#fla chrono

[streetlites]

My great-grandfather had told me that no one would ever appreciate the amount of effort it took to run the family business. It was still a hard lesson to learn, despite the warning.

You don't have to like what I do. I don't care if you agree with my decisions. Just know who keeps the money in your accounts.

[streetlites]

When I'm walking through a room and only see wallets; when I'm exploiting some poor child's circumstances to further my agenda; when I'm threatening someone's livelihood for not following my instructions to the letter - I wonder - would the girl I used to be proud of me? I truly do not know.

[streetlites]

I sighed as I turned on the manual drive system. Driving always gave me a sort of calm - something to focus on and quiet running thoughts. I floored it going onto the tunnel leaving Windenburg heading down to Newcrest turnpike, my detail falling behind - hoping to lose them in the early morning traffic.

The early morning DJs had switched to other topics of conversation but I could only imagine my wife's rage when she'd hear about it. She was angry enough that our daughter had brought her boyfriend, but to hear 'hot and heavy'? I winced. It wouldn't come from me. I didn't know if it was an act of rebellion or a way of protecting the man but I do know that Vera always has a reason behind her actions. And considering how discrete she always had been, she was sending a message. One I didn't understand, but I suppose the message hadn't been meant for me.

Whatever it was, to say Emilia was pissed was an understatement - which is why I was now barreling down the turnpike to Newcrest; she wouldn't have been in a place to handle this delicately. I quickly passed the north side that had been part of my family's territory for generations into the buffer zone that we'd agreed upon with the Landgraabs - back when our families were little more than bands fighting over rubble.

I almost admired her ingenuity to hide herself here. Not that it mattered. Once my wife had a sneaking suspicion about why she wasn't in medical school, she would have sniffed her out even if she had ran to Sulani. Territory or no, she would have jumped in and lit up anyone in the way. That's what I loved about Emilia, her tenacity. Her fearlessness. But my wife on a visit to someone when she was already outraged? Well, that was not the makings of a good first impression.

I frowned as the GPS chimed to take an exit on a road lined with rundown strip malls, a few looking to be mostly vacant. I didn't feel any better when I turned down the road to go to my target's apartment - there were multiple complexes, most had the look of old, repurposed motels. I was only slightly relieved to see the complex she resided in seemed to be newer.

There were children riding in circles on the lawn and parking lot, one stopping to ogle my car. I smiled at him politely as I killed the engine and stepped out. "Braden! Come back up here!," yelled a woman from her seat outside of her apartment.

The boy, Braden presumably, ignored her. "Cool car!" he squeals, hopping from foot to foot. "Does it go really fast? I bet it goes super fast!"

"Braden!" can the voice again.

"It does," I tell him. "Say, if I paid you, would you watch my car for me? Make sure no one scratches it?"

"Really? Okay!" The child's eyes grow wide as I opened my wallet and handed him a few bills,"Oh! Oh! Do you mean it? I can keep all of this?"

"Absolutely." I stuff the wallet in my back pocket.

"Can my friends help me?"

"If you want them to. It's up to you if you want to pay them, too."

I walk past the child as he calls out to his friends and they exclaim in excitement. "Braden!"

"He's working for me right now," I chuckle but the woman doesn't smile or laugh back.

"He's a good boy. I don't want him involved with none of that. And he's not missing the bus just to watch your car neither."

I don't respond as I go up the stairs, shaking my head. It wasn't as if I actually cared if that car was scratched or not, it was a delight to see how excited the kid was. A reminder of my boys who'd grown out of that stage long ago.

I reached the apartment I was looking for and knocked loudly on the door. There were quiet sounds coming from behind it but no answer. I knocked again, "Ms. White, I know you're in there and if you don't answer, I'm coming in anyway."

"I-I'll call the police!" she warns.

"Good luck," I scoff. "Open up. Now."

The door cracks open and there she stands, body blocking the entryway, arms crossed, "What do you want?" she demands.

[streetlites]

Yulian and Emilia

[streetlites]

The woman behind the desk lips tightened into a line when we entered into the shop. Considering she continued her knitting and didn’t reach for the phone on her desk to call the police, it was easily the best experience I’ve ever had with an old woman in Clara Vista.

Vera, on the other hand, was not used to such treatment; she was rich and expected shop people to jump as soon as she demanded it of them. Her eyes narrowed at the elderly woman, “We’re here to see Roman Alenko.”

“Mr. Alenko-D'Angelo does not see customers who do not have an appointment,” the woman sniffs, still not looking up from the small yarn square in her hands.

