she finally answered after the fifth ring, and could swear she heard a second click on the line, as if someone had picked up the extension in her study, living room or kitchen.
‘How’s my favorite superstar?’
Katia smiled. ‘Hi Dad.’
‘Hi there, baby. So how was the tour?’
‘Fantastic, but extremely exhausting.’
‘I bet. I read the reviews. Everyone loves you.’
Katia smiled. ‘I’m so looking forward to two weeks of no rehearsals, no concerts, and certainly no parties.’ She made her way out of her bedroom and onto the mezzanine that overlooked her spacious living room.
‘But you have some time for your old man, right?’
‘I always have time for you when I’m not touring, Dad. You’re the one who’s always so busy, remember?’ she challenged.
He chuckled. ‘OK, OK, don’t rub it in. I’ll tell you what. I can tell you’re tired by your voice, how about you have an early night and we catch up over lunch tomorrow?’
Katia hesitated. ‘What are we talking about here, Dad? One of your quick “I gotta go, let’s grab a sandwich” deals, or a proper sit-down, three-course, no-cells-allowed lunch?’
Leonid Kudrov was one of the most famous film producers in the USA. His lunch engagements usually never lasted more than thirty minutes, which Katia knew well.
There was a small pause and this time Katia was sure she heard a click on the line. ‘Dad, are you still there?’
‘I’m here, baby. And I’ll take option number two, please.’
‘I mean it, Dad. If we’re having a proper lunch, there’ll be no phone calls, and you’re not rushing away after half an hour.’
‘No cells, I promise. I’ll clear my afternoon schedule. And you can pick the restaurant.’
Katia’s smile was more animated this time. ‘OK. How about we meet at Mastro’s Steak House in Beverly Hills at one o’clock?’
‘Great choice,’ her father agreed. ‘I’ll make the reservation.’
‘And you won’t be late, will you, Dad?’
‘Of course not, honey. You’re my superstar, remember? Look, I gotta go. An important call just came in.’
Katia shook her head. ‘What a surprise.’
‘Have a good sleep, darling. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘See you tomorrow, Dad.’ She rang off and placed the receiver in her bathrobe pocket.
Taking the stairs down to the living room, Katia made her way into the kitchen. She felt like having a glass of wine, something to relax her even more. She selected a bottle of Sancerre from the fridge. As she fumbled inside one of the worktop drawers for the corkscrew, the phone in her pocket rang again.
‘Hello?’
‘How’s my favorite superstar?’
Katia frowned.
Nine
‘Oh please, tell me you’re not cancelling on me already, Dad?’ Katia wasn’t impressed.
‘Dad?’
Katia suddenly realized that the voice at the other end of the line wasn’t her father’s. ‘Who is this?’
‘Not your daddy.’
‘Phillip, is that you?’
Phillip Stein was the new conductor for the Los Angeles Philharmonic, and Katia’s latest affair. They’d been seeing each other for four months, but three days before the end of the tour they’d gotten into a heated argument. Phillip had fallen head over heels for Katia, and wanted her to move in with him. Katia liked Phillip and she had enjoyed their affair, but certainly not with the same intensity as he did. She wasn’t ready for that type of commitment, not now. She had hinted at the idea that maybe they should take a few days off from seeing each other – just to see how things panned out. Phillip hadn’t taken the suggestion well, throwing a tantrum and conducting the worst concerto of his career that night. They hadn’t spoken since.
‘Phillip? Who’s Phillip? Is that your boyfriend?’ the voice asked.
Katia shivered.
‘Who is this?’ she asked again, firmer this time.
Silence.
An uncomfortable sensation made the hairs on the back of Katia’s neck stand on end. ‘Look, I think you dialed the