Page 2 of Nikolai Petrov

The ten year anniversary of their mother’s death seemed a fitting time to gather them again.

Glancing at her photo, surrounded by our sons in their youth, I never expected that the very next summer she would be gone.

My knuckles pop as my fist squeezes tight. The years that followed were a blur as I chased power and revenge.

I passed that fervor to my sons.

“Mr. Petrov? Is now a good time for the housekeeper?” Vicki’s aged voice crackles through the speaker of the intercom.

Shaken from my memories, the worn button gives easily as I push it. “Yes, thank you.”

Smoke hangs heavily over the dimly lit room. The smell of scotch and expensive cologne linger in circular swaths around each of the six men in the overstuffed chairs.

The room reeks of corruption and wealth. They all know their roles, and are well compensated for it.

“Chekov, what is the status of the docks?” My home desk is even more impressive than the one in my office. The elevated platform it sits on adds to the intimidation.

The portly man with a birthmark on his face reminds me of Gorbachev. My parents often said he was the reason they left the Motherland to settle here in Chicago.

“Two more containers are missing. Cops busted one shipment last week. But seem to have settled on the front man. No connections, boss.” His brow is always sweaty and his eyes dart through his fattened cheeks.

“O’Conner?” The lean redhead sits up in his chair. A glint off of his Rolex betrays the humble police chief exterior he tries to portray.

“Yes, boss?” A subtle Irish accent tinges his words.

“Make sure it stays on the front man.” He nods as my gaze shifts to the man on his right and fixes on one of my oldest associates. “And Ivanov? See that the front man is compensated and released early.”

His graying head dips, but he doesn’t talk. He rarely does after he remarried a few years ago. But, his marriage to Svetlana Koskovich ended the bloodshed after years of chasing the demons who killed my precious wife.

I’ll be forever in his debt. I’ve heard rumors Svetlana is a fucking bitch.

His turmoil is built into the lines around his eyes as he squints at me. He’s aged thirty years in the last four.

He’s also one of the best at moving product in our organization. The new ties to his wife’s family are helping immensely.

“Will you be able to move the next six thousand kilos coming in next week? Mikhal has a shipment of pistols due to arrive in three days. Let us make sure they arrive safely and that there’s enough distributed to ease the pressure of moving the coke.”

Mikhail is my oldest son. He’s also my most dependable.

“I’ll make sure it goes smoothly, boss. And, we’ll be ready for the increase in product movement next month.” Peter Ivanov’s words are deep and measured. “When did you say he is returning?” Gray eyebrows barely move with his words.

“They’re all coming home for Christmas this year. So I’m planning a grand reception in the new wing once it’s built.” I press the cinder from my cigar into an ebony ashtray to mask my excitement over the thought.

“Is that why you’re sporting that Santa Clause beard?” Ivanov’s eyes light up and his mustache twitches in a teasing smile.

The other men laugh carefully. They know Ivanov is the only one who can give me a jab without recourse. He’s earned that right.

My thick fingers dig through my lengthened beard. It’s just long enough I can just grab it between my fingers and tug. But, it’s a far sight from the length of St. Nick.

“Fucking Santa. My beard isn’t white. Salt and pepper maybe.” My boys bring home babies, it may turn white. I can’t fight the flutter of yearning in my gut. I’d love to be a grandpa. Our world is a dark one, children are one of the few lights in it.

Leaning forward, I let a lecherous grin twist my lips. “Maybe I’ll find me a hot little elf to sit on my lap.”

The laughter that fills the room is genuine this time.

Chekov raises a snifter of vodka in my direction before wincing the swallow down. “It will be a very good Christmas then, boss.” He smiles past the gaps in his teeth.

Chapter Two

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