“Then you need to check again because we have an appointment with him,” Vera answers, scowling.

“I can assure you, you do not. He only had one appointment booked earlier today.”

I shake my head at them both, Vera has decided that this woman MUST contact her uncle and the other woman has stubbornly decided not to. When I was younger, my father had told me that a real man doesn’t fight against children or the elderly; if he does, he’s already lost. I still hold this belief to be true, even if I don’t always follow it because of my occupation.  

No matter, her uncle is in here somewhere; I will find another way around the elderly woman. I look around the small shop, richly decorated in carved ebony and leather. I take a pastry from off of the sideboard table to my left as I take in the racks of expensive suits and shoes.

“I needn’t tell you not to touch anything with your sticky fingers, do I, boy?” The woman’s voice sounds. Boy. I roll my eyes, this is more on par from what I’ve come to expect from people in this neighborhood.

“No, ma'am,” I respond. Had this been anyone else’s shop, I would have immediately wiped my hands on the suits hanging nearby but I had a feeling that any disrespect would come back to bite me in the ass from The Big Boss. My lips quirk at Vera’s outraged ‘fucking excuse you?’.

There’s three doors, two look to be changing rooms. I knock on the third, “Hello, Mr. Alenko?” I call out in Spanish.

The door opens to reveal a tall, thin man who strongly resembles Vera – or is it the other way around? “Yes?” his eyes widen appreciatively at me before snapping to where his niece stands at the front of his store, arguing with his secretary. He sucks at his teeth and walks toward the two, “There’s my favorite niece*!” he announces in loudly in Spanish.  

“Niece*?” Vera says in mock offense and laughs.

“Well of course, girl, your brothers order suits from me all the time,” her uncle quips. He notices the other woman staring at them angrily, “You and your boyfriend help yourselves to snacks, I need to speak to my mother-in-law.”

Vera’s eyes narrow again at the mention of the other woman. I gently pull her toward me and kiss the top of her head – I don’t want her to get sucked back into that fight, but you can’t just tell Vera to leave things alone and expect her to listen. I feel her relax and she wraps her arms around me, content to ignore it for now.

“Doris, I told you they rescheduled for 3:30,” the man says in English and sighs.

“Well they didn’t call me,” the older lady argues.

“They don’t have to, they called me. It’s my time, my shop.”

“Roman, I don’t appreciate your tone.”

“What tone? There’s -” there’s a frustrated breath. “You know what? I left my design book in Dominick's salon, could you please go get it for me?”

“I’ll go tell Dom to run it back, I need a break.”

“No, no. Don’t make him bring it back; he has a salon to run with clients to -” The other woman doesn’t wait for him to finish before walking out the door. Roman’s nostrils flare as she leaves. “I’m truly sorry for her behavior. She wouldn’t accept our offer to buy her condo out in Las Tablas; she insisted she needed to work for it. I should have known something was up when Dom said he didn’t have any openings. I’m going to give her a big bonus at the end of the year for her ‘help’ so I can go back to seeing her every other year on holidays like God intended.” he gripes.  

“Uncle, your shop is so small, why don’t you let mom buy you a bigger place out here?” Vera asks, still leaning into me.

“Girl, I get nervous just accepting Christmas presents from your mother. I don’t have the stomach to find out what strings are attached to something that costs hundreds of millions of dollars.”

“I could buy it for you then. No strings attached.”

The older man snorts, “My sister raised you, I’m not so stupid as to think she didn’t teach you to never do anything for free. Besides, I’m just fine here. So!” he claps his hands, “Let me see a picture of the dress you’re going to be wearing.”

“Well,” Vera pulls out her phone and shows her uncle that makes his eyebrows rise, “I think I’m going to choose this one but they have this one and this one that I’m going to try on, too.” she says, swiping at the screen.

“When’s your fitting?”

“Oh, Kenneth told me to come by whenever I had time.”

“Whenever? Must be nice to be rich enough to have Kenneth okay with you just dropping in.”

Vera laughs, “It is.”

Roman shakes his head good-naturedly, “Go now and decide, I like having the person on hand to select fabric, I can’t stand doing it from memory.” He shoos her toward the door. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of your man, you go and drink your champagne and try your dresses on.”

I turn and look at a suit on a mannequin, the cloth is thick and smooth to the touch. “I appreciate you taking the time to see me today,” I tell the older man as soon as my girlfriend leaves the shop, “but I’m perfectly fine using one of these suits and having it tailored.”

