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“I’m surprised you didn’t get out. Enough determination, and you probably could have.” I watch as she picks up a knife and peels and cuts the potatoes into fries. She’s quick, accurate, and deft with a knife. Just how I like it.
“You’ve had cooking lessons, haven’t you?” I ask curiously. “You cook like a chef has shown you how.”
“No cooking lessons, no.” She smiles. “But thank you for the compliment.”
She turns the stovetop on and puts down a skillet with some oil. She seasons the steaks again and sets them aside. She then puts a pot on the stovetop to heat up.
“How then? How did you learn to cook?” I ask. “Don’t hold out on me now. You look like you know what you’re doing.”
She looks up and leans on the counter. “My father being dismissive of me made me teach myself how to cook.”
“I’m sorry?” I ask. “You cook like a chef because your father won’t pay attention to you?”
“It’s not just about being paid attention,” she says, exasperated. “It’s not paying attention to the business decisions, but I can contribute too. I’ve seen my father make some bad decisions that could have easily been avoided if he had just listened to me.”
“Like what?” I ask.
“What do you mean?” she asks, taking the steaks to the skillet and putting them in. The air fills with the sound of sizzling.
“What decision did he make that you could have advised him on?” I ask. She goes back to chopping the potatoes while the steaks sear closed. She goes back to the stovetop and turns the steak over. “How do you like your steak?”
“Medium,” I say. “Don’t avoid the question.”
“I don’t know. I would have advised against the butchers. They contribute nothing to our family wealth and serve as no front for any business we conduct. They’re too clean. At best, we could treat them as you treat them, like a hobby. There’s no point to it.”
“Unless it is for a power play against the Milov family, after all,” I point out. “That could have influenced his decisions.”
“True, but my father isn’t like that. If he wants to power play, he’ll do it in negotiations, not behind someone’s back. You must understand; I know my father better than you.”
“Do you?” I ask. “Did you know our fathers were friends?”
“What?” She looks at me for a moment. “I didn’t realize…”
“Long story. Tell me, what would you do if I came to you and said that laundromats were no longer good enough to hide money behind? How are we going to move our money?”
“There are so many better ways to do it these days,” she says as she takes the steaks off and lets them rest. She then puts in the first batch of fries, and the oil sizzles as it cooks them.
“I mean, you could do an offshore account and filter it through some shell companies. Make sure everything is done in a country where the American government or the IRS can’t subpoena the records.” She stirs the chips, presumably so they don’t stick together.
“Okay, but how would you get that money back into the country?” I ask.
“Donations through charities. Especially charities that involve foreigners, so it’s harder to trace the money back to us. One that also deals with a lot of cash, like a charity that helps immigrants find work.” She checks the steaks and starts making a honey-based sauce for them. This has me completely enraptured.
“Okay, what about property investment? Buying the butchers could be about the properties they’re tied to?” I tilt my head, thinking I’ve finally got her.
“No, they’re not exactly prime real estate, so it can’t be that. Something isn’t sitting right. You have to trust me on that. I would rather worm my way into owning one of your laundromats or casinos. If I really had an option, I’d do what I said before: concerts and shows. They have high budgets, and money can easily pass through them unnoticed.” She shrugs and pours the sauce over the steaks. “That needs to soak for a bit, and the fries are almost ready. Do you want to pass me two plates?”
I get up and get her the plates, setting them down.
“Why doesn’t your father listen to you?” I ask. “You seem to have strong, solid opinions. I would listen to you if you advised me.”
“I’m the only woman in my family. It means my father and my brothers automatically think that I’m weak. Even my cousins don’t listen to me. If it were up to me, I’d make it clear that if you’re on my payroll, you’d be rewarded well, and if you betray me, they’ll never find your body.”
I smirk. “And who would you use to assist you?”
She points a knife at me. “Why would I need assistance?”
I sit back down and watch as she cooks the last batch of fries.
