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“I know he will. He might have everything, but just like all rich kids, there’s thatonething he wants that he can’t have. Since he’s not used to being told ‘no’, thatthingwill hang over his head, taunting him until he gets it. In this case, it’s my cooperation with his organization,” I explain.
“Do you want me to set up a meeting with him then?” he asks inquisitively. I can see in his expression that he’s not sold on the idea, and I know Luka is one of his least favorite people on the planet.
“Yeah, try to make it somewhere public like one of the bars in his Instagram pictures. That way, there will be a lot going on around him. He’ll probably be really drunk, and swiping his phone will be easier.”
“What if we requested a meeting athisplace? Wouldn’t that cut out all of the unnecessary steps?” he asks, silently begging me not to make him plan a night out with the most annoying mobster in the city.
I shake my head. “That would be too obvious. If we ask to meet at his place, he’ll know we’re on to him. If we offer to take him out, he’ll be flattered and more likely to let his guard down.”
I can see the connection made in Shura’s mind. “Oh, I see. Okay, I’ll set up something and let you know the details when I have them,” he says, returning to his work.
A few hours later, I get a text from Luka. “Looks like you’re having second thoughts about turning me down, huh? That’s okay. We can talk about it over drinks tonight,” he says.
I’m absolutely positive that he wanted to text me as soon as he got the invite from Shura, but he waited to play it cool. I know better than that. He’s going to over-act so much that he makes a fool of himself tonight, in addition to letting his guard down.
* * *
Later in the night,Shura and I go to the rooftop bar as planned, getting there a half-hour early to make sure we know where everything is so that we don’t have a disadvantage. Luka comes here all the time; I’m sure he’s had to mentally prepare for the possibility of a shootout. He likely has all of the exits mapped out in his head.
When Luka shows up, he’s wearing the smug grin that you would expect from a child who cheated at a board game and thinks he got away with it. It’s no matter to me; he’s the one who’s going to get cheated over here.
“So nice to see you two, Akim and, uh,” he pauses at Shura’s name. “Rurik? Is that which one you are?”
Shura sighs heavily. “No,” he replies, refusing to give him the correct name.
Luka is caught off-guard by Shura’s curt response, but he quickly shakes it off and brings us over to his favorite table in the bar.
“I’m going to go order some drinks for us. You guys just wait here. I know the bartender. She’ll get us whatever we want,” he says with obtuse confidence as he walks away from the table.
As soon as he’s out of earshot, I look down at the phone that he’s left face-down on the table.
“He left his phone. Should we just go for it now?” Shura asks with anticipation. I can understand why he’d want to get this all over with, but it’s not the right time yet.
“No, just wait until he’s a little fucked up. I’ve seen Luka drink before. He’s a lightweight, and he blacks out easily. He just wants to keep up with whoever he’s with. Since I drink more than you and he’s obsessed with me, he’ll probably try to outdo me. Just be patient. You’ll know when,” I reply.
Shura shrugs, and within a few minutes, Luka has returned to the table with a round of vodka-based mixed drinks.
“Oh, I don’t really drink mixers. Can I get a vodka on the rocks?” I ask, watching the arrogance leave Luka’s eyes as it’s replaced with anxiety.
“Uh, yeah, that’s actually a better idea,” he replies, awkwardly setting all of the drinks in front of Shura as he returns to the bar.
“See how easy that was?” I say to Shura, who nods.
When Luka comes back, I take my tumbler of vodka from him and take a long, exaggerated drink. “Goddamn, it’s been a long week. How have things been with you, Luka?” I ask, using all of my acting skills to sell my performance of giving a shit.
“Oh, you know, work is work. Things are looking really good with our little side-project, though. I think you’d be impressed. Maybe even a little jealous,” he says, trying to bait me into further questions.
Under normal circumstances, I’d tell him I don’t care and would pour his drink over his head. This time, I need to play the part.
Throughout the night, Luka’s resolve grows weaker and weaker the more he drinks. One vodka after another after another, and he’s practically on the floor trying not to puke in front of the group of sorority girls that showed up a half-hour ago.
“Hey, you okay?” I ask, watching as the color in Luka’s face lessens and lessens.
“I’m just going to… uh, I’ll be right back,” he replies, getting out of his chair and steadying himself on the table as his phone falls out of his coat pocket and clatters on the floor.
Luka doesn’t notice, stumbling away from the table like the bar is a boat amidst a violent storm.
“Now,” I whisper to Shura.
