Page 21 of Mr. Match

But West is the one who answers. “It was a gift,” he says.

“From who?” It’s not her, I tell myself. It’s not her, it’s not her. Every one of these college kids in this town probably drinks Stoli…

“It was in the apartment.”

“My dad’s place?” Hmmm.

“Yup. What’s that condo for, anyway?” Pax asks. “Just a crash pad so he doesn’t have to drive home late at night?”

“Yeah,” I say, still thinking about that bottle. “He’s had it longer than I’ve been alive. Usually he rents it to students but he kicked the last tenants out for partying too much and hasn’t bothered to put it on the market again.”

“Fucking college kids,” Mac says, still looking up at the TV.

“So,” West says.

“So,” the rest of us say back.

“Where the hell is Five?” Pax asks.

“Why would he be here?” I say, pouring myself a drink.

“Um,” Mac says. “Why wouldn’t he be here? I mean, he shows up every other time we seem to have a meeting.”

“Yeah, and we’re in his town,” West says. “So we figured he’d be around.”

“His town?” I laugh into my glass as I drink. “He doesn’t live here.”

“What do you mean?” Mac asks. “Sure he does.”

I squint my eyes at Mac. “Did he tell you that?”

“No. But… you guys are family, right?”

“He’s ten years older than me, man. He doesn’t hang out with me. It’s just business.”

“He doesn’t live here?” Pax asks, going all serious on me. “Where the fuck does he live?”

“I dunno.” I shrug. “He lives all over, I guess. He’s got a house in Vail, I know that. Some place in London, I’m pretty sure.”

“How could you not know where your… fucking… whatever he is, lives?” Pax asks.

“He’s, like, barely a cousin. Our parents are friends. And like I said, he’s ten years older than me. We’ve never been, like… buddies. We don’t hang out, for fuck’s sake. I call him when I need him. And up until this past year, that wasn’t very often.”

“Hmmm,” they all say together.

“That’s weird,” Mac says.

“Whatever,” I say, already bored with this shit. All I want to do is go back to my office and watch that video of Katya over and over and over again. Plan my next move. What will I say? Should I make another video? Find her phone number? Should I go up to that apartment two buildings over and knock on the door?

“Oliver?” Pax is saying.

“What?”

“Jesus Christ, are we boring you? Can’t keep up with the conversation?”

“Just zoning out. What do you want from me?”

“So nothing weird going on here?” West says, taking over.