Page 9 of Root

I clench my hands, glaring at him. “You planned this.”

“No one made you take drugs or dip into the goods for sale. Or go to a competitor, and yeah, even friends are that. But no one made you. Except you.” He folds a pair of jeans. “Your decision.”

“No advice, no—”

“I think you’re a fucking shit, Rush.”

Triumph flares in me. “I knew it.”

“And what do you know? I did all this for you. You want it, so it’s yours. It’s that fucking simple.” Next goes in a sweater. “Be careful who you trust, and don’t do the drugs you—”

I roll my eyes dramatically. “Oh, God, bring on the lecture.”

“Do drugs until you drop dead or end up on the streets, for all I fucking care, Rush. I’m talking about the shit you control and sell. It’s a bad move. Empires fall over things like that. So, buy your personal shit outside of Queenstown.”

He closes the case and heads for the door, and I just stare, blinking back burning tears from my eyes. “Nikolai.”

He turns on his heel with a dangerous look on his face. “What do you want from me? You clearly think sixteen means emancipation. Take it. Don’t fuck it up.”

I swallow, remembering the screams when Tony stepped in when I couldn’t–the sickening thud of crunching bones, the blood when he came out of the back room alone with an envelope of cash.

“N-Nikolai. I don’t want this. I’m not…not you.”

They’re the wrong words. Darkness settles deep on his expression. “And thank the fucking stars. What do you want, Rush?”

“Stay.”

He looks at me, suitcase on the floor, handle up. “And what?”

“Take back your place.” I swallow. “Please.”

“If I do, you do what I say, when I say it. No fucking drugs. You don’t take from us, you don’t buy from others. If you do anything, you’re not involved in the purchase. And Rush? Saturday, I’m teaching you how to run this place. How to handle a weapon. Self-defense classes.”

“But I—”

He interrupts me. “Know? You know the bare minimum. Learn this shit and, you know, you can go on being a fucking kid.”

“C-Can I? Be a kid?”

Nikolai smiles. “As long as you can be, Rush. As long as you can be.”

CHAPTER THREE

Rush

Age 19

“I’m not playing poker with you, Rush.”

I hoist myself onto the Peloton’s saddle as Nikolai uses the free weights in our gym.

“Too good for you, Niko—” I catch his dark look. “Nikolai?”

He’s Niko, Nikolai, and fuck face—the first I rarely use and the last one I wouldn’t ever utter aloud, because I love my balls right where they are. They’ve got years left of use.

Dude and man slip out on occasion, but he’s a man who wants his name in full, the fuck face.

“Why does that fucking expression on your ugly face make me want to kill you?” he asks.

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