My heart ached for the child. I had no one to talk to about the destruction I witnessed. I bottled it up until it was reduced to nightmares. I should be the one who knew how to guide him from this mess. To teach him that there wasn’t always a choking, suffocating fear around every turn.
“Maybe Ivan can take us to the zoo again,” I offered.
That cheered him up. The storm clouds vanished quickly. For now.
We were going to have to deal with what he’d experienced. It wasn’t healthy. But how did I walk into a therapist’s office and explain without narcing on the mob?
Grabbing our shoes, we headed outside to find Kiril vaping in his car on the opposite side of the road.
“The grocery store. Again?” He groaned.
“Hey, in Italy, it’s common to do the shopping daily,” I protested.
“Yeah, same where I come from, but that’s because the markets are fresh. Here, everything lasts on the shelf for months,” he grumbled. “It’s genius! You should buy that stuff. Then I don’t have to take you shopping every fu—”
I hissed.
Kiril cleared his throat. “Okay, let’s go.”
Such conflicting views.
It made sense. But I wasn’t going to get into the downsides of shelf-stable longevity. What I hadn’t realized at first was that most of Ivan’s men came from impoverished villages, where basic necessities were scarce. Or they grew up in the ghetto here. In food deserts. Having a store with food constantly available, with cheap boxed meals that could last in the cupboard or jars that could be stored for ages was no doubt impactful.
Dragging his heels, Kiril took us to the store. Unlike Rayko, he didn’t follow us inside, preferring to sit in the car and vape, listening to death metal.
I took Brady inside.
“Mrs. Mladenov, we have the brands of cheeses you were asking about,” the department manager announced, making a beeline to me.
I do not feel guilty. I don’t feel a bit bad!I smiled, hiding my unease. “Thanks, were you able to source the other items?”
“Not yet, but we’ve got our distribution team looking into it,” the manager assured me. “What else can we keep in stock for Mr. Mladenov?”
The pasture-raised eggs, the A2 milk, the changes to the meat department—these had already been astronomical. Just me, anintrovert, unashamedly using the mob boss’s name to make changes at the local supermarket. It was kind of ridiculous.
But at the same time, kind of awesome. My own brand of blackmail. Who knew I was an intimidating mafia princess after all?
“If I think of anything, I’ll let you know,” I said, going down the aisle that now was filled with food options I felt better about buying. I picked up a bunch of things, planning to bake for the guards and their friends. If the store was going to stock the stuff, I needed to be responsible and purchase it. The prices weren’t inflated either.
I squatted in front of a shelf of new items, looking between the cans of tomatoes for their sources.
“Poppy, a word.”
I jumped.
“Deputy Kevin!” Brady boomed excitedly.
He raced over to give the deputy a hug.
I wanted to shout at the deputy to get the hell out of here. Being seen talking to the law in public was going to spread like wildfire.
Brady was talking a mile a minute, but as I stood, moving the cart, I saw that Kevin wasn’t alone. My heart stopped. Then began to thump wildly against my ribs.
“Okay, champ, that’s enough,” the commissioner said peevishly.
Kevin, to his credit, gave Steve an annoyed look. “He hasn’t seen me all summer, have you, bud?”
Brady shook his head and launched into recounting our trip to the zoo.
