Malachi
Keeping my eyes on a very pissed off Zak as he walked into the gym, I set the weight back on the bench. As the door slammed shut behind him I sat up, and grabbed my towel off the floor to wipe the sweat from my face.
Sneering at him, I stand to leave but he stops me, “Mikhailov, stay! The rest of you, go.”
The guys grumble as they collect their things and leave. Once the gym is clear, ignoring my threatening glare, he grabs a twenty-pound medicine ball and lightly tosses it in the air, confidence oozing off him as he eyes the ball.
Tracking the ball’s movements with my eyes, I have a feeling I know what’s coming. ‘But, no, how would they know? No one really knows Dax and I told him I handled it, that should be the end of it.’ I think as I watch the ball bounce back and forth between his hands.
I start to relax, that knowledge helping me ground myself, when Zac starts talking, “What did my Otets tell you to do?”
Bending over to grab my water bottle from the floor by my foot, I take a long drink before I speak, “To handle the shit at the docks so business could resume. I did that, problem solved,” I shrug.
Zac thrusts the ball in my direction, hitting me in the stomach and causing me to double over, “No, that is not what he told you to do. That is not what I said at all.” He picks the ball back up as I straighten up holding my stomach, “Now let’s try this again. What were you told to do?”
‘That fuckin’ hurt! Punk ass kid! You’re lucky. Only reason I don't kill you is because of who your father is.’ I think as I settle, “I was told to report. But if I fixed it, why should I have to?” I ask, hating that it sounds like I’m whining, but here we are.
“Exactly. You were told to report, and yet, here you are.” Zac says as he sets the ball down. Scratching his eyebrow with his middle finger, he turns around, his back to me, but that damn mirrored wall lets him keep an eye on me.
“Only cowards hide behind their children, Mack.” Zak continues, picking up the resistance band off the floor. My eyes track him as he moves around the room, continuing to talk.
I swallow as he moves behind me, without any warning, the band is around my neck and he has me pulled back into him, “Are you a coward?”
Scrabbling for a grip on the band, I try to choke out a “no”, watching myself turning purple in the wall of mirrors.
Just as suddenly as it appeared, the pressure around my throat is gone and I drop to my knees in front of him.
“Lucky for you, your presence has been requested in next two weeks. You will be there even if I have to drag you in by your balls,” he says, glint in his eyes and thick Russian accent making each word sound more threatening than the last.
He turns, exiting the building without a care in the world.
As the door swings open, I stand and move around the room trying to calm down.
‘How the fuck do they know? Who the hell would’ve gotten the word…
Fuck! Mylo works in juvie. He’s a dead man,’ I think as my hand curls around a nearby dumbbell.
Hurling it at the mirror, I watch it crack and shatter. Bending over, hands on my knees as I try to catch my breath. I can’t retaliate, that’d be like signing my own death warrant; and now I’m really on the radar.
Angrily snatching my stuff from the floor, I get ready to head home. Maddox is lucky he’s where I can’t reach him. He’s probably being watched now anyways, so I can’t even get to him with anyone inside.
‘That’s okay, little fucker has to come home sometime,’ I think with a sneer to Zak’s back as I see him getting into his Jeep from the door.
Zakhary
Getting home a little before 4, knowing what I need to do next all I can think is ‘fuck Mack for making me have to do this.’ With a deep sigh, I drop my keys in the bowl by the door with a clang.
Pulling off the suit jacket, I lay it over my arm, unbuttoning the cuffs of my dress shirt, I roll my sleeves up to my elbow as I make my way to the kitchen where I hang the jacket on the back of a chair at the table.
‘I need to do something with my hands while I wait for Anton. What would Vanya do?’ I think, heading around the counter and reaching for a highball glass as I look at my selection of drinks.
Selecting a vodka, I think about the events of the day as I head for the fridge to get some ice.
I realize I haven’t eaten all day and that I probably shouldn’t have any heavy liquor with what I have to ask of my son.
Opening the refrigerator to see what I have to mix with vodka, I spot fresh vegetables on a shelf and I have an idea.
Deciding to make dinner, I feel a tinge of calm wash over me.
Any time I get the chance to cook always calms me down.
Plan in place, I grab the cranberry juice and mix my drink.
