Chapter 25 – Ivan
Mancini: Thank you.
Me: I didn’t do it for you.
Mancini: Doesn’t matter.
Mancini: Penny needed her. You let Poppy come. I owe you.
Me: Careful, don. I might call you up on that.
Mancini: And I might just listen before I shoot you, dog.
Redwood Plaza looked the way my grandmother said an ulcer felt.
“A rot that creeps beneath my brittle skin.” The parking lot out front was pockmarked and mostly deserted, the few remaining cars clustered close to the entrances as if afraid to stray from the few working lights.
I parked next to a gutted minivan with a cracked windshield and a cargo net full of yellowing plastic balls.
“What are they doing with those balls, tatko?” Brady asked.
I scrunched my nose. “Maybe they’re a gym teacher at the youth center?”
“Huh, I don’t think I want to be a teacher.”
We exited my car. The hot summer sun beat relentlessly down with one final blast before it disappeared to the west. We hurried to escape its fiery breath. The windows of the Spotted Cow wore a lacy film of grime, but the owner churned the custard by hand, making it worth it.
“Why’s that?” I held the door open for my boy.
“Can’t spank ‘em if they ain’t yours.” Brady shrugged.
I barked a laugh.
“Don’t tell mama I said ‘aint’!” His eyes grew wide, and he stopped right in the middle of the shop. “She hates when her cousins do it.”
“It’ll be our secret,” I whispered.
The round face beamed at me. Brady spun around, marching right up to the covered cases and smushed his face against the glass, the backpack with the coloring book slung around his shoulders. He balanced on the tips of his toes to see better.
A long moment of appreciation spread through me. He was a cute kid. That mop of messy brown hair never laid flat…much like mine hadn’t at his age. Instead of buzzing it short, Poppy encouraged him to wear it how he preferred.
She’s a good mother. A damn good mother.
And I probably scared her earlier today with the revelation that I wanted to put a baby in her.
What could I say? I was dreaming about her, swollen with a child, then holding it in a rocking chair that we didn’t own yet. In the delirious state between sleep and wake, as I stared at the ceiling, it’d felt so real that when I saw her in the kitchen, I blurted it out.
As if on cue, a yawn pulled from deep within.
“You need the coffee ice cream, tatko,” Brady said knowingly.
I nodded in agreement.
Brady eyed the mural painted on the shop’s cinderblock wall.
A cartoonish bear in a baseball cap brandished an oversized triple-scoop cone, its smile chemically sincere.
The mural was peeling at the corners, exposing layers of older mascots underneath.
Generations of candy-coated failure, fossilized in latex and primer.
Teddy Bolton, the owner, came in from the back. “Ah! Mr. Mladenov! How are you?”
“Doing good, Teddy, doing good.” I gestured to Brady. “We’re here for a treat.”
The ice cream aficionado cleared his throat. “What’ll it be today, champ?”
Brady scanned the case once more.
“Salted caramel!” he responded after a long moment.
“Two scoops? A big man like you is hungry, no?”
Brady hesitated, then shook his head. “Just one. I’m not that hungry. We had a lot of soup for dinner.”
“Suit yourself,” Teddy said, and scooped without comment, slamming the lever on the industrial freezer with enough force to rattle the metal frame. His wrists bore deep red creases where the plastic gloves pinched his skin.
“And tatko needs the espresso one,” Brady added. “Please, sir.”
Another smile tipped my lips. Such good manners. I was damn proud of the boy.
“Of course!” Teddy smiled.
Done with his part, Brady went to a table and began to pull out his coloring. I promised to draw with him, but I hadn’t held a crayon in…years.
“Any news on the new building, Mr. Mladenov?” Teddy asked, voice lowered even though we were the only customers inside.
I pursed my lips and shook my head. “The city is stalling on the project.”
Not bothered in the slightest, Teddy hummed to himself. “No matter what happens, we’ll deal with it.”
“We will.” But Teddy was counting on me. Everyone was counting on me.
I tapped my card. The reader beeped, struggled to process, then finally spat out a limp receipt.
“Here ya go, champ!” Teddy called out.
Brady took his cone, cradling it in both hands. He licked at the base methodically, rotating the scoop to forestall any drips. His tongue left a snail-trail through the dense cream.
I took my own, thanking the owner.
“I’ll be in the back if you need me,” Teddy called out.
As I sat on the yellow, wooden chair, I dug my phone from my inside pocket and flicked through my inbox.
Two new messages: one from the project manager, the other from Poppy.
