Ch. 15 Vladimir Poplov - Intake Meeting

Andrew has is 1st session with Sentinels' Defenseman Vladimir "The Russian Bear" Poplov. Andrew hears about Vladimir's early childhood traumas and marital problems and he gives him some tools.

Part 3: Wednesday, April 10, 2019

Andrew was sitting at his desk when there was a knock on his door, and Gina didn’t wait for a reply as she peeked her head in the door and announced, “Dr. Beck, Vladimir Poplov is here to see you.”

Andrew responded enthusiastically, “Great, show him in.”

Gina opened up the door and behind Gina was a large man, six foot two, at least 210 pounds, with closely cropped dirty blonde hair. He was in a polo shirt and jeans. His face was chiseled, yet somber and his eyes were blue and intense. His shoulders were wide, his waist slim and he walked with purpose, almost military in stride. If Andrew didn’t know he was a hockey player, he would have assumed he was a soldier.

Andrew got up and extended his hand as Gina made the introductions, “Mr. Poplov, this is Dr. Andrew Beck.”

Vladimir’s grip was firm, as Andrew expected it would be. Andrew smiled and gestured to Vladimir to sit on the couch as he took his place in his Eames chair. “Nice to meet you, please, have a seat.”

As Vladimir sat down, Gina gave him a warm smile and asked, “Mr. Poplov would you like some coffee, tea, or water?”

Vladimir bounced up before his butt hit the couch, like he was doing an explosive squat, and replied to Gina in English, but with a Russian accent, “No, thank you. I’m fine. Please, call me Vlad.”

Gina smiled and nodded, “Will do. I was at the Sentinel’s versus the Carolina Cougars game when you shut down Alex Vechkiev. You guys were jawing at each other pretty good all game.”

Vladimir cracked a smile from his face of granite and shook his head. “Not what you think. We were talking about families in Russia. We trained together on 2004 World Championship Team. We were only teenagers, and I’m two years younger than Lex, but coaches made me mark him during practice. Every time he scored, I did one hundred push-ups.”

Vladimir took a moment then looked down at Andrew, who was still seated. “I did lot of pushups.”

He then looked back to Gina.

“But I got to know his moves, so we match up well.”

Andrew chimed in, “What’s with the hundred-pushup thing? My father made me do a hundred push-ups if I lost a tournament.”

Vladimir paused as if he was carefully choosing his words. “Made us stronger, no?”

Gina got excited and turned to her boss. “Andrew, you should’ve seen it. The Sentinels were up by a goal with a few minutes left. Vechkiev got a pass inside the blue line, the goalie was out of position, and he hit a one-timer, a sure goal! But Vlad came from out of nowhere! He took the puck right in the chest. He saved the win!”

She raised one eyebrow above the other and jerked her head back to Vladimir. “Man, that had to hurt, huh?”

Humbly, Vladimir replied, “It was instinct. When we played together, Lex was so good, only way to stop him was throw my body in front of puck. It hurt, but less than 100 push-ups so…”

He shrugged his shoulders. But then he looked Gina in the eye and cocked his head to the side, and pointed at her with a relaxed and bent arm, “But you, Gina Perez, are same as me. I saw you play in World Cup. Throwing your body at ball. I have pads when I get hit. You don’t. I have helmet and face mask, you…you just use your face to stop ball.” He smiled, “Didn’t that hurt?”

Gina let out a big laugh and nodded her head, then grabbed her nose and shook it from side to side. “Can you believe I never broke my nose?”

Vladimir smiled. “I think you are tougher than me.”

Andrew interjected, “Okay guys, we need to get to work. Thanks, Gina.”

Gina waved as she exited the office, “See you outside, Vlad.”

Vladimir waved back as he sat, “Da, thank you.”

Andrew gave Vladimir a moment to get settled. He sat upright, fighting against the couch’s soft cushions, keeping his core tight. Andrew noticed and used a soothing tone to speak, “Thank you for coming in, Vlad. Do you know why you are here?”

