Broken Promises

"We didn't," Roy admitted. "I dropped her off before the curfew your Dad had set. All I got was a kiss at the entrance to your building."

She stubbed out the rest of her cig.

"Try explaining that to my teenaged mind. You and her. Her and you. The two people I loved the most in the world and you loved each other more than you loved me. She barely had a conversation that wasn't about you and you treated me as wallpaper. You never saw me. You never saw that I might want to touch you and hold your hand too. Who wants to touch the bad apple?"

"I had no idea you felt that way."

"The worst of it was the day our mother overdosed. You rushed over to comfort Sofia. She was crying so much. Did you ever stop to think she was not the only one who walked in on her body in the kitchen? I was there too and I was trying to appear weak, hoping I would get your attention. I was crying in my own little corner waiting for you to comfort me too. To hold my face in your hands and wipe my tears and tell me everything was going to be fine and that you loved me. You did all this for Sofia. Friends, family, everyone came, but you never let go of her once. Not even once."

She stared wistfully at the water trailing down the glass.

"Being a bad girl was cool, right? You'd surely notice. Shoplift some cologne, jack a car and take it around the block. Maybe you'd hear about this and come tell me how cool it was. But you didn't. You weren't that sort of guy. You were funny, sweet, sensitive and everything I was not. Every time you looked away from me in the same room, it felt like another rejection. Yet another in a long line of rejections."

They were interrupted by a flash of lightning that lit up the whole room. Roy looked to see Tatiana's reaction. Sofia would have been terrified of it, but Tatiana stared out unfazed even as the crack of thunder made the glass shudder.

"When you came to me and begged for my help, it was almost too good to be true. After a lifetime of being rejected by you, here you were, on your knees asking for me to be part of your life. I couldn't tell you, but I wanted nothing more than to meet Joe and Donna right then. You have no idea how much I want all three of you to want me in your lives."

Tatiana smiled when she saw Roy on the couch with his head in his hands. This was not how she envisioned telling him.

"The night before last, when you rejected my gift to you, I overreacted. I had thought you were mine now. You would never again spurn me. But there you were, calling me a monster and a psychopath. Suddenly, I was a teenager again and you could only ignore me or look at me with pity."

"Well... it was the first time someone gave me a gun and asked me to shoot another man."

"In hindsight, I see how that was misguided to say the least. But you still don't get to call me a monster. Others can and I don't care. The corporate types in their pantsuits who live in Scarsdale and work on Wall Street. Who have once a month missionary with their wives under the covers with the lights off at night and twice a week with their secretaries in motels. Their wives who are obsessed with pilates and yoga and exchanging scandalous gossip with each other over sherry and tapas. They can call me whatever they want, but not you. Not after you know what I have been through that has led to this point in my life. I was angry at you and I took it out on that poor man."

She stood up and walked over to Roy. Her hand went under his chin and forced his face upwards as she bent down until their eyes were inches apart in the near darkness. A flash of thunder illuminated her face a brilliant white.

"You don't get to say that to me ever again. If you do, I will forget you are the father of my sister's kids. I promise you on Sofia's grave that the next time you judge me by your noble standards, I will kill you. I will kill you in ways that will make what happened to John Wesley Duncan look like a Disney movie."

* *

"Granite is cheaper and sparkles more, but I still like the idea of having the floor redone with marble."

Tatiana looked at Roy, waiting for an answer. A few designers and contractors around her kept flipping to a different page to show an alternate option for tiling the floor.

"Earth to Roy?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Do you want the floor in marble or granite?" she repeated. "The granite looks shinier, but the marble goes better with the theme."

"Marble, sure."

"You heard him. Marble for the floors. Only Modena marble though, not some cheap ass white rock."

She turned back to Roy.

"I'm thinking we go from the floors all the way up to the countertops where the wait staff will pick up their orders. Give the place some old country rustic elegance."

"Whatever you want."

She gave her instructions to the workers before whisking Roy away towards the kitchen. He was literally dragged through the doors.

