Everyone outside L.A. seems to think people who live here are always at the beach, but that’s not true. The beach is for the rich and the surfer bums. Going often is too complicated and expensive for the rest of us.
“That’s the spirit.” He shoots a disarming grin at me over his shoulder, a flash of white teeth and a sparkle in his eye. “Looking on the bright side.”
“I’m not so sure you can call it a bright side,” I say.
“Ah, well, at least you don’t have to cook for yourself.”
Vasya ushers me into the kitchen to find a plump woman in brown polyester pants and a large-print floral shirt at the enormous island. Her graying blond hair is wrapped around her head in a thick braided roll, and the cold, unfriendly look in her eyes when she glances at me makes me want to shrink back.
“Alona?” I ask Vasya in a whisper.
“Alona,kak dela?” Vasya asks the woman how she’s doing, an indirect answer to my question.
Her glare slides from me to Vasya. She grunts in reply and looks back down at the dough she’s been kneading without pause, her big hands steady and sure, her thick forearms corded with a surprising amount of muscle.
Vasya indicates one of the stools pulled up to the island before sliding into one himself. “Sit.”
I’m about to ask how we get breakfast when Alona turns from her bread dough to the enormous chef’s fridge. She pulls out several plastic-wrap-covered plates and a carton of eggs. Her movements are quick and efficient, and before I know it, sitting in front of me are eggs, coffee, toasted rye bread, andsirniki, a delicious type of cheese pancakes, with sour cream and black currant jam to top them off.
I can barely stop myself from inhaling it. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was, especially after barely eating anything for days, or how much I missed the taste of a traditional Russian breakfast.
“Amazing, right?” Vasya asks with a grin before stuffing half asirnikinto his mouth.
“Incredible,” I agree. “I haven’t had these for years.”
“You’ve had them before? These aren’t exactly on every diner or brunch menu.”
It’s my turn to grin at Vasya’s puzzlement. “First of all, I’m not a brunch person. Second of all, my dad is Russian. He used to make these for us on Sunday mornings.”
“Used to?” Vasya catches the operative word, his eyebrows arching into a question.
“He stopped after—” I pause, taking a deep breath, “—after my mom died. He stopped doing much of anything, really.”
Our conversation pauses as Vasya chews and considers my admission, his gaze lifting to the ceiling. He drops his eyes to mine. “And he didn’t teach you how to make them?”
The question catches me off guard. I thought I’d be fending off pity or apologies or more questions about her death.
“No,” I say, swallowing my current bite.
“And your mom didn’t teach you?”
Alona has cooked the eggs perfectly, their golden-orange centers oozing out, and the black currant jam on thesirnikitastes homemade. I dip my rye bread into the soft yolk and tear off the piece before I answer.
“Mom was second-generation Spanish-American, so she didn’t know anything about Russian cooking.”
“That makes sense.” Vasya nods to himself as he takes a sip of black coffee, as though he’s agreeing with an unvoiced thought.
“What does?”
“Your dark hair. Dark eyes. The olive skin tone. That sexy, exotic thing you have going on. Makes sense now that I know you’re half Spanish.”
I stare at Vasya, fork halfway to my mouth before my cheeks start burning. I look away, trading the fork for a coffee cup to hide my embarrassment.
He only chuckles, but he doesn’t press any further.
I still have no idea what his relation to Evgeny is, but Vasya is a world away from the dark, brooding, scarred beast keeping me captive in his home. He’s charming and funny in an entirely appealing way.
Maybe that’s why I’m telling Vasya all of this. I don’t know him, and even if he isn’t part of the Kucherov Bratva, he’s clearly part of the inner circle to call the boss by a nickname. I should be quiet and keep information about my family to myself. But his is the first friendly face I’ve seen in nearly a week. Besides, Evgeny already showed me that he knew everything about my family.
