Hello, Privet! #1: Hello/Привет

Chapter 3

ANTON

I take the phone away from my ear as John shouts, but I can still hear him.

"Damn it, man. What is this jackassery you done now?"

"Uh..."

"I tell you not to get in trouble. I tell you we can't handle no more problems. But what do you do, huh?"

"But—" I shrug, glancing at Kolya across me, who has his head in his hands.

"What the hell, man? I leave you for one second and you get yourself into this situation?"

I do not know how to answer this.

"We did not know they were prostitutes."

John stops talking and I am worried if we lost the connection. But I hear him breathing, and he says, "Oh, is that so, Anton? You didn't know that they were prostitutes?"

"Yeah. Yeah. That is what I tell the police."

"And you had absolutely no idea they were prostitutes? In Reeper-fucking-bahn?"

"I told you, da? I don't ask the women what they do for their job. I don't care what they do. We just had a few drinks. They ride in the car with us. What is wrong with this? Who cares what they do? We drop them off at the hotel. Then the police—they take us here."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You already said. And now you want me to clean up yo' shit." John shakes his head. "If I thought I'd be doing this for a living, I'd have worked in the Bronx Zoo on poop scoop detail, man. Cleanin' the lion cages. The monkey cages. The elephant cages. At least the elephants are friendly."

"I did not know, John!" I protest.

"It's my daughter's birthday, man. And I'll be spending it trying to get your sorry ass out of jail." John takes a deep breath to calm himself. He always gets this way when he talks to me these days.

For the years he has managed me, he always gets me out of trouble, but maybe not so serious as this. I do not know what to say now.

"And what did I tell you about hanging out with Yermakov, huh? This was his idea, wasn't it? It reeks of that dumbass Yermakov. I can smell it all the way from Berlin to NYC."

I don't tell him we are in Hamburg and not in Berlin because he's still talking.

"How many times have I told you—practice with him, okay. But don't—don't go out on the town with that—stupid ass clown. He's no good for you at this point in your career, man. You can't act like a kid anymore."

"I know. I know. I am sorry, John."

John laughs, but not nicely. "Oh, you're sorry. You're sorry. That's just wonderful, Anton." He pauses, and then shouts, "What am I gonna do with that, man?!"

John doesn't say anything for a while and the policeman looks at me, shaking his head and tells me to hurry up with my phone call.

"Maybe I'll let you sit your sorry ass in jail so you know how it feels, how about that? You and Nikolai can have the week to think about what you've done and work on your serve. I'll FedEx the rackets and the balls."

"I am sorry." My head is hurting now. How much did I drink?

John takes a deep breath.

"Don't tell my mother."

"Of course not."

"It will not happen again."

"Okay, okay. The lawyer is on it. He'll get it sorted out." I hear him taking a deep breath. "What am I always telling you, Anton? You can do whatever the hell you like, man, but don't get caught. Don't get caught. Isn't that what I tell all my guys?"