"What's the matter with you?" she yelled into his ear once they were alone. "We open next weekend and we're way behind schedule. All that expensive furniture is sitting in the shop because our damn floor isn't yet ready."

"I'm sure they're doing the best they can."

"They might be, but you aren't. You're distracted," she said angrily. "It's like you don't even care what the floor is going to look like."

She leaned closer and looked at him accusingly.

"Have you had any more to drink?"

"No. God no. I haven't even looked at a bottle since."

"Then?"

"What you told me that night? I've been thinking about it a lot."

"Don't worry, dorogoi moy," she said calmly. "I dredged up a lot of bitter memories. I don't think I'll actually kill you. Although, to be safe, try and not call me a monster. Depending on my mood, I might react poorly."

"I have kids now. Please don't hurt me."

"Can we not talk about it?" she snapped. "You keep your judgement to yourself and you're good with me. We have a restaurant launch to salvage. All our sacrifices will have been for nothing if Saviano's is not ready in time for the grand reopening. My friends on social media have ensured it is the hottest ticket in the culinary world. All that publicity will backfire spectacularly if we're not ready on time."

* *

Saviano's was emblazoned across the brick and mortar front of the building in blue neon. No one could drive past it without their head turning to read the loopy cursive font. If it piqued anyone's curiosity, they might try and get a reservation for the next month, because Tatiana's aggressive social media minions had ensured the first month was sold out on hype alone. It was almost as if patrons were convinced they would get the screenplay for Avengers Endgame along with their menu.

"What do you think?" she asked. Roy peered down over the edge, amazed at how unrecognisable the place he had grown up in looked. The private booth was strategically placed overlooking the main floor of the restaurant, yet hidden from view of anyone looking up.

"The last time there were that many people, Sofia was still here. I hardly even recognize it from a couple of months ago."

Tatiana had dressed up all in blue once more. Her hands were on top of Roy's palms.

"Is this our second date or are we not counting the one where it ended badly?"

"I want to forget that last date ever happened."

"Me too," admitted Tatiana. "Well... not all of it. I liked the dinner and the kiss we shared on the pavement. However, I would like to apologize again for how the night ended."

Roy looked over the railing once more, taking in the milling crowd animatedly talking at their tables.

"Who did you invite?"

"Mainly important food bloggers and critics. The staff knows who the ones are to be given special treatment. There are also several social media celebrities down there."

She followed his gaze downwards.

"See that woman by the far wall? Her name is Rielle Wainwright. She has over six million Instagram followers and close to that number on Twitter as well. There are actual A-listers with less. She gets a hundred thousand dollars to take selfies drinking energy drinks. Think of it, every positive selfie she takes here will go to over six million potential customers."

His jaw hung open at her words.

"Two tables over is Penny Jorgensen. She has over fifteen million Instagram and Twitter followers for her stand-up comedy and political channel. If she says this place is hip, the Internet will tend to agree. Sitting across the table from her is her current boyfriend and VC celebrity, Bernie Bernstein..."

"I get the general idea," Roy said. "Do you know all of them?"

"Not directly, but I do know their agents. It took some doing, but I could get them all under one roof. Some took more effort than others."

She pointed at a tall, attractive woman by the glass front who had a small gaggle of admirers on the pavement outside with their phones out.

"Do you recognize her?"

"Is that Elena Calderon? I didn't even know she was in New York, much less at my restaurant."

"Well, she flew in from Barcelona two days ago to do some promotional shoots for Dior and Versace. See that dress and that Balenciaga bag she's showing off for the cameras? They were supposed to make their debut at the upcoming Met gala. I convinced her to flaunt them here instead. Just having your humble establishment in the same news article as her is going to do wonders for your brand."

"Do I want to know how you convinced her?"

"I may or may not have a sex tape of hers which she would rather the world not see. It doesn't capture her best side."

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised," said Roy. "In the short time I've known you, you've made me an accomplice in two murders and a money launderer and threatened to kill me twice. Blackmail seems passé to me now."

"Like I said, you always had a choice," she replied plainly, twisting her fork through several strands of spaghetti. "Maybe not the last one, but all the rest. I hate stuff I had bottled up for so long came out like that. It was ugly and undignified."

