THIRTY-FOUR
Benito
“ A little further,” my father’s voice coaxes, resonating off the stone walls of the stall. “Watch your step.”
A hefty sigh and the scrape of a shoe are the only indications my father isn’t alone. I glance at Dion and then at the chump strung up to the pole before focusing on the stable door.
Arseni steps into view and draws a deep breath when he spots the mark. “Am I supposed to be intimidated?” He hitches an eyebrow, shifting focus to me and my brother.
“Got a reason to be?” Dion counters.
Arseni’s brow deepens; the firm set of his lips indicates he’s less than impressed at being here.
“We speak the truth with one another, don’t we?” Papa asks, circling the vor to stand between him and the man who’s catatonic against the pole. “We’re all friends here.” He spreads his hands wide.
Restrained anger stiffens the set of his shoulders.
Arseni blinks, taking a beat before he responds. “You said you had news about Nastasya.”
“I do.” My father lifts a scrap of cloth off a nearby crate and uses it to wipe the tied man’s mouth. “Well, he does.”
Jacob Seymour Kipperson. Everyone on the street called him Kip.
“You fuckin’ want a presentation, then let me down from here.”
The man still has fire—I’ll give him that.
He wheezes in his breaths, likely due to a cracked rib or two. His gaze never strays from the floor—vacant and emotionless. I’d say the guy’s a master at shutting off from reality. Disassociating. Maybe that’s why he’s lasted this long. He shoved his guilty conscience so deep inside he can’t remember where.
“Give him some water, Dion.” Papa nods toward a half-used bottle against the far wall.
Arseni seconders a dusty chair from the corner and brings it toward Jacob.
I rub the blood on my thumb while I wait for the pleasantries to be over and the real fun to start.
“Tell our friend what you told us,” Papa coaxes. “About who you work for.”
My gaze never strays from Nastasya’s father.
He dusts the seat off and sits with a sigh, crossing one leg over the other. The arrogant tilt of his chin means he looks down his nose at our captive. At the man destined to change it all.
I coaxed the truth from our buddy on the pole for close to three hours before he relinquished. When the bits of information he’d dribbled to distract and confuse me started to piece together, I shoved a bucket under the guy so he could relieve himself while I went in search of my brother for counsel.
Dion felt it best to leave the guy sitting overnight, and he was right. When the sun rose and the room’s increasing temperature made whatever had dribbled through his soiled pants stink, Jacob was ready to quit the games.
And that’s when we went in search of our father.
Now Jacob’s caught between two devils. If his boss doesn’t fuck with his family, mine might. Necessities.
“We only know him as Romulus,” Jacob utters.
“What the fuck does that mean?” Arseni grumbles.
“Romulus is the first king of Rome,” Dion explains. “The legend tells of how he became so after murdering his brother.”
Arseni shifts his attention to my father. “What are you trying to say here, friend?”
“How about we let our guest explain?” My father retrieves the undrunk water from the floor and proceeds to wet a corner of the rag with lethal precision.
Jacob eyes him carefully as he continues. “I never saw the guy’s face until a few weeks ago. Us boys on the street meet with our captains weekly at various locations and specific times.” He shrugs, the motion awkward given his bindings. “I turned up earlier than I was supposed to and saw the guy leaving after talking with my boss.”
Papa uses the dampened cloth to wipe blood from Jacob’s eyebrow. “Tell our friend what he looked like.”
Jacob swallows, eyeing Papa as he cleans the man’s face. “He looked like you but taller.”
Arseni’s jaw hardens.
“What does this Romulus ask of you?” My father coaches the man like one would a child, urging them to speak the truth no matter the consequence.
“Small shit, usually. Racketeering. Bribes. Blackmail. But lately, there’s been talk of drugs. Not our crew. From the boys out west.”
“Near the docks,” Papa fills in as though Arseni’s stupid.
The pakhan’s hands tighten atop his thighs.
If he stands now, he looks like he is going on the defensive. Yet, if he sits, his nervous energy has no outlet. He’s entered this farce, and now Nastasya’s father is forced to continue to play the part, no matter how visibly fake it is to everyone in the room.
My father grins at Arseni. “He hasn’t reached the best part yet.”
“When we started, it was mostly guys who’d been laid off,” Jacob explains.
I move closer to Dion and rest my shoulders against the wall, just out of Arseni’s line of sight.
“I used to work the meat market,” our new buddy says. “Got no severance. Just kicked off the payroll two weeks before Christmas. The missus would have lost her fuckin’ mind, so when some guy walked up to me and said, hey, I got work for you, I said, sure, what you got?”
Papa moves behind the man, quietly loosening the ties around his hands as Jacob talks.
“He said it’s just some fill-in work. Sales, he called it. Asked me if I’m good with people. I said, sure, buddy, I can be good with people.” He pauses when the rope falls away, moving his hands before him to rub at the raw skin. “Thanks for that.”