It was a new and not unwelcome feeling, seeing Poppy’s name on my screen.
I saved that for last and opened the business one first. The manager’s was predictably terse—a reminder about tomorrow’s call, and a link to yet another spreadsheet.
In other words, no progress. The city was stalling.
If they built the new shopping complex across the highway, a rival mob would move on that turf, and we’d all suffer.
I wasn’t letting that happen.
Grinding an espresso bean between my molars, I opened the other. Poppy’s message was a one-line check-in, the kind that left me hollow and grateful at the same time. I might just let her keep her phone, if only we started texting more.
The idea churned inside me.
She could go back to posting books on her social media.
She’d like that.
“It’s settled,” I muttered.
Brady squinted up at me. “What is?”
I blinked. “Your mom needs more books.”
A dramatic eyeroll accompanied by a huge sigh escaped my son. “No, tatko! She has too many already. They’re everywhere.”
A shadow moved across the storefront, and I looked up to see a trio of teenagers—two girls and a boy—loitering in front of the check-cashing place.
They wore identical black hoodies and huddled close, whispering in urgent bursts.
One of the girls flicked a lighter open and shut, open and shut, the flame catching then vanishing in the building’s shadows.
I watched them for a moment, then turned back to Brady. He’d gotten ice cream on his cheek, a sticky crescent just below the eye. I reached out, but he ducked away before I could wipe it off.
“I have something for you.” I dug once more in my pocket and produced the strand of braided red thread. A jasper bead sat snug in the center, the strands woven through and around it.
“Kiril has one of those!” Brady dropped his crayons and held out his wrist. “He said Katerina gave it to them when they started dating, and he’s never taken it off.”
Tying it on, I smiled. “And now you have one too.”
Brady spun the bracelet around his wrist. “Thank you for protecting me against the evil eye, but, tatko?”
“Hmm?”
“You should get mama one too,” he said thoughtfully.
Your mother isn’t fond of wearing things I buy her.
I hid my suddenly grumpy mood behind a lick of ice cream. “Maybe you should give her one.”
“Okay.” Brady looked around. “It’s gonna get torn down, isn’t it?” he said, voice low.
Damn, this son of mine was perceptive. “That’s the plan.”
“That’s what Rayko said. It would be good to build this place new, but….” Brady licked his ice cream. “Teddy won’t leave, will he?”
I chuckled. “Teddy has rent control for life.”
Brady’s confusion was priceless.
“It means he’s loyal, a friend. And I want him to open a brand-new shop when we rebuild.”
“I would like to be an ice cream man,” Brady said excitedly. “Do you think he’d take me as an apprentice?”
“If that’s what you want,” I offered.
That was the dream of America, wasn’t it? To let your ambitions climb to the heavens and see them become reality. If my boy wanted to spend his days sweating over vats of cream, sugar, and ice, then so be it.
I wouldn’t stand in his way.
But I had a feeling he would take after me. Once I could open up my world to him, piece by piece. That inquisitive nature would see opportunity in the underworld. He would crave the risk to try new things.
And by the grace of any god listening, I would help him on his way.
I hadn’t given him the red bracelet to protect against the evil eye.
Believing in that crap was for old women and zealots.
I gave him the symbolic cord as a promise to myself.
He was mine, and I would protect him. Plus, there was a part of me that liked sharing our heritage with him.
Feeling a rush of renewed determination, I shot Rayko a text. I told my second that we needed to convince the commissioner that it was for the best to rebuild this area. That progress meant breathing new life into the old.
Rayko’s response was that Commissioner Dallas was still skittish.
We would handle that. It was time to apply a little pressure since playing nice had only stalled us with paperwork.
“Let me get you a napkin, Brady,” I laughed, seeing more caramel on his cheek. I plucked one from the box at the end of the table. “Can’t have your mom seeing you like this.”
“Mama is coming?” Brady perked up. “She likes key lime ice cream. Or strawberry rhubarb. Or dark-dark chocolate.”
“Did Teddy have those flavors?” I shot a look over my shoulder but couldn’t read the little signs from here.
“No.”
“Well, we’ll see if he can make some.” But when he opened, the rent control would come with the stipulation that those three flavors were always in his case. As I stood, my knee gave a little pop. I winced. Getting older was a bitch.
I was about to call for the ice cream man, when a violent crash made the neon sign on the wall shudder. The front door was thrown wide, allowing four men to burst into the shop.
In a rush, I grabbed Brady, yanking him up and tossing him over the counter. “Find Teddy!”