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I’m usually a pessimist through and through.
But somehow, this man cast a spell on me, and now I’m waxing poetic.
I need to go back to real life, but when I’m here, like this, I don’t want to.“Do you have to leave today?”
“No.”
“Your meetings—they went okay?”
“As good as they could.” He lets out a sigh. “I have to ask you something. I know the answer, but I still need to ask.”
I tense, not having a clue where this is going. “Okay?”
He shuffles around and pulls out a picture. The image on the paper is grainy, but what I do notice is it’s of my brother. There is also another man I’ve never seen before talking to Roman in the image.
As I look at the picture, it feels like my heart is being squeezed in my chest. Roman looks dirty and strung out. This isn’t an old picture. “Do you recognize him?”
I narrow my eyes and study it closely. “Not really? Should I?”
Gideon inhales deeply. “Please, firefly, think.”
I try to remember if I’ve ever seen this picture of the older man. He’s got dark hair, and he looks older, maybe in his fifties. He’s wearing a well-fitted suit.
I take the picture out of his hand and lift it closer to get a better view. There’s something familiar about him. But I can’t place it.Think, Sasha.Where have you seen him?
Closing my eyes, I run through memories in my head. Images flash in my mind.
Then it hits me. My eyes snap open. “Yes.”
“Yes, you know him?” Gideon takes the picture back and points to the older man.
“Well, no. But I swear I’ve seen him…”
“It’s important.”
I furrow my brow, and another memory pops up in my mind. The image is clear as day.
“What is it?” Gideon asks.
“I think he knew my parents. It’s strange, and I’m not sure if it’s real, but I remember him. He was yelling at my dad.”
“Do you know what he was saying?”
I shake my head. “I saw him outside our apartment building on the street. No one knew I was watching, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying because it was in another language. Who is he, Gideon?”
His fingers grip the picture tighter. “That’s Dima Markov.”
“Should that name mean anything to me?”
Gideon’s shoulders tense, but then he exhales. “He’s a Russian mob boss out of Brighton Beach.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.” The air grows stagnant, and I wonder if this is where the conversation ends, but then Gideon sighs. He’s not done with the inquisition. “Did Roman ever give you money?”
I laugh. “You’re kidding, right?”When I look back up at Gideon’s face, I expect him to be smirking at me, but instead, I’m met with a tight jaw and a face like stone.
“No.”
