Page 102 of Kingmakers, Graduation

Adrik and I argued last night. I told him we should have a ninety-day cash reserve. He said we didn’t need it.

“We’re vulnerable,” I told him. “If something goes wrong?—”

“Nothing’s going to go wrong.”

“If we took twenty percent of the profits?—”

“We can’t. Business is booming. We have to grab all the market share we can before someone figures out how to make their own version of the product.”

I scoffed. “They’ll fuck it up. And by the time they copyMolniya,I’ll already have made five more formulas.”

“If doesn’t matter if their drugs aren’t as good—I’m already seeing counterfeits popping up. Not everyone is as discerning as you. They’ll buy whatever’s cheapest and easiest.”

I glared at him, arms folded. “You said we’d make decisions together.”

“We do. All the time.”

“Unless you disagree with me.”

“When two people disagree, you still have to make a choice.”

“And it’s always your choice.”

“I’ve let you do whatever you wanted with the drugs,” he snapped at me.

“Letme?”

“The supply chain is my business.”

“All of it isourbusiness!”

“There’s still division of labor!”

“I’m not talking about labor! I’m talking about organization and planning?—”

“When we’re in a better position, we’ll have a reserve. We’ll have so much money rolling in you can fill a vault with cash and swim around in it like Mak Dak.”

“We can’t wait for that!” I cried. And then, “Wait, what did you just say?”

“I said we’ll do it when we’re in a better position.”

“No … the part about swimming around in the vault.”

“Yeah—like Mak Dak. You know—the little duck with the spectacles.”

I started laughing. “Are you talking about Scrooge McDuck?”

“Yeah! Mak Dak. He’s very popular here in Russia. There’s a whole restaurant chain named after him.”

The argument was derailed by the urgent need for Adrik to pull up photos of said restaurant chain, so I could marvel at the Russian custom of ripping off American brands to decorate every kiosk in town.

I had already observed shawarma shacks with upside-down McDonald’s “M”s in place of the “W” in “Waurma.” If that’s not enough cache, they also slap a Nike or Adidas logo on the side of their restaurant for no goddamn reason at all.

Adrik and I spent an hour happily employed in that manner, our debate forgotten.

My irritation swells all over again when Jasper slouches into the kitchen, equally annoyed at the errands Adrik’s been assigning us.

“Let’s get this over with,” he says, surly and sulking.

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