Russian Red

Chapter Two

My driver put the car in park but I was already halfway out the door. Grumbling to myself, I slammed the door and shoved my hands in my pockets looking for my cigarettes. Just as I was about to pull out the box, I saw Grandpa walking out on the second-floor balcony. He held a large cigar in his hand and his other clapped onto the shoulder of Yakov.

Yakov was his right-hand man; the one who he runs all his decisions by and the only person's opinion he cares about. Other than my own of course. Nikolai and Yakov have been working together since my grandfather inherited the empire from his father, Dimitriy Plisetsky. He was only twenty-five at the time; only three years older than me. His father had been killed on a sloppy delivery job that Dimitriy had been overseeing. He suspected his runners had been stealing small amounts money that they were supposed to be giving to clients, which turned out to be true. When the client checked the briefcase and saw that some money was missing, bullets went flying. Before Dimitriy could escape, a stray bullet struck his lung. Ever since then my grandfather has been in charge.

My grandfather had married a year before and had had a beautiful baby girl, my mother. His wife died in childbirth and he has never remarried. The empire is only passed between men so he hoped my mother would have a son for her first. In the meantime, he had met Yakov through mutual friends and decided to ask him to work by his side. I'm sure the hefty paycheck Nikolai offered persuaded him more than anything else.

I could hear my grandfather's booming laughter from here. I met eyes with Yakov who then nodded in greeting. Grandpa took a draw from his cigar and let out of cloud of thick smoke, turning towards me. With his free hand, he waved.

"Ah, Yurochka! How nice of you to join us! Come in and eat son, you look hungry," he called.

I smiled, "I'm coming Grandpa. I'm always hungry for pirozhki, of course."

"Good! A fresh batch, just for you. In the kitchen," he took another hit from his cigar. 

I started up the grandoise marble stairs to our front door which was also absurdly sized. Looking at the house as a whole, you would think giants lived inside. I shoved the left door open and ambled inside.

To a newcomer, the house can be overwhelming but, to me, it was home. Immediatley inside there were four large, white marble pillars supporting the second floor landing overhead. The ceiling was high with a circular skylight that was patterened to throw rainbows around the room when the sun was overhead. Hanging from the center was a large, crystal chandelier. Further in, there were two large staircases, also white marble, on the left and right of the foyer with black iron banisters. Between the two was a small hallway with a door on each side: one for the kitchen and the other for the garage. At the back of the hallway was a glass door leading to the backyard.

Grandpa was coming down the right staircase as I walked further inside. I waited so he could greet me properly at the door. Yakov stayed at the top of the staircase, eyeing me carefully. He played his part well; he looked mean and scary for sure.

Yakov has never been my biggest fan. He has always thought I was bratty and treated me like a young child rather than respecting me as an equal. He knows that my grandfather trusts me more and it eats away at him. From all these years of jelousy im suprised his leathery looking skin hasn't turned green. However, he has lost all of the hair from the top of his head. He says it's genetic but I think its karma. He grows the rest of his hair out longer than usual for an older man; maybe one day he's hoping it will all move back up.

I smirked at him and turned my attention back to my grandfather.

"Yuri, my boy, I went to your room this morning to send you off but you were already gone," concern washed  across his face. He leaned in to give me a small hug and kiss my cheeks. I could feel his scruffy salt and pepper beard scrape my cheeks as mimicked him.