Chapter 24

Vika was getting to be a royal pain in the ass. “We must have balloons and cake and presents,” she said breathlessly.

Eggy rolled his eyes. “That’s not how we do it here in Latvia.”

“Well, bully for you!” Vika shot back. “We’re going to change all that. We’ll have a real birthday party. Simone deserves nothing less. How many candles?”

Vika didn’t wait for an answer. She supplied her own. “Just one single candle. That’s how we celebrate for women of a certain age.” She stopped to give a coy little burst of laughter, remembering that, in France, “certain age” had an erotic meaning. It did give her pause to realize that they were all (including Vika) in the forty-to-sixty age range, although she herself self-identified as being thirty.

Now she was all business. “I’m calling Sam’s. I want a good table, a nice dinner, champagne and a cake. I’ll leave the balloons and clowns up to you. So, toodle-loo. I’ll see you tonight.”

Eggy laughed and rang off with a simple ciao.

* * *

Vika had tried to keep her mood up-beat, using this dinner party to distract her from worrying about her mother back in New York—with Bernie standing over her like a jailor.

She liked to spend money lavishly. Money hadn’t been a problem since her marriage to Bernie. In fact, it was the very reason she had married him in the first place. She had wisely salted a large amount into her own private (secret) bank account and she was determined to spend it now. On others, as well as on herself.

* * *

Vika wasn’t disappointed. The table she had reserved was decorated with a vase of fresh flowers and candles. She had made sure to arrive first. A floral masterpiece, she was at her best, wearing a multicolored embroidered jacket over a dove grey silk blouse, coupled with dark slacks. Her gift to Simone was a fat envelope stuffed with euros which she planned to drop  into Simone’s pocket at just the right moment.

Misha, bobbling and smiling, hovered around with his silky friendliness. He especially liked this rich and attractive American lady and couldn’t do enough to make her happy. Would she ever consent to a rendez vous?

His romantic musing was interrupted by the arrival of the guest of honor, on the arm of her escort. Misha beamed a huge smile in their direction. He was ready with his happy birthdays both in Latvian and in English. It was hard to outshine Vika. And Simone certainly didn’t. She was wearing a heavy knit sweater over a dark blue turtle neck and dark pants. Eggy was equally turtlenecked and sporting his signature tight-fitting trousers.

Brushing aside Misha’s greeting, Simone scanned the room. Where was Arsy? This was every girl’s dream birthday party but the most important person in her life wasn’t there.

The waiter (who wasn’t Arsy), pulled out two chairs and invited the guests to sit. The dinner was the best the chef had to offer— Chateaubriand and assorted vegetables. Tender red meat was still a delicacy in Latvia and it had been prepared to perfection. Happy ummm sounds all around. The meal was delicious.

When the cake was brought out, with one candle blazing, the entire room clapped and burst forth with Happy Birthday!—both in English and Latvian.

Simone was blushing with the surprise and the attention she was getting. But where was Arsy? Could he be late for work? She hadn’t asked about him yet.

Misha was prowling around the table, hoping to ingratiate himself, when Simone motioned to him. She couldn’t wait any longer.

“Where is Arsy?”

Misha shrugged. “Arsy? I don’t know. He gave his notice, then changed his mind, then disappeared.”

Simone looked at him with suspicion. “Disappeared! That can’t be. He was with us when—”

She stopped, alerted by Eggy who had given her a swift kick under the table. To distract her, he refilled her glass. Toasted her once again.

Swallowing her disappointment, Simone drained her glass in a few rapid gulps. Arsy! Why aren’t you here? It’s my birthday!

Vika was the one who got up first. On her way to the ladies’ room she stopped to settle the bill. She was pleased things had gone well and she was especially gratified by Simone’s squeals of surprise as she clutched the envelope Vika had secreted into her pocket. It felt good to make someone so happy.

* * *

It was a pleasant night. Nice big moon. Stars too. And not terribly cold. Eggy and Simone had decided to walk Vika back to the Hotel de Rome. Maybe some cognac at the hotel bar. That would make a nice nightcap after a successful celebration.

A squeal of breaks. A car almost up on the sidewalk. All three of them stopped in their tracks. Vika clutched at her mouth not to scream. They had almost been hit.

A man leapt out of the car and, running up to Vika, grabbed her arm.

“Mrs Zito. Don’t go back to the hotel!”

Vika pulled back and gasped in amazement. This was that same short Italian she had seen on the flight. The same man she had recognized in Osiris the other day. Tonight he looked pale and disheveled.

Vika’s heart was beating like a drum. “What’s going on?”

“Oh. you must…” Frankie was out of breath. He could hardly get his words out. “You must hide. Bernie’s business partner here in Latvia is looking for you. He wants some package. He’s dangerous.”

The cab driver honked, which made Frankie run back to pay him. Then back to Vika and her friends.

“Please go somewhere else. It’s not safe for you. I’ll hang around. See who goes into the hotel. I’m good at following people.” At that he let out a choked laughter which bordered on hysteria.

Vika’s mouth dropped open. “But what about my stuff? Do I have to just leave everything? Where am I supposed to stay?” She thought with a sense of panic about Svetlana’s briefcase and the contents of her safe.

“No, no. Don’t worry. Here’s my phone number. Call me and I’ll let you know what’s happening.”

Both Vika and Eggy turned to look at Simone. A pocket full of euros and champagne bubbling in her brain, she shrugged and stretched out her hands in a “whatever” gesture.

The mule ranch would be pretty crowded. The whole gang would be there—the whole gang without Arsy.

Without hesitation, Eggy let out a sharp whistle and waved his arms. Luckily he had caught the cab before it  pulled away.

No one looked back at Frankie who was was left behind, panting, clutching at his heart and wondering if there was a witness protection program in Latvia.