“I think so, but why don’t you tell me anyway.”

“The Sentinels and your GM, Riley Asherton, felt that you might be having some issues at home. And while the Sentinels are all for your aggressive style of play on the ice, at home things have to be, well, different. You know what I mean?”

Vladimir sat back as his hands came together. “My wife, Isrena, we argue. And sometimes we yell…a lot. I’m sorry.”

“Your neighbors called the police because they heard furniture smashing.”

Andrew kept a sharp watch on Vladimir’s body movements and facial expressions, noting that he kept eye contact, but Vlad’s eyes moved down and then up to the left, indicating he was searching his mind for facts and data. “Yes, well, Isrena got very mad and threw things at me. But she doesn’t have good aim so…”

“Let’s talk about that. What got her so mad that she had to throw something at you?”

Vladimir sat up straight and deadpanned Andrew in the eyes.

“Hmmmmm. Excuse me, Dr. Beck, but how does this make me better hockey player?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Mr. Asherton said to come here, and you make me better hockey player? What does Isrena have to do with playing hockey better?”

Asherton, you douche! You didn’t tell him why he’s here. Fuck me.

Andrew took a steadying breath. “Vladimir, yes, I can make you a better hockey player, but first, I need to understand how you think and feel. On and off the ice.” Andrew became clinical. “Vladimir,

although the NAHL doesn’t have a specific domestic violence policy, unlike say baseball and football, they’re cracking down. Yaakov Gusev on the Thunder Bay Gold, your fellow countryman and gold medal winner was suspended last season for domestic violence. They’re serious about this, Vlad.”

“I know, but what husband and wife don’t argue?”

“You’re a hundred percent right. Every couple argues. But Isrena throwing things at you? And the neighbors calling the police? It doesn’t look good for you, and it doesn’t look good for the Sentinels. So let’s talk. What happened?”

Vladimir took a deep breath, exhaled, and calmly expounded,

“She spend lot of money on new diamond bracelet from Tiffany’s, diamond necklace from Cartier, and two fur coats. Why she need two more? She already have three. One fur coat is enough for anyone.”

“Did that upset you, that she spent the money?”

“No. It’s not the money. Sentinels pay me well. We have big Manhattan apartment. It’s palace compared to the four rooms I grew up in Chekhov, Russia.”

“So what got you angry?”

“She has coats and jewelry she doesn’t wear. So why buy new things? Isrena was super-model. Companies gave her all new clothing

and jewelry, so she wear them in public. She got everything free.

So, no, she has no respect for money.”

“Isrena Salenko is your wife?” Andrew tried not to look too surprised as a montage of her sexy ads whipped through his mind’s eye. She had mastered the pouty “ice queen” look.

“She did all those Gucci ads, right?

“Da.”

“So is that what bothers you? The fact that she has no concept of money or respect for money? Or is it that she’s spending a lot of it?”

Andrew watched Vladimir’s body language as he considered his answer. He slid forward on the couch, hands relaxed but clasped.

“I want her to be happy. If just spending, okay, but she brags to people. She post on Instagram, she shows off. I asked her, ‘Why? Why you show everyone?’” Vlad shrugged his shoulders and continued, “I get email from my family saying send more money home. She throws it in their faces. That’s not right, Dr. Beck.”

“So is that what angered you?”

Vladimir became more emphatic. “No. I ask her, but not yell. I ask her, ‘Why must you tell whole world?’ Then I tell her I have many family members in Russia, and you have family in Russia too. We should help them.”

“And then what?”

“She said her family is dead to her. And my family, are…” He looked away as his words drifted off. He clenched his teeth as if he was looking to bite down on his mouthguard.

“Are what, Vlad?”

“козел.” Vladimir took a pause, as his eyes squinted as if he had just been slapped.

“Koz-yole?” Beck repeated.

“Goats.”

“How did that make you feel?”

“Very angry,” Vlad said stoically. “My family is poor, but they work hard. They are good people. If her family is dead to her, fine, but don’t hurt my family.”

