“I’ll have to stop by and say hello,” I say with a spiteful gleam of my own.
King’s Rest is my club. Not my father’s creation, but mine. He rarely offers praise, but when he does, it’s well-earned. He’d stood in the middle of the marble entry hall on the night of our grand opening with a smile.
“This is excellent work,moy syn,my son. You’ve done well here.”
Two simple sentences that still fuel me when I recall them.
Sending a quick text to Roman to get started on those assholes without me, I order a bottle of Yamazaki 50 Year Old Single Malt sent to the mayor’s table before joining them. Ruining Will Grand’s night is worth a $43,000 bottle of whiskey.
“Dmitri Morozov, fancy meeting you here!” Mayor Hal Warner chuckles indulgently, rising to shake my hand.
“Sadly, I don’t get as much time here as I’d like,” I say smoothly. “But since we’re all here together, let’s have a toast to the future of this great city under your leadership.” Hal’s got two assistants with him, and a young blonde that is not his wife. And Will.
“Hell, son, that’s a mighty smooth line,” Will chuckles, taking one of the glasses.
I’m not your son,I think, smiling blandly.And if you call me that one more time, I’m going to gut you like a trout.
Instead, I get my revenge by cutting into their discussion about the port expansion in the Newtown Creek waterway. “You know, we have shipping routes that we could plug into the waterfront there.” I take a sip of my whiskey, feeling its soothing burn in my throat. “We can clean up the area and install a new dock system that can expand to accommodate other shipping lines, along with a new residential area.”
Will’s malicious twinkle has tarnished into something darker, and he finishes his expensive drink in one gulp.
***
My reward for tolerating Will Grand and massaging the mayor’s ego? I get to spend the ride home listening to my brother gleefully recount his enjoyment as he beat the shit out of our two guests.
“It’s the Morales Cartel,” he says, lighting a cigar and blowing the smoke out the window. “They’ve been flooding the market with coke laced with fentanyl and dosed-up pills.”
“It’s only a matter of time before overdoses start piling up and the NYPD gets anxious.” Loosening my tie, I picture idiot twenty-somethings collapsing on the dance floor of one of our clubs, turning blue and foaming at the mouth. “I’m sure you made an example of them?”
“Yeah, the ‘head in the box’ stunt never gets old,” he chuckles. “I sent it to Morales’ estate in Greenwich, instead of his office downtown. Let’s make a statement.”
I smile, picturing the portly old bastard’s expression when his security tells him about our little gift. That might be enough tosend him into cardiac arrest and get rid of our problem once and for all.
“There’s still something off about this,” I muse. “It’s too bold. Morales knows his lane and always stays in it. Why would he be reckless enough to try to expand now? And in our territory?”
“Tomorrow’s problems can’t be solved tonight,” Roman says, using one of our mother’s favorite lines. He resembles her, with the black hair and green eyes. I’m our father, down to the last detail, same build, dark hair, polar blue eyes. Our personalities evolved the same way. Roman is more light-hearted like Mom, and I inherited thePakhan’sstern, and serious outlook. “Why don’t you join me? I’m meeting up with some of the guys at The District. You haven’t been out with me in weeks. No offense, brother, but you really need to get laid. You’ve been a cranky bastard.”
The idea of an uncomplicated night of top-shelf booze and hot sex does sound good… “Fuck.” I pinch the brow of my nose. “I have the Zoom meeting with the St. Petersburg construction division tomorrow morning. I’ll drop you off.”
“You sure?” Roman looks sincerely disappointed.
“I’m sure,” I say sourly. “Father's been putting more responsibility into my hands recently. This isn’t the time to fuck anything up.”
“I never thought I’d see him step down asPakhan,” he says. “But I think Mother's been pressuring him. She wants quality time with him or some shit.”
The Range Rover pulls up in front of our club. There’s a line sprawled down the sidewalk, waiting to get in, which means our marketing director is doing her job.
“Because I care about you,” Roman says earnestly, looking into my eyes, “I’m going to pick up two girls tonight and fuck one of them in your honor.” He leaps out of the back seat, laughing as I slam the door.
Little bastard. At least someone’s getting laid tonight.
***
Obshaka -The head of accounting, keeping track of the Bratva’s legal and illegal accounts.
Spasibo- Thank you in Russian.
Vor -A position of great respect in the Bratva power structure.
