbelievable! Total pervert.”

  “Tell me about it,” Tristan said, shaking his head.

  “They’re kicking him out of the restaurant,” Mary said. “The incident was probably an accident.” She rose to go after him. But Tristan told her that he would take care of things.

  “Please just stay here with your friends,” Tristan said. “I think Carol needs you. She must be very shaken by what happened.” Smirking, Tristan left the table. He caught up with the waiter and busboy, and opened the door for them and Novak.

  “This is all your fault,” Novak hissed. “Are you going to hit me with the door again?”

  “Now, now. Don’t go around accusing the innocent.”

  “There’s nothing innocent about you!”

  “I suggest you take your beat-up old car and go home. All the way to Slovenia.”

  “I am not leaving this country!”

  Tristan slipped the waiter a twenty-dollar bill. “He’s not from around here, as you can see. Just get him out of here.”