Andrew took a moment to let Vladimir sit with the statement and then gently added, “Vlad, I don’t speak Russian, and sometimes words don’t mean the same things because of cultural references.”

He leaned in, expecting an explanation. Vladimir’s tone changed, more technical sounding, as if he was giving instructions. “козел is very bad insult to say to one person. But to say to whole family? Nyet.” He shook his head several times. “Very bad.”

Vladimir’s tone and body language did not reveal any emotion, despite his words to the contrary. Andrew was amazed at Vlad’s emotional discipline. Discipline or disconnectedness, he wasn’t sure which. He continued to probe.

“So after you got angry, what happened?”

“Then I started yelling. Call her ungrateful, spoiled little princess.”

For the first time, Andrew noted some shame as his eyes looked to the floor for a split second as he added, “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Andrew sat up straight in his chair. “Vlad, answer me honestly here…”

Vladimir seemed to match Andrew and he sat up straight too.

“Da.”

“Did you throw anything at Isrena?”

“Nyet. No, but she threw a very expensive and heavy Kosta Boda vase we got as wedding present. I caught it.” He paused. “I fake like I going to throw it at her.” Vladimir made a feint throwing motion with his right arm as he spoke. “But I didn’t. I wouldn’t.”

“Now Vlad, you’re a big guy. You’re strong. Do you understand why Isrena might be fearful enough that she’d feel she would have to throw something at you to protect herself?”

“Hmmm, da, I see that.”

“Now, I don’t condone her throwing vases at you and insulting your family. That’s wrong and very upsetting.” Andrew let that sit for a second before he continued.

“What are some options you might have had at that moment, other than yelling back at her?”

Vladimir took a deep breath and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Andrew shifted tactics. “Okay, let’s put the same situation in hockey terms. You’re on the ice. You’re down 3-2 in the third period, eight minutes left to play. The Sentinels are trying to get one back to tie up the score. You are in position, and then you catch a high cross-check in the back without the puck. You feel your knees slam the ice and a searing pain in your back. You look up at the refs, but no call.”

Vladimir moved forward and held up his index finger to make his point. “He did it on purpose, right? To draw me into fight, yes?”

“Exactly, so how do you respond? Go after the guy? Drop the gloves, fight and take the five-minute penalty and put your team at a further disadvantage or…”

Vladimir instinctively shook his head. “I skate away. I wait for time when guy is in corner and then I smash him against the boards. But no, I don’t fight. Not in this situation. Nyet.”

Andrew felt a rush of dopamine course through him. “Repeat the first few words you just said, please?”

“I skate away?”

“Exactly. Do you think during your fight with Isrena, you could have skated away? Maybe have gone in another room and cooled down?”

“Da, I could have done that.”

“Great. So, the next time she pisses you off… just skate away.”

Andrew extended his arm gently like he was showing someone a way through a door.

That garnered a laugh out of Vladimir. “That is good suggestion. I will try, Doctor. Thank you. Is that all? May I go now?”

“Not just yet.” Andrew had to fight the instinct to smile at Vlad wanting to stop doing the work. It was natural. His next set of questions would be less affronting. “Outside of hockey, what do you like to do? Any hobbies?”

He thought for a few seconds, then his eyes widened, and half a smile grazed his face. “I like to take apart and build electronics.”

“Really? That’s amazing. I’m completely mechanically declined.”

Vladimir added with some pride in his voice. “I have a degree in electrical engineering. I did all wiring in our apartment.” He laughed as he added, “Isrena thought I was too cheap to pay electrician. But I wanted to do it myself.”

Andrew was taking notes on his iPad, but, genuinely fascinated, he stopped writing and asked, “Why?”

“I like challenge. Problem solving. Although most electrical engineers understand basic circuit theory, most important skill for electrical engineers is ability to think laterally. Same in hockey. So many different angles and play possibilities. You have to calculate, make quick choice where to defend. In electrical engineering if you make mistake with electricity, she teaches you lesson. With pain. Just like in hockey.”

