Page 58 of Brooklyn Bratva

This was no time for a pissing contest, no matter how much I knew I’d come out on top.

“Fine.”

“Right then, mate. I think you’d better get me up to speed.”

Becca

“I have new phone Becya. Look. You like?”

Across the table from me at a little Russian bakery on Brighton Beach Avenue, Mrs. K pulled out a very expensive-looking Samsung, in a garish pink rhinestone case and set it down on the table, next to her large slice of immaculately layered cream cake.

I smiled at her across the table, trying not to giggle. “It’s great Mrs. K. Mama.”

She had her own money, and if she wanted a phone to match with her outfit, then good for her. Somehow it looked exactly right with her pink and leopard print t-shirt. Her lipstick matched the shade of the phone exactly. I loved that she was so confident in everything she did.

She didn’t look like a woman who was as close to dying as all those pills I’d collected for her suggested.

She frowned down at the screen of the phone, and jabbed at it with a blunt finger. “Is look good, but not work so good. Is not in Russian.”

“Oh?” Ivan’s warning that she didn’t know how to work the router at home rang in my ears and I privately wondered whether she even had the phone switched on.

“Do you have Ivan’s number in it?”

Mrs. K looked at me, eyes widening as though I’d just asked something incredibly strange. “Vanya’s number is here. I not forget it.” She tapped the side of her head.

“Of course, you know it by heart, but I could program it in for you so you don’t have to dial it out every time. I can put mine in there too, then you can get a hold of both of us, anytime you need to.”

She shrugged, picking up her fork to break off a corner of the perfectly cut square of cake. “As you wish.”

It was no big deal to her. She was doing me a favor by letting me. Or that’s the way she saw it, I could tell. But it was all the opening I needed. I only wanted to help her out.

“Ok, I’ll put them in.”

Unlocking the phone, I was a little surprised to see so many numbers already listed. But who was I to say that Mrs. K couldn’t have gotten someone to transfer the numbers from her old phone. Someone at the phone shop probably saw a big fat tip walking in the door when they saw her coming and did it for her.

Except, like she said, the phone wasn’t in cyrillic which is why she had a problem with it, and all these names were in the Roman alphabet.

“Where did you get the phone from, Mama?”

Her shoulders stiffened, and that little niggle of concern in my chest started growing larger.

“What you mean? I go to store, I get phone.”

“Mama, I think this used to be someone else’s phone.”

She looked at me, and something in her expression hardened. The same coldness that had flitted across her face at the breakfast table came onto it now and she snatched the phone back out of my hand.

“Is mine. You no look any more. I not need your help.”

“Mama.”

“Enough. We go now.”

“But you haven’t finished your cake.” I felt horrible. I’d obviously embarrassed her. She shoved the phone back into her handbag, deep irritation etched into her features.

“I not need cake.”

Single-handedly I’d managed to ruin the morning. “I’m sorry.”

But Mama was already gathering her shopping bags, clearly set on storming out. All I could do was grab up my things and follow her, but she wheeled around on me before I could.

“No. You stay. I need do errands.”

“Mama…”

She let out a breath, softening slightly, and I was left wondering whether she even liked me at all, or was she only humoring me because she could see Ivan did.

“Stay here. I come back.”

I swallowed hard, glad that most of the people here were Russian speakers and that gave me half a chance that they hadn’t all been listening in on our argument. She hadn’t even waited for me to reply before she bustled towards the door, like the fierce grandmother she was going to be one day, if I had my way.

I hoped for the sake of the guy who’d sold her the phone that I was wrong, because if she was going to see him with that mood thunder-clouding around her, he was in serious trouble.

CHAPTER 31

Becca

“There is mail for you.” Mrs. K barely nodded towards the box sitting by the apartment door, barely looking at me as she unlocked it and let us in. I was carrying the grocery bags, but even that didn’t seem to be enough penance for questioning the origins of her phone.

Through to the kitchen, I started to help Mrs. K unpack the shopping, setting out the groceries on the table so she could tell me where they went.

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