by Sara Hubbard
I look for jobs the old-fashioned way: door to door. Main Street is fairly vacant on a Tuesday morning, so I pull up alongside a meter and drop in a few coins. I get prime real estate, right outside of Murphy's Gas Station and Garage. There are lots of other chain ones around here, but I always liked Murph and I think he might be someone I can work for. His son and I went to high school together. I don’t have formal mechanical education, but I’m self-taught and if he asks me about my experience I can always show him the car I built.
I slam the car door shut and stare up at the sign; some of the painted letters are faded and barely readable. The place is smaller than I remember, just a small business with a wide front window and two garages. Both of them are open. A man with a wrench glances at me and then looks away, bending over to examine the engine of a sport scar.
My hands are sweating. Nerves. Not something I'm used to. I was always a confident guy, sometimes too confident. Ivy used to tell me I bordered on cocky. Prison sure cured me of that—at least in the real world. In prison, I didn't give a fuck so it was easy to behave the same. Out here? I’m a con trying to fit into a world that doesn’t want me.
The bell above the door jingles like a Christmas bell when I open it. A guy at the counter pushes up his ball cap to meet my eyes. He squints at me before opening a drawer and fishing out some glasses. After putting them on, he takes a better look. And from his sigh, I know this isn't going to go well.
I crack my neck, take a breath. “I’m looking for Murphy.”
“I’m him.”
Maybe I need glasses. The guy doesn’t look nothing like what I remember. I mean, there are some similarities, but that’s it. Same dark eyes, so dark they're almost black. Same thick, short build. But I remember Murphy being much younger, maybe fifteen years younger. Now he's full of gray and his beard is solid white.
I switch my resume into my left hand and reach out with my right. He doesn't take it at first. This town ain't big, but it's small enough that the people in it don't like outsiders, which means he doesn't remember me at all. Not sure if that's good or bad.
I drop my hand and force a smile. “Nikolai Kosh,” I say.
“Is that so?” he props his hands on his hips. “I told the last guy who came here, I don't know nothing about nothing.”
“Excuse me?”
He tips his head to the left. “You’re not here because of…”
I shake my head and hold out my resume. “I’m looking for a job.”
He laughs out loud, bends at the waist and slaps his knee. “Well, if that don't beat all.”
I fail to see the humor. In fact, this guy laughing at me is making my blood pressure rise. He must see it because he stops and clears his throat. “Oh, you're serious.”
I stand a little straighter and roll my shoulders. “As a heart attack.”
“Well, now…I can't say I have anything available. This is just a family-run place.”
“I see. I'd take anything, even minimum wage to start. I'm good with my hands. Been tinkering with cars since I could walk. Bikes too. And I pick up things real easy.”
He leans back to half sit on the stool behind him. “I couldn't give you a job even if I wanted to, son, if I'm being honest.”
“Since you're being honest, care to tell me why?”
He runs his hand downs the sides of his beard. “People aren't too comfortable around ex-cons. Business is slow as it is and if word gets ’round you’re here…they’ll go elsewhere. News in this town travels like wildfire.”
He doesn’t have to tell me.
I try not to be angry when he gives it to me straight. I knew it'd be hard for me to get a job with a record. But I want to believe he is wrong, that he has issues with my family and maybe not necessarily with me. So all afternoon I walk Main Street, going door to door to ask if anyone is hiring, until an even dozen employers say no, all of them smiling when they tell me, politely, ‘No, thank you.’
As I walk back to my car, loosening my tie and cursing under my breath, I know my efforts are wasted and it pisses me off. No one is willing to give me a chance. This fucking town and the people in it. What did I do that was so wrong? Who wouldn't have done what I did? I doubt few could have walked away from the fucking dick that tortured and ultimately killed my sister. Fuck it. I’ll just have to find something nearby, where people won’t recognize me.
I’ll save that for another day, though. Right now, I need a drink.
In Farnham Cross, there are only three places you can drink during the day without people staring at you and passing judgment. I go to the one I used to go to in high school. Tall and lanky with a scowl I never could control, no one dared challenge my underage self when I ordered beer there. And I’m sure being a Kosh helped, too.
