We have a tradition: once every five years the guys and I get together in Vegas and have a blast. In an adult way. Booze, casinos, brawls. Russians relax... Why not? Can. We can. Let's practice. This time I woke up in a third-rate hotel next to a naked baby and... a ring on my ring finger. We got divorced. I barely remembered her face. But three months later, my car was cut off by a dashing racer. She claimed that I was a scumbag who abandoned her pregnant goddaughter and did not want to admit paternity.