Page 8 of Aleko
“Rami threatened him with a cleaver,” said Alma, looking impressed.
“Jesus,” swore Lia. “He shouldn’t have done that. That’s too dangerous. Alekos Ash is too powerful.”
“The other man, the one with the beard, made Ash leave,” said Alma. “They drove to the warehouse. He was furious.”
Lia shook her head. “I just need another five-hundred euro,and I could leave town,” she said. Alma gave her a look. They both knew five-hundred euro was a pipe dream.
“I think you should stay away for a few days,” said Alma, and Lia nodded.
“After Eizo picks me up,” she agreed. “I won’t come back.”
“Good luck,” said Alma and hugged her quickly before returning the way she had come.
Lia went and stood under the olive tree and tried to resist checking her phone. Ordinarily, she would put out her cardboard and wait in the rickety plastic chair in the shade of the branches. But today, Lia was too nervous. To give her hands something to do, she put on more sunscreen. Getting too dark made her look unprofessional—like she didn’t spend enough time in an office. She knew it was racist, but it was also still a fact. So she coughed up the euros to invest in sunscreen. She had discovered many hidden costs to maintaining the appearance of being upper class. She knew many of the other refugees thought she was snooty because of it, but it directly fed into her prices. She had to look worth it to get better jobs and higher rates. She put on her good shoes and stood still again, keeping to the shadow of the tree.
She heard the car before it made the turn onto the port road. The big trucks all took the main road, but employees and owners took this road, which is why she had picked it. She recognized the black SUV as it slowed down and went out to meet it.
“What’s up, Sergio?” Lia asked, approaching the SUV as the driver’s window rolled down. She hated this part. She knew most of the other vendors along the side of the road where she worked assumed she was a hooker. She got plenty of offers, but she hadn’t been that hungry yet.
Sergio was Italian, although it was difficult to see who or what anyone was through the ubiquitous facemasks. Lia had hers dangling around her neck, but she didn’t get close enough to thecar to warrant pulling it up.
“Meeting with Arabs,” he said. “You available this evening?”
Lia hesitated. Sergio’s warehouse was directly across from the Ash warehouse. But on the other hand, Sergio hated Alekos Ash, so maybe it would be OK.
“I can cancel someone for you,” she offered. “But I’ll need extra.”
“Two hundred?” he offered, and Lia felt a jangle of adrenaline at the thought of so much cash. She knew she should take it and shut the hell up, but Lia did what she’d done for the last nine months—she pushed.
“Two-fifty,” she said, and Sergio made a face.
“Fine,” he agreed grudgingly but without fighting. Whoever he was meeting must be worth a lot of cash to him.
She nodded, and he drove off, leaving a slight blush of air-conditioned breeze in the humid Greek atmosphere. Following her ingrained ritual, she entered the meeting in her calendar, avoiding the crack in the screen that could still slice her finger even months after it had been broken. Then she turned the phone back to sleep mode. She was also running low on battery. She took a deep breath and steadied herself. Two hundred and fifty euros would go a long way to making up what she’d missed from Galatas. If she skipped out on this week’s hostel fee and took a bus to Athens instead of a train, she might be able to make it. She was almost out of Kavala. She just had to make it through tonight.
Nervously, she checked the road again. Nothing had moved at the warehouses, although the sun was now causing heat ripples on the road. Her phone beeped. It was a regular who wanted her for the rush hour at his restaurant. He wanted to pay less than half her usual rates to answer the phone during the lunch rush but was also offering tips, two meals, and a bottle of wine. She said yes. The food he thought of as two meals was at least four.Unfortunately, she had no way to keep the food, but she could share one of the meals with Rami and take the wine to Alma as a parting gift. Alma wouldn’t drink it, but she would be able to trade it for something useful. Lia sighed, thinking of Rami. He had been a university professor, but watching everyone on his boat drown within sight of the Greek mainland had pushed him into a relapse.
Rami had been the one who had told her to prioritize her phone and calendar. Stress and trauma caused something calledallostatic loadin the brain, meaning that she was exhausted even when her body was jittery, and she had the memory of a goldfish. He also said it made it hard to long-term plan because her brain was constantly on the brink of flight or fight. His advice had helped her compensate. Lia wished she could help him, but beyond slipping him some food once a week, there wasn’t much she could do. Curing heroin addiction was way beyond her capabilities. And after tonight, she wouldn’t be able to do anything for him. At least she would be able to give him one last meal before she left town.
Lia glanced at the road and watched as a police van turned and approached her tree.
Episode 7
The Warehouse
Alex
Alex entered the warehouse through the wolf door that everyone pretended not to notice and went to his office to put his human back on. He’d done eight laps around the place in his wolf shape, trying to work off his temper.
Once he was wearing clothes again, he went to find Pellos in the office down the hall. They didn’t have a lot of office staff, and with the pandemic, they’d pushed even more of the team to work from home. It was convenient for everyone, really. They were now down to a handful in the accounting department who needed specialized software and Pellos—who was on the phone, yelling at someone as Alex entered.
Alex had not been born in Greece, but after forty years in the country, he knew the language, and Pellos was making the air smoke with a string of profanities, some that Alex hadn’t heard in a few decades. Pellos was nearly forty and had been with Alex for thirty years—ever since he’d tried to pick Alex’s pocket. It was still startling to see glimmers of the boy he remembered in the man in front of him. It seemed like he’d blinked, and Pellos was grown. Humans changed too quickly. Or maybe all parents longed for the days when problems could be solved with hugs or a superhero Band-Aid. Although, in general, Alex didn’t miss the stinky teenage years.
“What’s the problem?” asked Alex as Pellos slammed the phone down.
“Customs delay for the shipment from India,” said Pellos. “Dock workers strike in the UK. The Greens are in jail but say they’ll be back soon.” The face that went with that newsinformed him that Pellos very much doubted that, and Alex groaned.
“They’re supposed to be here and ready to go,” Alex growled angrily. “I should never have let them wander off last night, but I wanted to go after the damn warlocks.”
