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“What is it?”
“Well, with the holidays coming up, I was wondering if I could discuss the possibility of getting my Christmas bonus in advance?”
There's a tightness to his voice. Anxiety dripping off his every syllable. I can tell this isn't an easy conversation for him to have, and it's taking all his strength to even broach the subject in the first place.
“You see, my children,” Arman sighs. “They want these new skateboards. Except they're not skateboards. They're electronic and they only have one wheel that you're supposed to balance on… Unsafe, if you ask me, but they've been begging me and their mother for one to share. And I was hoping… Well, we wereallhoping—”
“All?” I echo.
“Me and the rest of the night shift boys.” Arman clears his throat, obviously uncomfortable. “They're all waiting just outside for their turn to talk to you.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and pray my oncoming headache away. I don't want to spend the next thirty minutes to an hour talking about early Christmas bonuses. What Iwantis to go see Nikita. If I'm lucky, maybe I can catch the tail end of her rehearsal. Getting to see her twirl, that perfect smile on her lips—it's exactly what I need to de-stress right now. I would need more of her, for that matter, but I’ll take what I can get outside of my cabin where she’s concerned.
“Tell them all to come in,” I instruct. “Might as well save myself time.”
The night shift shuffles in sheepishly. Vlad smiles at me as usual, but Georgi and Kostya can't bring themselves to look me in the eye. I'm more than aware I have that kind of effect on people.
“Arman has brought forward your request,” I tell them, “but it's unfortunately not in the company's policy to give bonuses in advance.”
Georgi shifts his weight from foot to foot. “We understand, Mr. Nicolaevich, but we're really hoping you'll make an exception for us. We wouldn't ask you if we didn't each have a very good reason.”
I set my jaw, listening on the edge of my patience. “Tell me, then.”
“Arman's got his kids to think about. Georgi's kid is going to be back from college and he wants to help him buy next semester's textbooks. Kostya's been working three times as hard than the rest of us, and I… Well, my mother's in the hospital, sir. I'm hoping to use my bonus to pay for her treatment.”
I breathe deeply. I'm not an unreasonable man. I can understand that things are always tight around the holiday season. Gift shopping. The feasts. The family gatherings. In the end, everything racks up.
But rules are rules. If I make an exception for these four and word gets out, I run the risk of every single one of our employees asking for their bonuses early. Frankly, that's additional paperwork and a conversation with our payroll department I donothave the energy to have.
“Please, Mr. Nicolaevich?” Georgi asks, his voice small and timid. He's an older gentleman, the strain of his years evident in his vocal chords. “Just this once?”
I glance at my wristwatch. They must have known it would be easier to approach me as a group rather than one on one. Luckily for them, I'm eager to get to the Bolshoi, otherwise I would never have even entertained the thought.
“You keep this between us,” I say sternly. “I'll grant you this request, but it's an exception only. I better not have the rest of the company knocking down my door. Got it?”
“Thank you, Mr. Nicolaevich!” Arman says, joy and relief practically rolling off of him. “Thank you so much.”
“Don't mention it.” I hit them with a hard glare. “Seriously. Don't mention it.”
* * *
The security guard won't let me into the building. “I'm sorry, sir, but this is a private entrance.”
“I'm aware of that. That's why I'm using it.”
“Sir—”
“What's it going to take for you to let me in through those doors...” I scan the ID badge clipped to the breast pocket of his shirt uniform. “Pavel,” I read.
“Are you trying to bribe me?”
“I didn't say that.” I reach into my pocket and pull out my wallet, opening it to flash the cash I'm carrying. His eyes glisten, just as I expected they would. People are so predictable. Money makes the world go round, and I have more than enough to solve all my problems.
The security guard throws a cautious look both ways before taking the money.
“This will be our little secret,” I tell him.
“You're not, like, going to murder someone or something, are you?”