Roman scoffs, “You might not be able to tell an off the rack suit from a bespoke one but I can tell you that the people watching this event can. And if you are to do anything to embarrass Vera during this event, your life span will be shortened to however long it takes my sister to send people for you.”

I felt myself bristle, it wouldn’t have been the first time that Emilia Volkov had made an attempt to have me killed. “Is that a threat? What does The Boss care about people’s opinions?”

“Not from me, no. And, while she doesn’t care for most people’s opinions, there’s a lot of old money at these events. They include my niece in their little circle because she was born a Volkov but they don’t think my sister belongs at all. Whenever one of them does something unacceptable, it’s always because Emi is infecting them with her peasantry,” the older man gives a dry laugh. “Doesn’t matter that my sister is the reason why the Volkov empire makes billions instead of millions or that she’s made them far more powerful than they ever were, she will never be one of them.”

“I thought your family was rich,” I said, following the other man into his office. It seemed strange that our boss had so much influence and none.

This brings a full cackle from Roman, “The only people who thought we were rich were flat broke. Growing up we were barely one step above The Heights. Maybe we would have been well off if my parents hadn’t decided to have 5 kids that they spent every penny to send to private school. It’s why my sister is the way she is; she got her first taste of power trying to get a room for herself. Who knows what she would have done if we’d actually had money.” He shakes his head, “Probably would have cured cancer and made the medicine too expensive to afford.”

The office was considerably brighter than the shop and messier with bolts of cloth and half-made suits hanging off of mannequins and racks screwed into the wall. “Stand on the platform, please,” he says as he plucks a roll of measuring tape from off of his desk. “Did you want something to drink? Champagne? Liquor? Sorry, I usually offer it first thing but my mother-in-law threw me off. God, I hate that woman.”

“No thank you.”

“Suit yourself,” the other man answers and pours out a small amount of brown into a glass that he quickly downs. He takes his time measuring me, writing the numbers down on a small, paper notepad instead of using the tablet on his desk. We hear the door chime and Vera’s uncle lets out a quiet, annoyed grunt. “Doris?” he calls.

“It’s me, babe,” a voice answers. The door swings open to reveal a man who appears to be Roman’s polar opposite; short, heavily muscled, and dressed in extremely casual clothes.

“I told her not to bother you,” he sighs and gives his husband a look.

“Well, she told me you had a man in here and was trying to get rid of her,” he chuckles. “I see why she told Malcolm to piss up a rope now. Vera’s boyfriend?” I tilt my head to look at the man in the doorway. She never mentioned a Malcolm and I didn’t know anyone with that name.

Roman sucks at his teeth. “You’re trying to start some shit, just like your mama. Yes, this is her boyfriend, god help him.”

[streetlites]

Clara Vista is a beautiful neighborhood in the Uptown District of San Myshuno. The main thoroughfare has large, intricately carved stone buildings on both sides, framing an imposing grey Cathedral. If you meant to get your mama a special present, you’d go here instead of Cascabel Plaza. Likewise, if you really wanted to impress your girl, you’d make a reservation at one of their cafes and pray you were still together a year later when it opened up.  

Roman Alenko was Vera’s uncle. He had a shop off of the Boulevard where he made suits for wealthy men. Though you wouldn’t know it was a shop from the outside; like everything else in Clara Vista, it was nondescript in order to keep regular people out – you only knew it existed if you were invited.

When I was younger, everyone knew you didn’t go to Clara Vista unless you absolutely had to. And, if you did, you didn’t carry nothing but your wallet because you would get stopped. Clara Vista people didn’t want us around and didn’t think twice about calling the cops even if you were just minding your business.

Vera wasn’t the first rich girl I’ve dated. Those girls I knew I couldn’t really expect much from – they’d meet you down in the safe areas off Spice but would never show their faces with you out here. Truthfully, I had expected it from her, too. When she didn’t so much as flinch when I suggested we grab dinner at Le Lis, I tried to reason that maybe it was because she wasn’t from Myshuno.

But The Met Gala? Even I knew it. My sisters would watch the holovids, fascinated with the clothes and the celebrities that attended. Everyone would see me with her. She wasn’t trying to hide me at all. The feeling had me catching myself looking at jewelry shop windows a little too hard...

[streetlites]

“Stick a couple of bills here,” I hear Amber’s voice through the din of the dressing room.

“What are you guys doing?”  Sherry asks from somewhere behind me.