“Is there a point to this story?” Arseni flicks an index finger back and forth over a fold in his trousers.
“Let him continue,” Dion warns.
“So, this guy, right,” Jacob spills, reveling in the attention. “He tells me to go collect some money. I collect it, but the guy I’m getting it from, he says that he don’t want to do this no more. Well, I don’t know what he means, so I ask. And he tells me that guys have been coming in to take from his business twice a week lately. Now, this don’t make no sense to me, you know, because we all know that businesses gotta pay the protection, but twice a week? So I ask around, and sure enough, everybody has been doing the same.”
“One of your men been taking a second cut?” Arseni asks.
Papa lifts a hand. “Just wait.” He catches my eye and indicates to Jacob’s feet.
I cross the room to remove the binds as he talks.
“This second guy,” he says. “Well, he’s been telling the shop owners that not only do they need to pay for protection, but they also pay to make sure this family”—he points to my father and brother—“leave them alone too. But you know what I think?” Jacob taps his head with a stiff finger. “The second guy—the one I’m collecting for—has to be connected to promise that. If the first guy don’t know about him, the second guy must have some influence over him other than muscle.” He grins. “So I say this to the guy who gave me the job, and he looks at me like I’m crazy. ‘Why you asking so many questions?’ he says. Said it made him nervous about giving me better paying work.” Jacob chuckles. “And, man, of course, I’m gonna be interested when he says that. The missus is breaking my balls over shit we can’t afford. So I ask. I say, what kind of work? And he tells me about this friend of his who got paid five Gs to make this woman crash her car.”
Arseni’s jaw tenses, and he shifts on his seat.
“I’m like five large. Imagine what I could do with that. Until he says they had to shoot her ’cause they fucked it up. But I reckon they would have shot her anyway.” He drops his voice to a loud whisper. “They did it through the eye, you know? Like they was sending a message.” The fool lifts one leg, then the other, once he realizes they’re free. The loops around his stomach are all that hold him in place now. “Goddamn, that’s so much better.”
I back up a step and gag at the smell emanating from his pants.
“Tell my friend where you’ve been invited.” Papa points to Jacob’s fresh cut. “Why you got yourself nice and cleaned up yesterday.”
“He’s going to swear us in.” The fool grins. “Tonight.”
“Who is?” Arseni gripes.
“Romulus.” Jacob thumbs the ropes still around his waist and glances at my father in silent question. “He said it’s time we became family.”
The gunshot’s echo deafens me as it bounces off the room’s stone walls. Arseni twists his head and flinches, Dion putting a finger in his ear to wriggle it around.
My father tilts his head at a screaming Jacob and sighs. “I’m a reasonable guy. Do you know why? Because I left you with one leg to stand on.” He slips the safety on his gun and stows it away. “Make sure it’s a good one.”
“The fuck, man?” Jacob strains at the remaining ties to reach his blown-out kneecap. “I told him all the same shit I told you!”
“And I’m grateful.” Papa stands behind Nastasya’s tense father, placing a hand on Arseni’s shoulder. “Which is why I want to make you an offer.”
“You’re crazy! No wonder your fuckin’ son is insane.”
“You did a great job, Jacob,” Papa soothes, squeezing Arseni’s shoulder. “Keen eyes for a wise guy who’s not paid to be so smart.”
The pakhan shifts, twisting his torso to move his shoulder down and away.
My father squeezes tighter. “But I’m not satisfied yet. And that’s why you’re going to work for me.” He snaps his fingers at Dion.
My brother steps forward, producing a card from his pocket. A saint. He holds it between two fingers, standing before Jacob while he waits for the guy to wise up to what’s happening. Our new friend pants through his pain and lifts a shaky hand, palm up.
Dion shifts the card to his other hand and then produces a pocket knife, flipping the blade open to prick Jacob’s palm. My father moves from behind Arseni to stand beside the pakhan , stoic with pride as he watches his middle son complete the ritual.
“By spilling this blood, you are now family.” Dion presses the saint to Jacob’s palm and closes his over the top. “You enter alive. You leave dead.” He removes the card and sets fire to one corner, passing it to a shaking Jacob. “Disrespect the family, and just as this card burns, so will your soul. Do you swear by the saints to uphold the code by which we live?”
Jacob winces as the flames near his fingers. “Yeah, sure.”
My father takes a step forward.
“I do,” the idiot exclaims. “I do. Yeah. I do.” He drops the final cinders to the floor, wincing as the pain in his leg steals his focus again.
My brother sets both hands to the sides of Jacob’s face with a wolfish grin. “Welcome to the Family.”
“Let him down,” Papa instructs me. “Take the man inside and get him cleaned up. Make sure he eats. And that the doctor sees to that leg.” He turns back to Arseni. “You seen enough for now, my friend?”
The old Russian licks his lips. “I think so.”
“Good.” My father turns, catching my eye. He gives a small smile and an almost imperceptible nod. You did well. “I think it’s time we all had a drink.”