Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
A few thousand dollars too.
“Be with you in a minute,” a man’s voice comes from the back. I wander around a little and check out some of the less expensive stuff he’s got displayed. Electric and acoustic guitars, a ten-speed bike, multiple baseball bats, stereos and speakers. The high-end stuff is behind glass display cases. Rings and watches, necklaces and bracelets. Even a few old baseball cards.
“Since when did you start collecting these?” I point at a card for a guy named Stan Musial.
“Had an old fart bring them in last week.” Frank O’Hare grunts as he drags himself over to the case, bends down, and brings up the cards. “Real old stuff. I think that one’s worth a lot.”
“Pretty cool,” I admit, even though baseball cards aren’t really my thing. “Think he’ll come back for them?”
“Doubt it. Guy’s an addict.” Frank’s not too precious about his clientele. He understands better than most the whims life can throw at a person. He’s stocky, on the shorter side, covered in dark hair with bushy eyebrows and a ponytail. His glasses are thick, and he dresses like a cross between a banker and a hippie. Lots of khaki pants and tie-dye shirts.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of the great Lev Federov’s company?” Frank asks after putting away the cards.
“What, I can’t stop by my favorite vendor and shoot the shit?”
Frank snorts and shakes his head. He takes off his glasses and rubs them with a cloth from his pocket. His fingers are stained black with grease and dirt, and his nails are neatly trimmed. “Not fucking likely.”
He’s also not precious about his business partners.
“I’m making the rounds and checking in on people. There are changes coming to Fed Jewelers.”
Frank frowns at me and leans back against the display behind him. An old African mask looms over his shoulder like a creepy second head. “What kind of changes? You’re not cutting back, are you?”
“Not even a little bit. I’m actually taking a bigger role these days. If I get my way, you won’t really hear from my father much moving forward.”
Frank’s lips press together, and his eyebrows raise. He doesn’t immediately look suspicious, which is good, but he’s not an idiot. Frank supplies Fed Jewelers with most of their watch bracelets, some of them legit, many of them very good Chinese and Korean fakes, and he understands the nature of our family business.
“I value that relationship. You know I do. It’s why I’m coming here in person and giving you the heads-up.”
He sighs and rubs his face, leaving a little dark smear on his forehead. “This going to get bad between you and the old man, Lev?”
“I can’t say either way.”
“Shit.” He gives me a hard look. “I don’t like it.”
“I know you don’t, but you know my father better than most people in this city, and you know what he’s like.”
Frank grunts at that. He’s seen my father’s temper more than once. He witnessed the way my father used to punish me when we were younger. His expression goes slightly distant, and I know he’s remembering that afternoon when I dropped a bag of bracelets by accident, spilling them on Frank’s shop floor, and my father beat me bad enough to leave me spitting blood for three days. And that was the kind of punishment he was willing to dole out in front of a business partner.
“I have no hand in whatever’s going on between you and the old man, you know that. If he comes to me with some other story—”
“He won’t,” I assure him.
“Then I’m happy to keep doing business with you for as long as it makes sense between us.”
That’s what I wanted to hear. I figured Frank would be easy. We’ve always had a good relationship, as far as that goes, and he’s not the kind of guy to stick his nose into bratva business.
He holds up a hand before I can get out of there.
“But your old man’s going to find out,” he says, and his hard look means he’ll say something if it comes to that.
“I’m aware. Don’t worry. I won’t hold anything against you.”
He sighs but seems relieved. “Send my regards to Alexander. Did you know I was at your brother’s grave a couple of weeks back? My father’s buried in that same cemetery, and I stopped by.”
My stomach turns. I haven’t visited Step in almost a month. Guilt wraps around my throat. “How’s it look?”
“Clean. Fresh flowers. Someone’s been going.”
“That’s good. Probably Natalya.”
“She’s good people. Anyway, just wanted you to know.” Frank wipes his hands together and turns away. “Good luck with whatever trouble you’re starting.”
He heads into the back. I linger in the shop a moment longer.
If only all my visits could be this easy.
But Frank’s loyalty was never to my father. I think the pawnbroker always cared more about me and Step than he ever did about our dad.