Diamond Sal’s is a block from my car. When I enter the place, it smells like regret. There are only a half-dozen bodies here, all of them focused on their drink. But it's a small town, so of course they give me a cursory glance when I stand on the floor mat just inside the door. The bartender leans over the bar, resting on his elbows as I approach.
“What'll it be?”
“Whatever's on tap.” A beer. I’m salivating just thinking about it. The moonshine in jail tasted like industrial cleaners. Since I've been home, I haven’t had a single drink. Now I'm staring down a bar, I realize how much I missed it.
The bartender slides over a coaster on the dark stained wood and then sets down an amber-colored beer, the foam reaching the tip of the glass. One long draw and I decide I might be here all day. Cold and dry. I let out a quiet moan and close my eyes a moment.
“I know, right?”
I shrug as I open my eyes. “Do you?”
“You’re a Kosh. Nikolai right?”
I don't confirm or deny. I’m not here to make friends.
“I heard they'd let you out.”
I chuckle but not with humor. I can only imagine what he’ll say next.
“Beer’s on the house,” he says, surprising me. “Between you and me…what that guy did to Claire…that asshole got what he deserved.”
I nod, but don’t utter a thank-you, even though I want to. After today, it’s nice to know there are some people in this town who don’t think I’m in the same category as my dad or my uncle. I don’t like hearing her name, but in this instance, it’s okay. Don’t mean the sound of her name hitting my ears doesn’t hurt, though. I’m not sure that ache will ever resolve itself.
Football is on the big screen above the bar. I watch most of a game, enjoying my beer, enjoying the silence and the quiet hum of music in the background that is like a distant hum to my ears.
It’s almost six o’clock in the afternoon when I try and pay my tab. I’m not drunk. I only ended up having three beers over the course of three hours. Although I feel a little warm, I know I’m okay to drive. I just need to walk a little maybe. Maybe put something in my stomach. It’s a nice day. The warm sun shines down on my face and the cool wind blows at my hair. I spy a hot dog stand across the road and jog over after letting a car pass. The smell of the warm meat and the chili has me salivating. I buy two and I’m about to bite into the first when my brother rolls up beside me. The passenger side window of his old truck lowers as he pulls to a stop.
“Hey asshole, where’s mine?” he says, grinning.
I grab my nuts and say, “Right here,” before laughing.
I bite into a dog and let out a quiet groan as I close my eyes. Another bite and it’s gone and I’m working on the second. This one I covered in chili, the spicy kind. The guy at the stand said few people would touch it because it burns a hole through your stomach. Music to my ears. I’ll chance the gut rot just for the flavor. It’s funny how something so simple as eating a hot dog while walking down the street can satisfy me so much. I took this shit for granted as a kid, but I won’t make that mistake any more.
“Get in,” Vik says.
“I think I’ll walk.”
His face drops and he clea
rs his throat. “Sure? Because I got some news you might be interested in.”
“If it has anything to do with Yuri, I’m not interested.”
“Well, that might be true, but you might change your mind when you hear what I have to say.”
I shake my head, annoyed because I have a feeling I’m not going to like this. And I was having a perfectly peaceful day so far—minus the constant rejections. One last bit of my dog and I crumple up the foil wrapper, tossing it in the trashcan by the street pole. When I climb inside, Vik pulls away and heads South on Main Street.
“What’s with the tie?” he laughs.
“What do you think? I’m trying to get a job.” I pull the knot free and let the tie hang loose around my neck.
“I was hoping you were joking.”
“’Fraid not, brother,” I say.
“How’s that working out?”
“Awesome.” I force a grin.
“I’ll bet.”
“Fucking people in this town. They think I'm bad for business.”
Vik taps his fingers on the wheel. “Maybe you are. Maybe you should stick with what you know.”
I try to control my frustration but he's getting my back up. “Just tell me what’s on your mind, Vik.”
