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A murmur of agreement rises from the table. I sit back, feeling more confident than I have in a while.
I have a plan.
But most importantly, I have a family.
Now, the one thing I have left to do is to figure out a way to keep it.
31
RUSLAN
Keeping my family begins here. At the offices ofThe Brooklyn Gazette.
For starters, that name’s got to go. It stinks of shoddy reporting and lowbrow paparazzi. Considering Remmy Jefferson has a tiny cubicle down the hall, that about confirms it.
This building is gonna need a fucking makeover, too.
I don’t plan on coming here often, but when I do, I want somewhere to sit that doesn’t erupt with cockroaches the moment my ass touches the chair.
There’s a tentative knock on my door and then the portly assistant whose name I’ve already forgotten pokes her head inside.
“Sir? He’s here. Should I send him in?”
I smile. It’s a day for genuine grins. Things are happening now that should’ve happened a long, long time ago. “Please.”
She holds the door open and Remmy Jefferson walks in looking extremely confused. His confusion transforms to shock when he sees me sitting at the desk that, only last evening, belonged to someone else entirely.
His nostrils flare with panic when the door snaps closed behind him. He looks around the barren office like I might have goons here ready to beat him senseless.
No need. I can do that myself.
“W-where’s Leonard?”
I cock my legs and lean back in the rickety chair. “Leonard? I don’t know a Leonard. Unless… Oh! Of course. Silly me. Do you mean Leonard Mathers, publisher and editor-in-chief ofThe Brooklyn Gazette?ThatLeonard?”
He bares his teeth at me. “Yes.ThatLeonard. What have you done to him?”
I take the name plaque that sits obnoxiously at the front of the table. I observe it with interest for a moment before I toss it in the trash can.Leonard Mathers.“So many things to get rid of…” I muse under my breath.
But I’ll start with the biggest piece of trash in front of me.
“I’ll call security,” Remmy blurts.
I laugh at that one. “And tell them what?”
“That you’ve abducted our publisher and… and done God knows what to him!” His fingers are trembling, as is his lip. His skin has lost what little color he had left. He looks like a walking ghost.
Soon, he’s going to be a real one.
“There’s no reason to involve God,” I scold. “You can just ask me what I’ve done to him. Or you could ask the board, too. They know what happened to Leonard Mathers as well.”
Remmy’s eyes go wide as his tiny little brain finally starts putting all the pieces together. “T-there’s been talk the last few days. Talk of a… b-buyer for the paper…”
I didn’t think it was possible for a person to be any paler. Remmy has taught me one thing today, at least.
I spread my arms wide to encompass this whole godforsaken building. “Welcome to my newspaper, Mr. Jefferson.”
He balks. “No. No! It’s not possible. It’s too fast. It’s—”
