“Getting seven year olds to fight your fights, are you now, Jack?”

“I’m eight,” Rosa said defiantly.

“Pita, last warning,” I said. “Move away from him.”

Her expression hovered somewhere between vexed and sulky. But after several long seconds of pointed insolence she moved away.

“We know why you killed him,” she stated.

I was growing sick of this accusation, but since I had not killed Nitro, I was curious to hear what she might have to say. “Enlighten me,” I said.

“You knew Nitro and I were having an affair.”

It wasn’t so much what she said—I’d known about the affair for the last couple of hours now—that pissed me off; it was the way she said it. She seemed proud of the fact she’d cheated on me.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,” I said.

“So you did know!”

“I told him tonight,” Elizaveta said.

“How did you know?”

“I saw you and Nitro on beach.”

“You were spying on us?”

“I went for a walk. You were there.”

“I can’t believe you’re taking Jack’s side in all this, cariño,” Jesus said. “You know me. You know I’d never murder anyone.”

“I know you stabbed Jack.”

“He attacked me.”

“You stabbed him.”

“Eliza, you’re my partner. I care for you. Come over here, join Pita and me. I’ll forget all this nonsense.”

“I can’t do that, Jesus.”

“Yes you can. Get up and come over here. Now.”

“No, Jesus.”

“Don’t say no to me.”

“No.”

“You don’t say no to me!” Jesus roared. Then, collecting himself: “You know what you’re doing, don’t you? You’re putting yourself on a one-way plane back to Russia.”

Elizaveta clamped her jaw. I did too.

Jesus was back to his usual ways, playing cheap.

“A couple of calls,” he went on. “That’s all it will take. They’ll revoke your visa and you’ll be on a plane. Is that what you want? To be a schoolteacher making piss all in Russia for the rest of your life? I can offer you so much more.”

I wanted to say something, to tell Jesus to shut his trap, to tell him he was full of it, but this wasn’t my fight. It was Elizaveta’s. She had to see through his ploy on her own.

“Offer me what?” she asked.

“Everything!” Jesus said. “As my wife, you’ll have whatever you want.”

“You’ll never marry me.”

“Of course I will. I love you.”

“He does,” Pita insisted.

“Don’t you see how ridiculous this is?” Jesus said. “You sitting over there with Jack Goff? He’s a loser. A has-been. He’s an alcoholic and a murderer—”

“Quiet.”

“Eliza—”

“Quiet!”

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