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“What are the drugs for?”he asked evenly.
“What the fuck do youthinkthey’re for?”
He shrugged.“If you’re as much of a waste of space as you want me to think you are, then they’re probably for you to get high for an hour before you come crashing down to the reality that your life is meaningless and no one cares about you.”
Plenty of people had made it clear over the course of my life that they didn’t give a fuck about me. But no one had actually said it out loud. It was a new experience for me. I was speechless.
“But,”Sergey continued,“if you have even an ounce of potential for usefulness, you’ll buy the drugs, upcharge some rich frat boy, and pay me back with interest.”
I stared at him, hesitant to respond because it had to be some kind of trap.“You’d rather I be selling drugs than using them?”
“You have two options in this life, Timofey: you can be chewed up by life and spit out or you can be of service. Of service to others and to yourself. I only have time for one kind of person. I’ll let you figure out which.”
Sergey doesn’t have a moral code. He has a benchmark.Have you made yourself useful to me?
Either you meet it or you don’t.
So far in my life, I’ve met it.
I meet his eyes now. “The man accused me of making an unfair deal for the shipment. He disrespected me openly in front of his men and mine. You wouldn’t have let it stand, either.”
“You didn’t have to kill him, though.”
I glance down the table. Pavel already looks uncomfortable. I’ve known him almost as long as I’ve known Sergey. He’s my brother as much as Akim is, which means he calls me out on my shit. It’s why he’s a lieutenant, even if it is annoying.
“No, I didn’t have to,” I agree. “I could have threatened him. Again. Maybe given the Albanian leadership another warning. There’s nothing quite as scary as a slap on the wrist.”
Pavel holds up his hands and leans back, bowing out of this discussion.
But Rodion takes the opportunity to lean forward. “There is a middle ground between a threat and a bullet between the eyes, Timofey. A shot to the knee could have worked to bring him back in line.”
“Excellent idea. Stand up and let’s give it a try.”
His brow furrows. “Don’t equate me with an Albanian.”
“I wouldn’t. And I don’t,” I explain. “Because when you stood in front of the CPS worker assigned to Benjamin’s case and nearly told her what the tattoos on your inner arm mean, I didn’t kill youthe way I should have.”
Rodion’s jaw grinds. His eyes cast nervously in my father’s direction, waiting to see what he thinks about this reveal.
I don’t need to turn around and see. The only opinion I care about is mine. Rodion has been way out of line lately, ever since everything happened with Emily. It’s long past time to rein him in.
I continue, pacing back and forth as I speak. “I trust that you have the good sense and loyalty to respect me. To respect my authority. I don’t have that same trust in the Albanians.”
“It’s not so much what you did,” Sergey interrupts. “It’s who it was.”
“The man was a nobody. I’d never even seen him before.”
“Not him. Arber.”
I sigh. Even the Xhuvani boy’s name is enough to evoke a response in me. He was a spineless weasel as a kid and he’s an entitled prick as an adult.
“If Arber doesn’t want his men to end up dead, he should make sure to control them,” I say. Their lack of respect for him made them far too bold in talking to me. That’s on him.”
“Kreshnik might not see it that way,” Rodion suggests.
I spin around, top lip curled back. “Then we’ll make him see it that way. He knows his son better than anyone. He knows Arber isn’t equipped to lead. It’s why it has taken him so long to hand over control.”
“You’re right. Kreshnik knows Arber is a problem. That doesn’t mean he’ll take an attack like this lying down.”
