Around midnight Elizaveta asked Jesus if he was ready to leave. He wasn’t. He was surrounded by admirers hanging on to his every word, most holding one of his brewery’s beers in their hands. Tired of talking to strangers, she decided to walk along the beach. The night was cool and dry. The ocean droned on endlessly while waves lapped gently at her bare feet. She walked for close to thirty minutes, and she was on her way back to the beach house when she ran into Pita and Nitro. She didn’t know it was them at first. They were little more than amorphous shapes on the sand beneath a palm tree. Then she heard Pita speaking in that throaty voice of hers, and Nitro replying in that gruff way of his. Elizaveta froze, dumbstruck. She was contemplating whether to make her presence known, to ask them what they were doing out here, when she realized they weren’t merely talking; they were making out. She hurried back to the party, told Jesus she wasn’t feeling well, and took a taxi home.

She’d seen Pita and Nitro at parties together three times since, but Jack had been present at each one. She’d been tempted to confront Pita, or even tell Jack what she’d witnessed. She didn’t, because she’d been hoping it had been a one-time thing, a drunken fling. For a while it seemed this might be the case until last night at Jack’s place. Jack had been inside refilling his drink, and Pita had been trying to convince Jesus to invite Nitro to the Island of the Dolls the next day. Jesus didn’t want to, given the animosity between Nitro and Jack. Pita, however, was persistent, arguing that Jack was so drunk he likely wouldn’t even get up in the morning. So Jesus rang Nitro, who confirmed he would come on the spot.

Again, Elizaveta didn’t confront Pita. It wasn’t her business to intervene. Besides, these types of things, romantic affairs, never remained secret for long. Jack would discover Pita’s infidelity on his own. It was simply a matter of time.