"Not to mention it made you kill Mr Duncan and threaten to do the same to me if I ever judged you again."

"We do not judge the people we love. Do you know who said that?"

"I'm guessing Sartre. It's not like you to have a conversation without bringing him up."

"Look at you sitting across a table from me and not pissing yourself with fear. You've come a long way since that night you first came to me asking for money."

"No surprises there. The last two months have changed me in ways I could not have imagined."

"I wouldn't necessarily say that. You still own a restaurant and you're still the father of two children. The important parts are still the same. The rest of it, who knows? Maybe you always had it in you."

"I most definitely did not."

She smiled as she sliced into her smoked branzino.

"If you really think about it," she said, sipping on her Chardonnay. "If you hadn't rejected my advances growing up, I wouldn't be who I am now. You changed my life. More than twenty years later, I'm simply returning the favour."

Her tone was the same as it would have been had she been talking about the weather. She took out her phone and checked out a few pages.

"Looks like #Savianos is trending everywhere. If this keeps up, you will be booked full for the next year at least. If all goes well, by the time tonight is over, this will officially be the coolest place in all five boroughs."

She looked at him, smiling herself when she saw the smile on his face. He looked so much better than the wreck of a man who had begged her for money in the recent past.

"I want us to go back to where we were on our last date. Before you met Mr Duncan. When you wrapped your arms around and kissed me. Is that even possible?"

"I don't know," he admitted, wiping his mouth on a serviette. "Since then, you've shown a side of yourself that I can't just ignore."

"Again, I'm really sorry you had to see all that. That side was always there, I just did a better job of hiding it from you."

She held his hands in her own.

"I would never bring that part of my life to you or your children. Ever."

"So you keep saying."

She put her spoon and fork down and looked at him. Under his calm demeanour, he seemed to be bristling with resentful defiance.

"All right, finish up fast. You're coming with me."

"Where?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out. I have tried apologizing to you every way I know how, but you continue to behave like a child. It seems to me there is only way to settle this, only one way we can move forward. Eat your pastrami and then come with me."

There was nothing in her tone to indicate Roy had any other choice. They finished their meal in relative silence before she led him downstairs and out the back entrance where her car was waiting.

"Get in."

He complied as the car turned the corner onto the main road. He saw the back of a man in a dark hoodie standing before of the side wall of his restaurant with a spray can in hand. He shook it in preparation of whatever artwork he had in mind. The car sped off before he could get a better look.

"Shouldn't we call the cops?" asked Roy, reaching for his phone. Tatiana held his hand.

"Not needed. I asked him to do what he's doing and my men are standing near him in case someone calls the cops."

"I don't understand," he replied. "You asked that man to vandalize my restaurant wall with graffiti?"

"Yes, and once he is done, your restaurant will never need any more publicity again."

She looked at his bewildered face for a few moments before breaking into laughter.

"That man is Banksy, you uncultured durak. He is going to leave a personally signed artwork on the side of your building."

His eyes went wide and his jaw hung slackly. She gently put her hand under his chin and closed his mouth.

"It pays to have as many connections in the art world as I do."

"Do you know his real name?" Roy finally croaked out.

"I do, but why spoil the fun for others?"

* *

"When you said settle this, I didn't know this is what you were talking about?"

"Not a big stretch," she said calmly, looping the tape around her knuckles once more. Satisfied, she put on pair of gloves and looked over at him.

"Have you forgotten how this is done?"

"I only went to the matches because of my Dad. This was never my scene."

Tatiana rolled her wrists and loosened her shoulders one last time.

"Remember in our freshman year of high school how Edward Schulman was mad at Bobby Perrineau for tattling to Amy Landis' Dad that they were going out? They didn't so much as raise a voice at each other at school, but met up at the park afterwards to settle it. Both of them had lost a few teeth and got a few cuts by the time the patrol cops intervened."

"I fail to see how that was a teachable moment."