“Stormy said people are more likely to tip you if they see that you’ve already got some green on you,” Savannah answers, stuffing a couple of twenty bills in Amber’s top, pulling it down to reveal the pasties Amber’s glued on.

“Stormy’s full of shit,” I chime in. Stormy was a psychology undergrad and often believed she could use her classes to hustle a few extra dollars out of our guests.

“Well, it can’t hurt to try. Some asshole totaled my car and my insurance is only giving me a grand for it. Tell me what kind of car I can buy with that? Fucking HOA bitch breathing down my neck saying that it’s against the rules to have Suber driving through the gates.” Savannah says, pulling her own top down.

“What you should do is talk to Chianti when she comes in tonight,” Luxe answers, swiping her lips with bright red lipstick. “She’ll give you E for free if you take it in front of her.”

“Why would she do that?” Sherry asks.

“Because you’ll want to talk to the guys and let them touch you when you’re rolling. They end up staying longer and drinking more which means more tips for her.”

“And Mike is okay with it?” Savannah asks, doubtful.

“He must be, because she’s been doing it for months. Trust me, you’ll come out with a lot of money.” Luxe says, adjusting what appears to be a diamond choker around her neck. I watch as it catches the light in the dressing room, glittering. It doesn’t look fake.

I’m not the only one who notices; Sherry is also watching the other woman through her mirror. “You’re looking more dolled up that usual – What's the occasion?” She leans forward, smiling conspiratorially.

“An ex of mine is supposed to come in today and I want to remind him of what he’s been missing.” Luxe turns and makes sure that her skirt is short enough to show her thong underneath.

“Oh? You’re not holding off for you-know-who?”

I frown, “you-know-who" was clearly Bobbie Dominguez. The guy was a frequent visitor and had a running fling with several of the girls in the club, myself included. Not that any of us cared, he spent a lot of money on us and was very generous with gifts but he didn’t want you to see anyone else.  We’d had a fight last night because he had moaned Luxe’s name while in the private room with me – he had sent me a pair of red-bottoms I’d been eyeing as an apology. So, I’d forgive him, for now.

“Over my ex? Oh, God, no.” Luxe laughs. “My ex makes that guy look broke as fuck. Like, there’s not even a contest between the two.”

“Oh damn, for real?” Amber asks, squeezing in beside Sherry to check her make up. “Does he have a brother?” she jokes.  

“Two of them,” Luxe laughs. “If you want, I'll ask him if he'll bring the one that lives here the next time he comes out.”

There's a knock on the door, “You all decent in there?’ comes Mike’s voice from the other side.

I snort indelicately, we’re all strippers at his club; he sees us naked almost daily and still knocks. “Yes, Mike, we’re all dressed.” I answer.

“Good morning, Mikey,” Amber purrs but the man isn't paying attention. Instead, he's looking around the room and making notes of everyone that came in to pay house fees later.

He flips to the next page on his clipboard and looks to where we've gathered, “Good morning, ladies.” We all murmur our hellos, impatiently waiting to hear if we have any special assignments for the lunch shift. “I've already told the waitresses but, if any of our guests ask, you really love the steak today.”

“Any VIP reservations?” Luxe presses.

“Uh, yeah. One for Vegas. The guy booked three rooms at three hours each.”

My head swam, that was over five thousand dollars after the houses cut! “All for me?”

Mike shrugs his shoulders, “That's what he said.”

I could feel all the eyes in the room on me. “He knows that I don't have to do anything but dance if I don't feel like it, right?”

Mike holds up how hands, “I told him. I even told him that we don't do refunds and he said it was fine. I'll have Bruce outside the door in case he doesn't respect your choice.”

“Thank you,” I tell him, relieved. Bruce was 6’8” and built like a brick wall; men who felt like fighting quickly settled down when he approached. Nine grand was a lot of money to drop and not expect some sort of reward.

“That's it? Nothing for me?” Luxe tries, her pretty face scowling.

“Nope, that was it.” Mike says, adjusting his papers. “Okay, ladies-“

“What's the guy’s name? The one with the reservations?” She asks, her eyes narrowing at me. I narrow my eyes back at her, preparing to square up if need be – that bitch isn't going to come between me and my money!

“Luxe, you know I don't release that kind of information,” Mike sighs and starts for the door.

“Is his last name Volkov?”

Mike stops and turns to face the other woman, “You got a restraining order on the guy?” he asks, concern on his face.

“Can we talk? In private?” she asks and follows him out the door.

