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“Well, you wanted this meeting, get to the point.” Bobby Commands.
“Yeah, forget the foreplay let’s get to the main event!” Paul exclaims.
“Peace with the Chicago Bratva.” I lean back in my chair, waiting for Bobby and Paul's response. They exchange a look, sizing me up.
“Peace with the Bratva, huh?” Bobby repeats my words.
“That’s right, Bobby, you broke Omerta, and the Antonovich Brothers want your head. I can give you peace. I can make sure you stay alive. You can quit looking over your shoulder.” I confirm.
“I don’t look over my shoulder,” Bobby retorts.
“Yeah, we ain't afraid of you,” Paul adds.
"The Bratva was chased out of Chicago. The cops took away everything. You've got nothing. You will have to start over at square one. You have no power here. You are nothing. The Outfit is in control of Chicago, and rightfully so. The Bratva's days in Chicago are over, were over when the Antonovich brothers went to prison," Bobby explains.
Leaning back in my chair, I fold my arms across my chest. "That may be true, but times are changing. The old ways are no longer sustainable. We need to adapt if we want to survive. I have a proposition for you. I have developed a new drug, something that will blow all the other shit out of the water. And I want you to distribute it in exchange for returning the Bratva's drug territories in Chicago to me."
"You've got some balls, Fedorov!" Paul exclaims.
"I also want you to call off your aldermen and stop Chicago from rezoning the property that Velvet Handcuffs occupies, blocking it from being turned into residential. I know the Outfit is behind that move since you have several Chicago aldermen in your pocket. I just want back what belongs to the Bratva."
"Is that all?" Bobby asks.
"Yes," I reply.
"What kind of drug are we talking about here?" Bobby asks, his voice low and serious.
"This isn't just any drug. It's a game-changer. My designer cocaine, stronger and more addictive than anything on the market. And we have the means to produce it in large quantities," I explain, my voice confident.
Paul leans forward, his eyes narrowed. "And what's in it for us?"
"We're offering you exclusive distribution rights," Misha smoothly interjects. "And a cut of the profits, of course."
"Not interested!" Paul exclaims.
Bobby sighs.
Leaning forward, my eyes locked onto Bobby's, I speak. "Listen, Bobby, I know you're a smart businessman. You know an opportunity when you see one. And this is it. You can't keep relying on the same old shit forever. You need to evolve, to stay ahead of the game. This drug is going to be big. It's going to revolutionize the market. You and the Outfit will make millions. Don't you want to be a part of that?"
Bobby shakes his head. "It's not worth the risk. The feds are cracking down hard on drug trafficking, and I don't want to draw any unnecessary attention to us. We'll stick to our current operations."
I raise an eyebrow in surprise. I had expected some pushback, but I didn't think Bobby would be so dismissive.
"Consider it carefully," I warn. "Because if you don't, things will get very ugly for the Outfit."
Bobby chuckles, but there's a hint of doubt in his eyes. "We have more power than you could ever dream of, Fedorov. We control the police, the politicians, and the judges. We are the law in this city."
I lean back in my chair and take a deep breath. "You underestimate the power of the Bratva," I say, my voice calm and steady. "We may have been down, but we are not out. We are regrouping, rebuilding, and getting stronger every day. And you, the Outfit, are not invincible. Your days of control are numbered. And when the time is right, we will take back what is rightfully ours."
Bobby and Paul exchange glances, their expressions unreadable. The tension in the room ramps up, and for a moment, no one speaks.
Finally, Bobby leans forward and speaks. "Let me make something clear. The Outfit will not allow the Bratva to regain a foothold in Chicago. We will do whatever it takes to maintain our power and control over this city."
I meet his gaze, my eyes hard and unflinching. "The Bratva will not be silenced so easily. We will fight for what is ours, and we will not back down. The question is, are you willing to risk everything to stop us?"
I thread my hands together and place them in front of me on the table. Right then a waitress comes to our table and Paul waves her off.
Bobby shakes his head with his $200 haircut.
