I pour us some more, and then I ask him point blank about a deal that’s in the works I’m not sure about.
It’s a small deal, loaning out a strip club that Alek used to launder, cover deals and make a quick buck by letting others pay us to hold their riskier shipments.
It’s not really that. Not for me. It’s the out of country small time cartel who want it for a two week period.
“So, what do you think?”
“Alek knew them.”
“Your thoughts?”
He half smiles, a little tight at the edges. “You’re the boss.”
Shit. It’s clear he doesn’t want to do anything but toe the line, but I lean forward.
“Melor, one thing I’ve learned from my long friendship and working with Demyan Yegorov is this—honesty works. We’re always honest.”
I ignore the twitch in my jaw, a reminder about my current dishonesty regarding his sister.
“Even when he doesn’t like what I have to say, I tell him my thoughts, my reasons, and if he’s flat wrong, I’ll tell him. He does the same with me. It’s different from here where the respect game is taken to the extreme level. It’s a mutual thing of trust and openness, and that’s what I want, at least with the high-ups.” I meet his gaze. “At least with my right-hand man, my second. You.”
“Me?”
I top up the glasses. Once we down them, I do it again. I leave the bottle in the middle, symbolizing the fact that it’s communal.
“The only way I lose respect is if someone panders or lies to make me feel good, or says that my decisions are right when they’re not. Yes-men make the one in charge think they’re invincible, and it leads to corruption. I watched Demyan work hard, and he got to where he is not through birth, but work. People respect him forhim, not for who his father was.”
“And you want that.”
“I need that,” I say.
“I don’t like the deal.” He outlines why, and I nod.
Though there are a few places we differ, his reasons echo mine when it comes down to it. It’s too risky, and there isn’t enough payoff, and ultimately, the quick up-front cash flow leads to trouble down the line. Or it could.
Cartel might have been something my grandfather had noissues breaking bread with, but for me? I’d want to know them. And yes, I’d want more to cover what they want to pay.
I spread my hands as he refills the glasses. “We’re not the last choice. The deal’s dead. Tomorrow, we take care of that.”
“And if they hold a grudge?”
“Why?” I shrug. “The bratva changed hands. It means a change of circumstances, and it hadn’t been signed. Just discussed. They don’t like it, we can pin the fault on me. In transition, it’s not smart for them to enter into this deal. Everyone walks with dignity intact.”
“Not you.”
“Me, too. This is my choice, and I’ll take a small hit in exchange for good relations and a dead bad deal.”
“I think I will enjoy working with you.”
We laugh, tap glasses, and continue to make inroads. When my phone buzzes, I’m tipsy enough to smile stupidly when I read that Alina’s driver’s on his way back with her.
When she gets home, we’re drunker still.
“Ah,malyshka, you’re back.”
Her blush makes her face glow so delightfully, and I grin at her, making her smile back.
“Join us,” I say.