“Um, what was that?” Amber asks, hands on her hips. She's been trying to get Mike's attention ever since she's started here.

“Looks like Vegas bagged a rich one. Who is he?” Savannah asks, excitedly.

“I have no idea,” I shrug, “and I don't care either, but if that bitch thinks she's going to step in and take those reservations from me, I'll drag her ass out into the parking lot and make her eat the curb.”  

“I bet it's her ex,” Sherry cackles. “She was just saying how rich he was.”

“Oh shit,” Amber joins in laughing. “You really don’t know him?”

“I really don’t.” There are so many people in and out of the club – it’s possible I have met him but the name ‘Volkov’ didn’t ring any bells. Whatever was going on between him and Luxe would have to wait until after his appointment.

“Uh, Vegas?” Mike’s voice comes in and the other woman struts by, a triumphant look on her face. “Change of plans, I’m taking you off of the VIP rooms.”

“The fuck you will!” I roar, slamming a fist down on the vanity table, makeup clattering to the floor. The room is silent. I whirl around, knocking my chair over and grab the other woman by her hair, yanking down as hard as I could. Luxe stumbles backwards but catches herself and turns to face me. I let go of her hair and slap her, the noise of the contact is lost in the gasps throughout the room.

“LADIES!” Mike yells.

“Did you think I was going to let you come in and just take my money? Huh?! Think I was just going to sit back and do nothing?!”

“You don’t know anything about who you’re dealing with,” Luxe says, almost threateningly.

“Who? You? Please! What I do know is your little boyfriend doesn’t want you. He wants me. And, because you’re such a little bitch, Imma fuck him in the room – you can watch in the back. He’ll ask for me every single time.” This earns me the rise I want out of her. She reaches back to strike me but she’s slow and telegraphs her moves. I dodge back and spit in her face, making the other woman recoil and snarl in anger.

We grab each other’s hair and grapple, both of us trying our best to topple the other over. The room erupts in a chorus of laughter and squeals. “VEGAS! Please, this is for your own safety!” Mike tries again to stop our fight through words alone, but I’m not going to stop until the other woman is on the ground, motionless.

“She’s not doing it for me, dumbass! You think she’d really stick her neck out if he was dangerous?” I go to grab for her neck and she knocks my hand away – to her big earrings. I take the gold hoop into my fist and pull, the other woman screaming and being led forward to save herself from having it pulled through her lobe. “I’ll show you who you should be scared of!”

“Goddammit!” Mike swears and pushes between the two of us, using his body to break up the fight. “Stop! She says the guy’s heavy in the Russian Mob. I could only find articles from 50 years back, but it’s the same last name.”

“So?! Who you think he’s going to be mad at when she comes in instead of me? Think he’s going to pay the $9000 for the rooms? This bitch is trying to take money from both of us because she’s upset her boy don’t want to spend it on her.” I point at the other woman who doesn’t meet my eyes, rubbing on a rapidly bruising cheek.

Mike looks away, thinking it over. I use his distraction to kick at Luxe, knocking her to the floor. “Aw, hell – Vegas!” He wraps his arms around me, pinning mine to my sides so I can’t take a swing. I try to kick at the woman to get one last shot as he drags me away. “This is why I was going to give it to her, I can’t trust you not to start shit.”

“I’ll definitely start shit if you give it to her. Give it back to me, I’ll be sweet as sugar.”

[streetlites]

I knew I was in trouble the first time I touched you. You gave the smallest gasp, a slight, sharp intake of breath and I couldn’t get the thought out of my mind of how much louder it could have been, how sweeter, the rest of the night. I wasn’t going to invite myself in - I never did because I held onto a hope that you could resist enough for the both of us. Instead, you crooked your finger and I followed like a dog, tail wagging.

I knew it was getting serious when you showed up at my new apartment, bottle of vodka in hand. I asked if you did a job without me and you shook your head and told me it was a housewarming gift. We christened every room that weekend and I barely spent time in it afterward; instead, I found myself in your bed almost every night. 

“You fucking idiot!” Celia had yelled. “I told you to keep your hands off! Do you think her mother will think twice about removing your dumb ass?! Think!” And then my phone chimed with a notification that I’d received a photo from you. Naked in bed, you told me to come home. So I did, warnings forgotten. 

I knew what the expected result for the Marin job was. I really did. And I knew that I shouldn’t go to you afterward, I intended to break things off but I saw you, excited to see me, upset that I didn’t take you with me to my execution and I couldn’t. Instead, I promised you everything.