Andrew put his pen down, “That’s a great analogy. So how did the wiring come out in your apartment?”

“Good, no shocks, no fires.” He winked. “Always a good sign.”

They both shared a quick laugh and then Andrew took control of the conversation again. “Let’s talk about hockey.”

“Da.”

“Everyone knows you are one of the most feared enforcers on the ice. You lead the league in penalty minutes this year. The Sentinels are on their way to the playoffs. And no one has ever gotten the best of you in a fight. You know what they call you, right?”

“Russian Bear.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“I don’t care what people think, Doctor. People don’t know what it is like to be professional hockey player. People don’t know how hard we train, how tough eighty-two games a year is. How sore we are. Sore, all the time, playing injured. After game, everything hurts.

Especially if I fight. My hands hurt all the time. But every day, we get up, sit in ice bath, put skates on, get on ice. We do it for teammates, for fans, we do it because we love to play hockey.”

“What do you love most about the game? Fighting?”

“Nyet! Nyet! I hate fighting! I want to skate, I’m good defender! I made Russian Olympic Team in Vancouver in 2010. I was only 22. I made Olympics again in Sochi. No fighting in Olympics.”

Andrew took a beat. “Your family must have been proud of you.”

“More proud when I made Olympic team than when drafted by Sentinels. I was, how you say, ‘pride and joy’ for my family.”

“I’ve seen your films, Vlad. You are an incredible skater and defender. So why fight? Why be an enforcer?”

Vladimir took a second, stared deeply at Andrew—almost right through him—then pointed his finger at him. But it was a different point than the one he’d made at Gina; it was a warning. “Because I won’t let anyone fuck with my family.”

There was a determination and power behind his words. It shook Andrew to his core. He could see that this was deeper than just hockey. His words were a credo. There had to be more behind this. But he had to wait, it had to come from Vlad, and he could see in his eyes he wanted to say something, so Andrew waited.

Vladimir sat back on the couch, he relaxed his hands and his body tension from a few minutes ago drifted like a puck flicked down an endless ice pond. He cocked his head as he broke the silence, “Would you like to hear a story, Doctor?”

“Absolutely.” He put down his stylus, sat back in his chair, and crossed his legs.

Vladimir continued, “My brother Nikita and I loved hockey more than anything in world. Nikita was much smaller than me. He took after our mother, Tatiana, who was molecular biologist. I took after father, Sergei. He was Red Army sergeant and after army became police officer. No one could skate like Nikita. Even though tiny for his age, he was fast, could cut, make you cry how good skater he was.” A big smile crossed his face. Andrew immediately made a mental note of it and homed in on Vladimir ’s body language.

“One day, we were playing for school team. I was 15. Nikki was 13. He was smallest on ice. He made move on bigger boy named Konstantin. His father was big in politics. Nikki passed puck to himself by putting it between boy’s legs and pick up puck on other side. We all laughed.”

Vladimir threw up his hands. “But Nikki did that to all of us. It was…how you say, ‘his thing,’ yes?”

Vladimir waited for acknowledgement. Andrew nodded and he continued, “Later in practice, the puck bounce hard off boards, Nikki reached for puck, made nice stick move to control puck and clear it. But when he reach to get puck, he was too extended, defenseless.”

Vladimir reenacted the play, extending his right arm forward and bent at the side. “Konstantin slammed Nikki into boards. Knocked him out cold.” Vladimir’s eyes got wider as he continued with the physical reenactment, “When I see this, I…I went mad. I skated to Konstantin, threw him down onto ice and kept punching him as hard as I could.” Vladimir started throwing vicious air punches, causing Andrew to move his head back as if the force of the air from his fists was going to hit him in the face. “My teammates tried to pull me off. No one could do it. It took two coaches. I broke Konstantin’s nose in three places, broke his occipital bone, fractured his jaw. He missed the rest of the season. I was suspended for five games.”

