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“The police will catch him.”

“That scum always covers his tracks, Alma.”

“No one else heard him?”

“No one.” He clears his throat, running a hand over his neck. “But that wasn’t the end of our conversation—which is why I’m in this state.”

“Tell me,” I whisper.

“He talked to me about Volodia. You know, my father…” His voice cracks, and his body tenses like a coiled spring.

I remember that name, of course, but Vadim almost never says it out loud. I wrap my arms around him, trying to soothe the old wounds this has reopened.

“The two of them were best friends. They left Russia at the same time, to go live the American dream, change their lives, become actors.” Vadim pauses. He stares intently into the distance, as though by doing so he could somehow travel back in time and glimpse his father.

“Go on…”

“Dimitri told me that my father was like me. That he wanted to succeed, to shine, but refused to bend the rules, cheat, or even just get his hands dirty. And that because of that, he didn’t deserve his success. He said that my father landed role after role without really having to fight for them, and that made people jealous. He said he should have given it all up instead of trying to survive in the cutthroat world of Hollywood. Instead of thinking he could take on dangerous men.”

“Who was he talking about?”

“No idea. But right before he left, he stared at me for a long time, with a kind of calculating glint in his eyes, and he said…” He takes a deep breath, as to prepare himself for something painful.

“What did he say?”

“That if you’re too good, you become weak and mediocre, and that mediocre people have no place on this earth.”

“He’s a dumb, old bastard! He knows nothing, Vadim. He doesn’t know you.”

“I almost punched him in the face, but that’s when he stood up. He put a hand on my shoulder, gave me his fakest smile, then whispered something along the lines of, ‘Volodia shouldn’t have gotten in my way. I warned him.’ Then, he left.”

“Wait, he was trying to tell you that…?”

Vadim is trembling, and so am I.

“That this is why my parents are dead. I knew it, Alma. I was sure of it! He killed them… And he wanted me to know it.”

I’m speechless.

“Vadim, I… I’m so sorry life has been so cruel to you. You don’t deserve any of this.”

With amazing tenderness, he lifts my chin and looks into my eyes. “Don’t worry about me, Alma. I’ll get him. I’m not going to stop. Dimitri Monkov will eventually slip up, and when he does, he will pay for it. I’m going to bring him down, so low he won’t ever get back up.”

49

Alma

Vadim is so busy these days that, inevitably, his ever-present best friend is becoming… mine.

This Saturday afternoon, I flee Felix and his endless monologues to go do my last-minute Christmas shopping with Lily. It’s a serious challenge this close to the holidays, but I manage to find the gifts I was missing.

Then, I return to the tranquility of my apartment, which is a welcome contrast to the complete madness reigning in the department stores. Despite the fact that it’s only 9 p.m., I’m not far from calling it a night when someone knocks on the door.

“Lily, are you expecting someone?”

“No one! I only have people over when you’re not here,” she says, laughing.

It turns out to be Vadim and Felix standing outside the door. Vadim laughs at my confused expression and gives me a quick kiss, his arms full of takeout bags. Then, he heads to the kitchen, where I hear him greet my sister. Felix just stands there, looking as though he’s waiting for me to invite him in.