“I’ll work on it.”
“So lemme give you the lay of the land.” She hiked her thumb over her shoulder. “At that table, we have three bridesmaids. Polly’s the corn-fed-looking blonde, and the only one worth mentioning. The other two are lame and their invites make me wonder where Natalie’s head’s at. The three uptight guys are Russian groomsmen. My charm is lost on them, so obviously they’re nobodies—guys who did hits with Aleks or some such shit.”
Whoa, she was talking about his hit man background aloud? Just like that?
She continued, “I was surprised by the turnout, since Natalie gave us zero notice about this shindig. The rest of the crowd is extended family of Rebecca and Natalie’s adoptive dad.”
“Where is he?”
“He died. Natural causes. Not like her birth father.”
Across the table, Rebecca said, “So, Cat, is your name short for Catherine?”
Máxim’s gaze was lasered on me.
“They just call me Cat.” I had a crazy impulse to stand on the table and shout to everyone, “I am Lucía Martinez! I was born and raised in JAX, baby!”
“Well, it’s a cute name.”
Jess said, “Your name doesn’t suck too bad, Becks.”
Rebecca ignored her, asking me, “Why don’t you tell us about yourself?”
Máxim turned his chair and faced me.
Dodge and deflect? Bobbing and weaving was difficult in the hot seat. “I’m about to finish college.”
“Oh, where do you go?” she asked.
“It’s a small private school.” Máxim would think I was lying, believing I’d denied going to college.
“You and Maksim met in Miami, right? What brought you there?”
“I like the city very much. I’m keeping my eye out for new opportunities there.” Not a lie.
“How long have you two been together?”
He smoothly interjected, “Not long enough. How could it be?”
Charming devil. I tasted my old-fashioned. Not bad.
“What’s your major?” Natalie asked.
“Business. Economics major, finance minor.” Too much information was flowing from me! I felt like a miser flinging away coins.
Máxim raised his brows, sipping his drink.
Natalie looked impressed. “I can’t even do simple sums in my head. Business was forever out of my reach.”
“But you’re getting your PhD, right? Who needs simple sums when there are calculators?”
“That’s what I’ve always said!”
Jess said, “Hey, if I sit between her and Natalie, will I get smarter? I guarantee they’ll get sexier.”
Rebecca spoke over her: “Tell us about your family, Cat.” Such a “mom” thing to say. In an arch tone, she added, “It’s like pulling teeth getting information out of any of these Russians.”
Over the rim of his glass, Máxim said, “Yes, Katya, tell us all about them.”
“My mom was from Cuba. She met my father when he visited from the US.” The weight on my chest was returning.
Servers approached with the first course, distracting the table’s attention from me. Gracias a Dios.
Under his breath, Máxim said, “How much of that was true?”
“Whatever you think is true, multiply that by ten. Oh, wait, anything multiplied by zero equals zero.”
“For future reference, a US citizen would have difficulty traveling to Cuba, especially twenty-plus years ago.”
“Thanks for the tip,” I said, instead of crying, “My father was an attaché there!” One day this boiler was going to blow. . . .
Over the next hour, the dishes continued to arrive. Some were Midwest Americana, some traditional Russian—both exotic to me. The cook in me relished the experience. When I tasted pelmeni, meat dumplings, I told Máxim, “This is really good.”
At my ear, he murmured, “I’d much rather be eating Cuban.”
I coughed and kicked him.
All throughout the meal, he kept his eyes on me. When he wasn’t indulging in the courses, he rested his arm over the back of my chair. Protective, possessive.
He wasn’t the only one studying me. Aleks seemed to be taking my measure. Even Natalie cast me a couple of quizzical looks over her wineglass.
After the dessert course—Jess inhaled her red velvet cake, then trespassed on mine—she rose, telling Máxim, “I hope you’re ready with your best-man speech. We’re doing our dog and pony shows tonight, while I’m still coherent.”
Rebecca said, “What? You can’t! Those come after the ceremony.”
Jess blinked. “No. This works best for me.” When Rebecca started to bluster, Jess said, “This is how they do it in Russia. Ask Maksim.”
Rebecca turned to him. “Is that true?”
Máxim gave a measured answer, “The most prominent Russian families fairly much do as they please.”
Jess cast her a see? look. “In any case, the wedding coordinator ordered that this happen tonight. And who is she? Oh, yeah—she’s me. Relax, Becks. Remind me to get you a Valium.”
Rebecca turned to her daughter to do something, but Natalie said, “Jess’s coup to oust the coordinator was successful, Mom. We’re slaves to her dictates now.”
Rebecca faced Jess. “What are you going to do?”
“A vid.” At that, she swerved toward the front of the hall, to a computer.
“A video?” Rebecca whispered, aghast.