Hello, Privet! #1: Hello/Привет

Chapter 27

JOHN

Yesterday, when Sophie called, I was surprised. But not as surprised when she told me she's willing to discuss her possible employment with the company again just an hour after she'd told me she already had a job.

Sophie sits silently in my office, and she seems apprehensive and nervous. Maybe she only wants to get her paycheck. I'm gonna have to play this cool. The girl is unpredictable.

"Well, Sophie, we're happy with your performance and we want you to work for us full time. I've talked it over with Human Resources and we agreed on four thousand dollars a month. How does that sound?"

"Hmm—"

"You don't like it?" Anton did say he was willing to pay more. Seriously, sometimes I don't understand the guy. "Sophie, who taught you how to play hardball?"

She blinks at me innocently.

"We're gonna give you more money. Five thousand dollars a month, your travel expenses are covered, of course. What do you say?"

"Well—" She still seems hesitant.

"That's as far as we'll go. You won't get this kind of offer on any entry-level job in this city, Soph. I'm tellin' you. Think about it. And you don't even have to see Anton everyday. Maybe just two days a week." Sophie doesn't know yet that I am lying, that the tennis season is actually eleven months, and she would be required to travel with Anton throughout these eleven months.

"Really?"

"And if you can get him to apologize to Henry..." I begin.

"Who?"

"Henry Landau is Anton's coach. He won't come back until Anton apologizes." I smile at the irony of it. Anton will be paying someone to convince him to make amends with his coach, even if he doesn't know it yet. It's worth a shot.

She seems skeptical. "Oh, right. But—if you couldn't make him do it, what makes you think I can do it?"

"Well, Sophie, I'll be honest with you. I just don't know what else to do. We've tried everything. We've tried seasoned celebrity assistants, publicists for international stars, publicists for politicians. Nothing's worked out. He's strange—Anton. If he doesn't like you, no matter how good you are, he won't listen to you. But apparently, you did something right. Sophie, you're our only chance here."

Her face is drawn, as if she is struggling with something. Not a good sign. I am about to offer more money, but then she speaks.

"I don't understand him, John. He was extremely rude to me—like he hated me as a person. I don't want to exaggerate, but he really seemed to go out of his way to be mean to me."

I smile confidently. "Oh, Anton is Russian. This is what they are like."

"That's not an excuse," Sophie says, frowning.

"Yeah, but it's not exactly rudeness on his part. It's just the—the Russian way of doing things." At least that's how Kirill explained it to me once.

"But Kirill isn't rude or mean—he's actually one of the nicest guys I've ever known," Sophie says.

Well, she's caught me there.

"So, forgive for saying—I can't accept this sweeping generalization about Russians, nor excuse his behavior."

"Anton likes to shock people. He knows that stories about his attitude have spread around, y'know?" I shrug, trying to look like I know what I'm talking about. I have a faint idea about what happened, but I am not sure whether I should find the whole thing funny in retrospect. Either way, it wouldn't have done any good. Anton will just continue to do what he wants. "Sometimes he just acts like that because of what they say about him, you know what I'm sayin'?"