Copyright © 2014 by Curtis Couch
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Chapter 8
Ben looked over Mike’s hotel room. When he saw the wine glass rimmed with pink lipstick, and a used condom stranded at the bedside, his heart stopped. Ben bit so hard on his lip that it almost bled.
Mike looked over, “Oh, Tatiana was round last night.”
Ben regathered himself. “Still on for tonight?”
“Of course. Just let me finish up here.”
Mike reshelved his chess books, glanced over the computer analysis he’d been doing, then set about making himself look presentable.
“You know, I feel the best I have in years.”
“You seem it, but aren’t you worried about the--” Ben hesitated. “The gambling debt.”
“Haven’t thought about it to be honest.”
“What?”
“No – really. My head is full of chess and Tatiana, I honestly haven’t dwelt on it.”
“Gangsters are going to kill you unless you pay them $70,000 in a matter of weeks, and you haven’t,” Ben did the air apostrophes, “dwelt on it. I don’t believe you.”
“Believe what you want, but it’s true.”
Mike sprayed some Dior pour homme on his shirt, “Let’s go.”
Ben and Mike went to the ballet like the best of friends. Mike had seen Swan Lake so many times that he’d become an expert. He knew every pirouette, and didn’t lose Tatiana for a moment. She returned his happy glances, but lamented when she saw Ben beside him. Sarah similarly beamed at Mike from under the spotlight, and he smiled back.
***
Tatiana glanced at her Tag Heur watch, 20:15, Mike was late. She was all dolled up, sat in the Locande Verde, a swank new restaurant off Greenwich Street. The waiter had approached her more times than she cared for. When Mike didn’t show, she began to worry. Another glance at her watch, 20:23. She seized her phone breaking a promise she’d made to not call him.
It was ringing.
No answer.
At last she snatched her jacket and Gucci bag, headed outside. Her driver took her to the Viceroy. On the drive across Manhattan she thought of wild conspiracies, that Mike was bored of her, that he had another lover. But in her heart she knew something was wrong, Mike loved her, and must have suffered some catastrophe in order to have missed dinner.
It took 30 minutes to make the drive, she saw the lights, and jumped out the Mercedes. Scurrying to the front desk she gasped, “Room 438.”
The attendant dialled the room. Tatiana was glad the receptionist didn’t ask questions; she wasn’t in the mood for it.
“Hello Mr Smith. There is a Miss--”
“--Tatiana”
“Tatiana here for you.”
Silence
“Ok Sir.” Tatiana essayed the receptionist as she put down the phone. “He says to go up.”
Tatiana smiled, pushed the elevator button. It seemed to take an eternity for the lift to drop; she pushed the fourth floor, and checked her look in the stainless steel facade.
YOU ARE READING
Tatiana
Cerita PendekMike is a gifted chess player, but he's long since given up on life. He doesn't see the point in doing anything anymore. It isn't until he meets a pre-eminent ballerina - Tatiana - that he finally begins to understand. But it is perhaps too late. Co...