Vladimir composed himself after throwing the air punches. He ran his hand through the top of his hair and sat back deep into the couch. “Konstantin’s father was very upset. He wanted me kicked off team. But I wasn’t worried about that.”

“Oh? What were you worried about?” asked Andrew.

“The beating I was going to get from Papa. Papa had hands of iron. Even when he held our hands to cross street, he would crush them by accident. After first time he spank me on ass, felt like I hit by shovel. After that, I never wanted to get hit by Papa again.”

“So, what did you do?”

Vladimir let out another half-smile. “Only smart thing. I begged mother to protect me.” The other half of the smile arose. “I’m not stupid.”

Both men again shared a laugh, realizing this was a street both men had traveled down precipitously.

“I’ve used that move myself when my brother and I both wanted to hold my dad’s US Open trophy and we fought and broke it. But Mom was always the peacemaker.”

The smile left Vladimir’s face as he focused back on his story.

“Da. So, that night we come home, Nikki has big black eye, split lip, ice pack on head. But that wasn’t so unusual. We’re boys, we play hockey, things happen. We sit down to dinner. Mama was cooking steak—very unusual. I remember being really mad because if I didn’t get beat, I was going to be sent to bed without supper. No supper is brutal punishment after hours of hockey. I was starving.”

Vladimir shrugged. “But I figured, only being hungry would be getting off easy. At dinner, Papa sits down. Mama puts steak in front of him. Potatoes too. Nikki and I are drooling. Mama, like always, put big piece of steak on Papa’s plate. Then Papa looks at me. And he has deep voice.” Vladimir lowered his tone to a deep baritone imitating his father. “ ‘Vladimir, I got call at police station from Konstantin’s father, Comrade Bentikoff. You put his boy in hospital, yes?’ I tried to make a defense, but as I opened my mouth, he raised his big hand in the air.”

Andrew cluttered his words together “That’s bad right? That sounds bad.”

“It meant, ‘Shut up right now, and don’t say another word.’ I thought I was going to get knocked out right there, but then he told me story…”

Vladimir remembered his 15-year-old self, sitting at the table as his father bore down on him. He heard his father’s booming voice in his mind as it further anchored him in the past. “Vladimir, when I was in Red Army, I was stationed way out in Sakha Republic. It was winter, cold, a desolate wasteland of nothing but snow and forest. I was on patrol with two other soldiers. What were we patrolling? Ice and snow? The trees? So, we were bored. Then three bear cubs come out of woods, running and playing. My two comrades start shooting at them. I tell them, ‘Hey, you imbeciles, stop that!’ But one of them turns to me and says, ‘Shut up, Poplov, you don’t give orders out here.’ I yell back to them, ‘You don’t fuck with someone’s family.’

The other soldier yells to me, ‘Poplov! They are not someone’s family—they’re some bear’s family.’ For some reason they thought this was funny joke and they continued firing at little cubs. So I yell to them, ‘I’m not going to tell you again. Stop shooting at those bear cubs!’ Which they did, but then they pointed their rifles at me, and one said, ‘Or what? Tough guy? Maybe we shoot you instead?’ They cocked their rifles and aimed them at me.”

Vladimir remembered his father pausing at this point and then emphatically raising that giant index finger of his. “Now, I could have rushed them. They were not good shots by the way they were missing the cubs. I think I could have taken them before they shot me. But as I was making my plan of attack, out of the tree line, I saw Mama Bear. She wasn’t happy.” He paused and looked at both of his two boys quickly. They were fully engaged. “So, I quietly walked backward, out of her view. And Mama bear

did what any mother would do to protect her children. I saw the bear charge the two men. They fired shots, but they missed, and then all I heard after that as I drove off was the screaming of those two men as they were torn apart by that bear.”

“As I drove off, I fired my weapon twice in the air. When I got back to base, I told commanding officer that my two comrades had been mauled by a bear and taken into the woods. They called me coward for not going in after them. But the men who knew me knew I was no coward. After that, many men were reluctant to go on patrol with me.”

