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I ascend the stairs and leave the club without a backward glance. I go, getting into my car without a care in the world. I need to unwind. These latest bouts of attacks have got me on edge.
Only one thing will alleviate this. My hobby. The thing I do for fun.
I drive through town until I come across a quiet street of small family-owned businesses. I park my car and get out, walking to the closest one, which is a butchery. I go inside and greet the woman standing behind the counter.
“Hey, Debbie. Hope you’re well?”
“As well as can be Arseny. We just got new stock in the back that needs sorting,” she says as she carefully wraps up the meat she’s working with and puts it in the display fridge.
I take my jacket off, walk around the counter, through the staff-only door, and hang it on the rack near the door. I then take down an apron and put it on. I disinfect my hands at the basin and put a hair net on my hair—house rules.
Roger, the owner, lets me come work here for free whenever I want, provided I follow the rules.
I go to the lockers, take out my butcher knives, and take them to my workstation. I set everything up, then fetch the first pig from the freezer and bring it to my station. Light music plays in the back, and a popular radio station plays classical music. I begin to carve up the different pieces of the pig to seal up and sell.
I complete various cuts, including leg of pork, pork belly, pork trotters, and Kassler steaks. I cut everything, and Debbie comes to fetch it and wrap it up for the display cases.
The butcher is busy enough that I can visit often to cut up various animals. At least I know in the wild, I’d be fine. I know how to skin animals better than any of my brothers. I was the only one interested in it when Uncle Jerzy would take us camping. My brothers like to shoot, but they don’t like getting their hands dirty.
It’s always been me. I’ve always been the enforcer of the family. I thought once, maybe just once, that Luka might become an enforcer, but he’s too soft for the job. He is a killer, no doubt. We have all killed more than one person in our lives. But I’m the clean-up crew. I deliver the messages. I pose the bodies.
“Oh my God. Roger, are you okay?” Debbie says from the front. I hear coughing.
I walk through the staff door and see Roger, bloody and beaten, sitting at one of the tables in the front section.
“Roger,” I say quietly. “Who did this?”
“I didn’t see the people's faces, but there was more than one.” Debbie brings him a cloth to put on his bleeding nose. “They want the butchery. They want me to sell it to them or else. They said I was a dirty bastard for letting a Milov work here.” His eyes meet mine. “I hadn’t told them that. They just knew.”
I wipe my hands on a nearby rag and remove the apron, discarding it on the counter. “What did they say they wanted, exactly?”
“They said they’re going to take over our entire shitty little neighborhood, one at a time, and force the Milovs out of Las Vegas.” Roger checks if his nose is still bleeding. It is.
“Well, now, that isn’t going to happen. I will speak to Kervyn about arranging some protection. There’ll be a fee. I can’t waive that. But you’ll be safer,” I explain.
Roger nods. “It will probably help. But I’ve heard they’ve hit other butchers and some grocery stores. All the small businesses that families run.”
I tense up. “I should go see Kervyn now.” I return to the back, taking my apron off as I walk. I pack up my knives, rip off the hair net to dispose of it, and hang the apron up. I wash my hands, slide back into my suit jacket, and walk out. “You should have that checked out.”
“I will,” Roger wheezes. “Thanks, Arseny.”
I leave the shop, casting a weary eye around in case someone tries to jump me. Most people would think I’m paranoid, but I know how this game works.
I make it to my car in one piece and check the back before I slide in. I start the car and drive back to Afantasy. As I’m walking back in, Penny and Asher are walking out, and they stop me to say hello.
“How are you, Arseny?” Asher asks.
“Fine. Fine,” I say a little impatiently. “Just need to sort some business out.”
Asher motions behind her. “Kervyn is upstairs in his office. Danil’s already left.”
“That’s fine, it’s Kervyn I want. I’ll see you later at Mama’s house.” I walk past them without another word. I’m not the lovey-dovey kind. I mean, I can love. I love my nephews and niece. I love my family. But I’m not going to croon over them like a puppy. I take the stairs two at a time, knock, and walk in. “Kervyn?”
“Did you carve a flower and a skull into the Pacheco cousins before you dropped them in the desert?” my older brother asks, looking at me.
“Yes,” I say calmly. “It was art.”
My brother chuckles deeply. “If that doesn’t send a message, I don’t think anything will. I thought you had gone for the day?”