"We may be adults now, but our biology isn't that different. We still get this rush of adrenaline whenever we fight for what we feel is right. We need this. Eddie and Bobby went back to being best friends the week after their fight. Despite what the adults said, they needed to get it all out to move past their fight."

She got on one knee and turned her face to offer her left cheek out.

"I hurt you so you get a free shot. Take it."

Roy sat on the stool in his corner, not daring to step towards her.

"Take the shot, Roy. For all the terrible things I have done to you and made you do."

She waited patiently, but it became abundantly clear that the punch was not forthcoming.

"This is ridiculous," he said getting up. "We're not kids any more. A fight isn't going to solve our problems."

"Are you scared of me, Roy?" she taunted. "Come on. I'm giving you a free hit."

"And I'm not taking it," he said flatly. "One of us has to be the grown-up here and I guess that would be me. I'm doing the mature thing of walking away. You... knock yourself out."

With that, he turned and headed towards the ropes. All of a sudden, he felt his legs give way under him as a leg sweep flattened him on the ring floor. He was hoisted up by his shoulders until he was sitting upright. Tatiana was behind him, one arm wrapped around his neck and pressing against the underside of his chin and the other locked behind his head.

"Fair enough," she whispered into his ear. "You won't take your chance to get even with me, but I will take my chance to get even with you."

She pressed her chokehold tighter, making him cough and gasp a bit.

"Let me do this and all will be forgiven, lyubov moya. Everything from when we were kids up to and including your less than flattering words that night in my penthouse. You will never need to be scared of me again. Promise."

She loosened her hold to allow him to catch his breath. He breathed heavily for a few moments while his brain came to terms with what she said.

"Not where Joe and Donna can see it."

"Got it," she said, letting go of him. He lay flat on his back while she straddled him and placed her gloved hands on his chest.

"I'll do my best not to break any bones, but there will be bruising. Are you sure you want to go through with it?"

He nodded weakly. Tatiana grinned and jammed a hand under his jaw to force him to look away.

"I have killed people with my bare hands before. I know how to make it hurt for now and I know how I to make it hurt forever. I'm going to do my best to make it the former."

With that, she slammed her gloved fist into the canvas.

"This will not be pretty," she said, raising her hand. She brought it down on his solar plexus with a sharp blow which knocked the wind out of his lungs. Even as he gasped and wheezed desperately, she bent down to lock his lips in hers. The delicate ardency of the kiss was a complete contrast the impact on his chest which had now mellowed to a dull burn.

"Thank you for this, Roy," she said and raised her gloved fist once more.

* *

"Take off your shirt."

Roy actually winced as he slid the sleeves off his shoulders. For a beating that did not leave him permanently maimed, it still hurt like a bitch. Tatiana held his collar and helped take the shirt off him. Satisfied, she stood over his sitting form and inspected his torso.

"Nothing's broken that I can tell. A few bruises here and there, maybe some swelling later on, but nothing that will still be here in a few days."

She stuck a finger into the side of his ribs and made him emit a short grunt of pain.

"Yeah, that will hurt in the morning. Lie on your back."

Businesslike as always, Tatiana took a can of numbing spray and shook it before aiming the nozzle for his ribs. She liberally sprayed her target before moving upwards. Roy closed his eyes and felt the cooling relief of the liniment spread over him. Finally, Tatiana put the spray down.

"The kids are fast asleep. I just checked on them."

"It's a school night, so they'd better be."

She stood over his supine form as she let the cold comfort alleviate his suffering.

"Like a phoenix from the ashes, Saviano's has risen, from being on the verge of shutting down as recently as two months ago, to the triumph of the culinary world with its lavish interiors, revitalized menu and incredible service."

Roy opened his eyes to see Tatiana reading on her phone.

"Carlos Delgado, food critic for the Times. I don't think he's ever given a place more than four stars, but Saviano's got five. His review has already been shared a half a million times."

She looked proudly at the other mentions of #Savianos. It was more than she could have hoped for.

"So," she started. "You should probably prepare for a few press events over the next couple of weeks. We've already gotten interest from several of the big publications. Apparently, everyone likes the story of an underdog fighting their way back from the brink."