Vladimir remembered his father’s long, deep, and hard stare. He felt like his brain would melt, but Sergei said, “So, Vladimir, do you know what the moral of my story is?”

Vladimir’s flashback ended when he refocused his attention on Andrew and paused, like his father did for maximum effect, extended his index finger again, and said, “Don’t fuck with someone’s family.”

Vladimir’s tone changed back to his own. “Then Papa took the big piece of steak off his plate and put it on mine.” He brushed his hands off his pants as if he was clearing dust off them. “So why am I enforcer, when I hate fighting, Doctor?”

He didn’t wait for Andrew’s acknowledgement. “My teammates are my family. And if you fuck with them, you have to fuck with me.” He poked himself in the chest with his thumb several times.

Andrew let it sit for a second and nodded as he responded, “That is some story, Vlad. Thank you for sharing it with me.” Andrew scribbled some more notes, but not because he needed to—his memory was excellent—but to create an interlude, a blank passage of time that would allow him to transition to the part of the conversation that was going to be difficult.

“Look, we need to have a few sessions, show the Sentinels and the league you are in counseling when the playoffs start in a few weeks.” He searched Vladimir’s face for any body language and facial micro-expressions that showed resistance. He needed Vladimir to buy into, or at least be open to therapy. He was hard to read, and Andrew sensed some inherent skepticism but not outright resistance.

Vladimir was a strong man, smart, and good at heart. But he couldn’t be forced into anything. Andrew went with the soft sell. “I’m sure in a few weeks, we can put this all behind us as a single incident.”

“I understand, Doctor.”

“Are you willing to commit to therapy and the process?”

“If Mr. Asherton says I have to, then I have to.”

“Vlad, therapy doesn’t work like that. You have to participate. You have to be honest with me and most of all, yourself. I have to report to Riley and the Sentinels on your progress, and for this process to work, I need your full and willing cooperation.”

He had to get Vladimir to say the words. Only then could Andrew feel that he could make progress with him. He knew that if he could get through this period with Vladimir, he was positive there were other Sentinels he could work with, and if not them, then there were other hockey players in the league he knew he could help. Hell, if he could make progress with the Russian Bear, he could treat anybody. But first, he had to get Vladimir to commit.

“So I ask again, Vlad, are you willing to commit to therapy and this process?”

“Da, I will do my best. I don’t want to disappoint my teammates and Mr. Asherton.”

“Thank you, Vlad.” Andrew was relieved but kept his concerned doctor look intact. Years of high-stakes card playing made Andrew an expert at hiding his true emotions. “I believe you are a sincere person, and you would do your best at anything you tried to do. This process might be difficult, but I know it will not only be helpful in your personal life, but also it will make you a better hockey player.”

“Thank you, Dr. Beck. I want to be better husband and teammate.”

“Okay, Vlad, that’s it for today.”

He felt the iron grip again, then Vlad headed to the door. But Andrew had one more question. “Oh hey, Vlad, did Nikki play pro hockey too?”

Vlad sighed and said, “Nyet, he died a year later.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “We can talk about that another time.” Andrew smiled at him and added, “You can book your next time with Gina, and we’ll get a schedule for your visits sorted out. And thanks again for the story. Your father sounds like a good man.”

Vlad looked Andrew in the eyes and retorted, “Yes, he is. It is easy to see our fathers as heroes when we are boys. In our minds, they are larger than life…”

Andrew matched Vladimir’s gaze. “Until they aren’t.”

“Da.”

Vladimir left the office as Andrew took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair. He could hear Gina calling out to Vladimir, “Hey, Vlad, come on over and we’ll get you all set up, I have a few forms…”

Andrew closed the door and sat back at his desk. He opened his Otter.io transcription application on his iPhone and hit record. “Patient Intake Meeting Report for Vladimir Poplov, defenseman, New York Sentinels. Vladimir is very reserved, but I assess a deeply passionate individual. A childhood hockey sensation and product of a difficult circumstance in post-communist Russia, he seems to have grown up in a good home with strict but loving parents. Mother Tatiana, a molecular biologist and Father Sergei, a soldier and policeman.