I can only imagine what Yuri’s cooked up to pull me back in. When I asked for his permission to go straight, we sat in his backyard, on lawn furniture on the tiled area adjacent to his back deck. The barbecue sizzled with steak and foil-covered potatoes. Vik sat quietly, enjoying a beer. Yuri simply nodded, at first, giving in without much of a fight. It shocked me, but I knew we weren’t done with the conversation. And, as if he had to show me the size of his nuts, he growled at a crow crying in a nearby tree. He whipped out his handgun from the holster under his arm. Then he shot the crow. It fell to the grass, dead. One shot. ‘Fucking crows. They do nothing but complain.’ He leaned over to me and his voice was quiet and calm but also menacing. ‘I gave your brother the same chance once.’ He held up his gun to punctuate the once. Like it was a finger flashing me a single digit. ‘Like I expected, he came back to me. I don’t expect any different from you. Two weeks. Maybe three. Family has to stick together.’
Vik nudges me to get my attention. “You fucking listening or what?”
“Yes, just tell me already.”
“Early this morning a couple of punks broke into Yuri’s construction site in Brightmore.”
“So?” I stretch my arm out over the back of the seat and pound on my chest from the indigestion. Never should have put hot sauce on that dog.
He glances at me and then back at the road. “One of them is Jack Parker. Ivy’s kid brother.”
I sit up a little straighter and roll down my window. The wind in my face calms me only slightly. Ivy’s brother stole from Yuri? No one steals from Yuri. The kid must be missing a few brain cells. Ivy said he was a handful, but I thought she meant he was moody or something. Hearing her brother has morphed into a thief is a little difficult to swallow.
“You’re sure it was Jack?”
I want to say he deserves what he gets—which in this case would end up being a bullet to the skull—but his death would shatter Ivy. Still, helping the kid means going to Yuri and asking for him to spare Jack. That one favor would pull me back into Yuri’s world. I’m not sure I’m ready to get back into the business for a punk kid. Or see the smug face on my uncle when I ask for his help. The stakes are too high for me to get involved. If it was Ivy, I wouldn’t think twice, but Jack?
“You don’t give a shit, that’s fine. I get it. But I thought you might want to know,” Vik says to goad me.
“I suppose Yuri wants blood?”
“Of course he does.”
I sigh and slowly curl my hands into fists. A couple days of calm, of being a normal guy looking for a normal job. I sleep at night like a baby. Ivy always said this could be me. I never believed her, but lately I was starting to. Thought maybe I could one day be free of all this and maybe deserve the girl I love. I should stick with my plan, but the longer I sit here, the more guilt needles at me. Ivy’s sweet face enters my mind. Her eyes full of tears. She’s already lost her mother. What will she do if she loses Jack? She’ll fall apart…and then she’ll leave. That’s what ultimately tips the scales for me. I’m not ready for her to disappear from my life forever and I don’t want her to hurt anymore. If I can spare her any more pain, then I have to do something. I owe her that much.
“Turn around,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.
“What?”
“Take me to Yuri.” Louder.
Vic slows down and waits for a car to pass before he pulls a U-turn. “You sure about this? I only told you because I knew you’d be upset if I didn’t.”
I prop my elbow on the window of the car door and exhale forcefully. It’s all I can do not to scream right now. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t want this.”
He taps his hand on the steering wheel and curses. “Of course I want you back. I don’t trust anyone like I trust you. But…I don’t know. I wanted you to come back because you wanted to, not because of Ivy. You don’t even fucking know her anymore.”
“And yet you told me this, knowing what I’d do?”
“I’m sorry, man.”
“Are you?” I ask. My head turns to watch him, but he won’t look me in the eyes.
“Yeah, actually I am.” Vik runs a hand through his hair and rifles through the random stuff littered on the dash. When he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, he leans over and presses the button on the glove compartment, almost hitting my knees. I lean them away while he reaches in and pulls out a pack of smokes.
He lights one up and hands it to me. I figure we’ll share but then he lights another, sighing with pleasure as he slowly blows smoke out through his lips. “You talked to her since the other day?”
