Page 99 of Lies He Told Me (Bratva Crime Syndicate 1)

“The same,” Gavril says.

Marlow scrutinizes Gavril dubiously. “You sure about that? You look like a growing boy to me.” Seeing Gavril’s expression, Marlow laughs good-naturedly. “Don’t take it personal. Any kid who doesn’t have gray hair is a kid, far as I’m concerned. So, what’ll it be? I can throw some bacon on the burger, no extra charge.”

“Alright,” Gavril says. “A large fry, too.”

Marlow and I chat for a few minutes while he fries everything up. Gavril wanders halfway down the block. Marlow tells me that word on the street is there’s a new gang showing up here more and more. They’re called the Skull Kings or something sinister like that.

Marlow’s hairy caterpillar eyebrows invert as he says the name and shakes his head. “They’re bad news, them. Bad, bad news. Enough to make me close up shop, even.” He gets a dark, faraway look, then shakes his head. “Anyway, enough doom and gloom. You two enjoy!”

He hands over our food, and I take it, telling him, “Stay safe, Mar. If you think you should move …”

“Ah, don’t mind me, I’m just a grumpy old man who likes complaining. Now, you enjoy and beat it!” he cries, waving me away.

I hesitate, but Gavril takes my arm, and I walk away.

Marlow is no pushover. Having set up shop here, he’s outlasted gun-toting thugs, hot-dog-hungry junkies, and plenty of sweet kids with sticky fingers. If these so-called Skull Kings are making him rethink his location, they must be incredibly dangerous.

But it’s not my place to pry, and I could see Marlow didn’t want me to keep asking questions.

Gavril and I are a good few meters away when he stops. “Forgot to do something,” he says, striding back. As I watch, he says something to Marlow, who shakes his head. Then Gavril takes out his wallet and pulls out several bills. Marlow shakes his head again, smiling but sure. Gavril is smiling and just as sure, though. He leaves the stack of bills and strides off, while Marlow calls after him, “Hey, I told you! I can’t accept this!”

“What was that about?” I ask Gavril as he takes my arm and leads me to the parking garage.

“A thank you for helping you in your time of need,” Gavril murmurs, “though he didn’t want to take it.”

“Oh.”

It’s all I can think to say. For the second time, Gavril’s done something that seems utterly out of character: being kind just for the sake of it.

Just then, someone familiar-looking shuffles by.

“Jimmy!” I exclaim.

He stops in his tracks like he’s been caught stealing, and stares at me. For a moment, I worry I’ve got the wrong guy. But the salt-and-pepper scraggles of hair, wide-set chlorine-colored eyes, black and blue boxing coat, patchouli smell—there’s no mistaking him.

“It’s Joy,” I say, trying another smile.

“Joy?” he says, like it’s a different language.

“Yeah, I … it’s me. From Tent City?”

“Huh.” He tosses a Cheeto in his mouth, his eyes going to Gavril, then back to me again, bulging. “How did you …”

“I got married.” I laugh a little, feeling glib and stupid. I didn’t say hi to rub my improved circumstances in his face or anything. It just felt genuinely good seeing a familiar face. “I … Gavril, this is Jimmy. He stops in at Tent City from time to time. Helped me clean up trash around it once or twice.”

“Any friend of Joy’s is a friend of mine, too,” Gavril starts to take some money out of his wallet, then seems to think better of it. Instead, he hands him a card. “You ever want work—full- or part-time—you go to my warehouse on Cummings and we’ll get you set right up.”

Jimmy accepts and clutches the card like it might disappear at any second. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Gavril says.

“Yeah.” Jimmy ducks his head low, his expression going weird as he throws me a final wave.

I stare after him, my heart kicking against my rib cage.

“Not all problems can be solved by throwing money at them,” Gavril says quietly, as much to himself as to me. “I thought, maybe, if I gave him an opportunity …”

I squeeze his arm gently. “You did the right thing. Now, let’s eat. The food’s getting cold.”

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