Taking the first sip, I set the glass on the counter, the ice clinks in the glass as I turn to see what I can put together.
Seeing what the options are, and missing a few ingredients for a couple of dishes, I decide to make solyanka.
Digging around for my soup pot, I pull it out, taking it to the sink to fill with water as I pull the needed ingredients out.
Once full, I move the pot to the stove before turning back to the sink to wash the vegetables and start chopping.
The repetitive motion of the knife and watching the pot fill with chopped onion, carrots, and celery help to calm my nerves.
The smell of the meat cooking reminds me of when Otets would make this dish.
The music playing in the background and my thoughts have me so distracted that I don’t hear Anton come in and I startle when he taps my shoulder.
I whirl around to see his smiling face, the smile quickly fades as he takes in my expression and breathes in the smells of a familiar dish.
I don’t startle easily and I only make solyanka when I have a bad visit with Vanya. He knows something is up.
Sighing, Anton pulls the olives and pickles out of the refrigerator, setting them on the counter as he looks at me.
The concern in his ice blue eyes has me stopping mid-chop.
Taking him in I notice that his white blonde hair now has bright blue streaks through it and a few new tattoos sprinkle his hands and body.
Setting the knife down I walk over and kiss the top of his head pulling him into a hug.
‘How could a man choose to make his son take his punishment? It makes me sick having to do this, and it is not even the same thing,’ crosses my mind, before I reel in the thought. ‘Dax needs an ally. Guess I should get to it,’ I think as I head back over to the stove to stir the soup.
Turning to look at him leaning against the counter, I let out a deep sigh, “Come sit with me, Anton.” I say walking over to pour myself a drink.
‘Might as well get this done.’ Drink in hand and hearing his footsteps behind me, we head over to sit at the table across from each other.
‘It’s like looking in a mirror,’ I think, taking a drink.
Anton cocks his head to the side and rolls his eyes, “Out with it,” he says.
He knows he will be asked to do something, we have spent so much time together since his mom ran off. She was not cut out to be a mother or for this life. The best thing she ever did was leave him with me.
Setting the glass down, playing with the rim as I take a moment to put my words together I get lost watching the water drip down the sides. With my head down, I glance up at him through my eyelashes, “We have situation and, unfortunately, I have to ask you to do something big to help fix.”
Anton leans back in his chair, hands in his lap, “I’m going back to juvie aren’t I?”
Scratching my nose with my index finger, I smirk slightly. “Why would you say that?” I question, intrigued by his thought.
He shrugs, “Heard a couple kids talking about someone named Dax being locked up for eighteen months. Weirdly, it is not sister taking it hardest. This kid, Sullivan, is not himself right now.”
‘Could Sullivan be “Kitten”? And if he knows this, what else does he know?’ I ponder for a minute before dropping my head, “Yeah, that’s Maddox, Mack’s son. He needs someone inside to look out for him. He pushes away people and try to do it alone. We don’t trust Mack.”
Anton bobbed his head, “He’s not supposed to be there, is he?” he asks, tonguing at his cheek.
I shake my head as I stand to stir the soup and refill my glass. With my back to him, I continue speaking, “No, he is not. Mack pulled some shit and instead of going in like Otets told him to, he made syn take his place.”
Anton cracks his neck, looking away from me. When he turns back to face me, his eyes flare with anger, “How long?”
I can’t even look at him as I say, “Eighteen months. And Maddox cannot know who orders protection,” I add, just above a whisper.
Anton slams his hand on the table, but he doesn’t fight the request. It comes from Dedushka. “Fine, after we eat. I will go grovel to Alina and I will make this shit fucking happen.”
I want to yell at him for hitting the table, I want to yell at him for his language, but with what I have just asked of him, I bite my tongue and say only, “Da.”
Anton
True to my word, as soon as I finish eating, I go to my room and pack the go-bag that my Otets will bring me in a few days. I call Alina to make sure she’s home and is okay with my coming over tonight.
Stepping back into the kitchen, I see him sitting at the table, head hanging between his hands, elbows on the table, fingers threaded through his hair.
The light above the sink casts a soft glow over him.
His feet are stretched out in front of him and his shoulders slumped.
In this moment, he looks older than he is.