Vlad seems to be a blend of the two. Strong mentally and physically as well as smart. He has a degree in electrical engineering and he’s a thinker. The main issue I’m uncovering and working on are his anger issues. Problems at home with wife and former supermodel Isrena Salenko. I am concerned matters could escalate to violence if not monitored closely. Will discuss other methods of deescalating arguments. Major psychological themes: protecting the vulnerable. Vlad sees himself as a protector and guardian on and off the ice. He is one of, if not the best fighter in the NAHL. Yet when I questioned if he liked the fighting, he was visibly disturbed.

He immediately shifted away from me and clenched his fists, suggesting that his repulsion was genuine. Protecting one’s family was a vividly reinforced theme in his childhood, and it seems it has carried on into adulthood and is a trigger for violence when someone threatens or insults his family.”

Andrew hit the pause button to gather his thoughts as the Otter application continued transcribing his words.

He hit Record. “Triggers: attacks on family. Vlad is triggered by attacks either verbal or physical on his natural or metaphorical families, for example, teammates and friends. I believe anyone who builds a close relationship with Vlad would classify him as ‘family.’ Trigger: Isrena, his wife. I believe Isrena provokes him purposely to get his attention and an attempt to control him. She is in danger of domestic violence. I will need to monitor the situation closely. If there is a violent incident with Isrena, the NAHL would most certainly crack down on Vlad and make an example of him. If Vlad were to be suspended during the playoffs, the Sentinels would have trouble getting out of the first round and their run for the Champions Cup would be over.”

Andrew added fatefully, “And probably my contract with the Sentinels too.”

“Treatment next steps: Vlad seemed responsive to what I called ‘skating away’ from potential confrontations with Isrena. I will need to exercise and role-play this in future sessions. Additional notes: His younger brother Nikki died young, Vlad seemed very fond of him, and may be another source of his violent tendencies. Need to probe possible physical abuse from father, need to probe relationship with mother to inform choices with other women and Isrena. Treatment Plan: please book one session per week for next three months. Best to book on days when he is playing to give him a clear head, and I can access his mental state before the playoff games. End Patient Intake Meeting Report.”

Andrew pressed the stop button and let the application catch up. As he waited, he marveled at seeing the words he spoke a few seconds ago pop up in type. He shook his head and smiled. For the most part, Andrew was an analog kind of guy, but some tech made him marvel. Seeing his words in type as he spoke them not only helped him with client recall, but there was something about him seeing his thoughts in words without him writing them. The smile grew until his cell phone dinged and a text notification popped up on his screen. The ID said “Five.”

Andrew read the message from Lorry: “Was notified by Mr. Keegan that you and he were to be at the same table tonight?”

Andrew hesitated. He had to be careful here. He decided less was more.

He sent back a simple, “Yes.”

Lorry sent another message: “Keegan said, ‘Make sure Beck is at my table. I need to get my money back.’ What’s he talking about?”

Andrew winced and thought about his reply. “The bet he lost with Fergus. He thinks he can beat me at poker for it. Will be there at 8 p.m.”

Andrew tried to cut off the conversation to avoid more suspicion, but he knew Lorry was sharp and had an instinct for spotting trouble brewing. He hoped she wouldn’t push it any further. Andrew was relieved when her following text dinged: “Understood.”

Andrew took a deep breath. His exhale had more sigh than relief. That fucker Keegan. He’s going to get us both killed. Andrew’s thoughts started clocking at a mile a minute. He needed to make sure Lorry didn’t get too nosy about Mr. Keegan’s brash boasts. And he didn’t even want to speculate what might happen if they got caught. Then he remembered that he hadn’t told Sandra he would be out late tonight. He had to think of an alibi so she wouldn’t complain—or worse, suspect him of lying about his whereabouts.