“No,” I say, my voice a little curt. I take my own drag now, feel the nicotine snake down my throat and work its way through my lungs. Like a pill, it calms me enough to relax my shoulders.
“So why’re we doing this for her?”
“Because she’d do it for me,” I say.
“You sure?”
I glare at him. “Yeah, I’m sure.” That girl would give up a kidney for a stranger. It’s one of the things that drew me to her. There was never a catch with her. She never wanted anything from me but to love her. And she never expected it, she just hoped it would come. I was fucking hopeless against her sweet, soft-spoken charm. Because for all the bad in my life, she was the one good thing I had that wasn’t spoiled or broken. But then I went and broke her too.
Vik turns off the street and passes through the stone markings on either side of a long paved drive. As we pass under a canopy of overhanging trees, I stare straight ahead, resolved about what I have to do and how far I’d go to protect the girl I love.
5
NIKO: Once, when we were out at the cabin site, Dad got a call from Yuri. He told us to stay put and he’d be back. I sneaked into the back of the truck while he took a piss near the hood. He drove out to this old train bridge that hadn’t been in use for maybe twenty-five years. There was a secluded area underneath it with some overgrown weeds, but it was kind of in a valley area, so no one could easily see underneath the bridge.
When Dad got out of the truck, I poked my head up and watched through the cabin back window. He met with Yuri and a close friend of his, along with some cousins. There was another man there I didn’t recognize. His hands were bound and his face was bloodied and beaten. Old blood stained the edges of his ripped shirt. A smell drifted in the wind—pine and wild flowers—but with it came the scent of oil from some half empty cans in the truck bed.
Georgie, one of the cousins, started screaming at the bound guy, slapping him hard across the face when he blubbered out indecipherable words. Then the man started to cry. Yuri smiled and touched the man’s cheek, and then he patted it, almost affectionately. My gut turned and I felt bile crawl up my throa
t. I’d seen my uncle snap once or twice before and I knew the signs. It was coming.
Ricky, another cousin, handed Yuri a crow bar and Yuri backed away from the man. He held it stiff at his side, the end grazing the weeds. Then he cocked his arm, gripped the iron with both his hands, and bashed the man in the head. The man went down, and even from where I crouched, I could hear a sickening crunch. The man lay lifeless and Yuri didn’t stop. Over and over and over, he beat that man. His face was savage, like something out of a graphic novel. I would go as far as to say he looked possessed. When he finally stopped, he smoothed back his hair and spit on the man’s pulverized flesh. Then he handed Ricky back the iron. “Burn him alive,” he said. “Leave no trace.” He heaved a sigh before smiling at my father. “You were quick,” he said.
My father stuttered slightly when he spoke. Nothing fazed my father, but Yuri. If for no other reason at all, I knew I needed to fear Yuri because of this. “I was at the cabin with the boys.”
“Oh, how’s that coming along?” he asked. His voice was even, calm. Ricky handed him a handkerchief and Yuri wiped his hands clean before he wrapped his arm around my dad and walked him back to the truck. I lay back down in the truck bed and covered my mouth so I wouldn’t make a noise. My heart raced in my chest and thrummed in my ears and I worried they could hear it. I’m not sure I started breathing again until Dad pulled away.
Dad beat me that night for sneaking into his truck. We never talked about what I did or didn’t see. He beat Vik, too, for letting me. I always felt bad about that, even though Vik looked me straight in the eyes with his black ones and told me he was due for a beating anyway. This memory makes me look over at my brother gratefully now. Like always, he’s here at my side, making sure I stay safe.
We reach the end of the driveway and stop in front of Yuri’s six-bedroom, five-bathroom home. Vic and I get out and climb the three stairs to the front porch. The yard is immaculate and a gardener takes a break from pruning a rose bush to wave to us. Vik ignores him but I feel rude so I wave back. Vik reaches out and raps on the brass doorknocker. A maid answers. She’s young and pretty with breasts that strain against the neckline of her low cut black uniform.