ROMEO - DEATH & MAYHEM a spectreverse short story [book R]

Chapter FIVE

Anatoly (Tolya) Ivanov

...a few days later...

The smell of tobacco and vodka, faint and reminiscent of the great man who once occupied this space still scents the cramped office above the dice house floor where I now sit alone.. Scouring through the pages of casino finance accounts and trying to wrap my aching brain around the figures.. A fuck tonne of counterfeit cash has moved though the business in the last quarter alone, my business, and I can't understand why Stori never told me about the deal with the Triads?

On the one hand I know I shouldn't question the Pakhan or his motives, it isn't my place to second guess the man my father entrusted leadership to when he retired.. But on the other hand, I can't help but itch with irritation at being treated like an outsider to the organisation to which I am a legacy..

Was Stori trying to cut me out and retain control of the profits? Something my father never would have allowed, to be castrated in his own casino..
Or did The Pakhan just want me to keep my nose clean?
Something I'm sure my father would have wanted..

I know Konstantin didn't want this life for me.. He wanted me to make something more of myself.. But destiny has a funny way of kicking a man down to exactly where he belongs.. It had happened to my father before me and now it is my turn to suffer..

I never was the brightest kid, I never was the best at anything really except shit-kicking and getting into fights.. My mother used to say I shouldn't be afraid to let people see my sweet nature, she even called me her 'little sunrise'.. But deep down, I always felt like she was wrong about me, that I wasn't worth all the love she gave me, that she deserved a better son..
I resent myself for all those times she was subjected to the embarrassment of my mistakes, sat in the principal's office, later locked in holding cells and soon after captive behind correctional facility walls..

I've been a fuck up my entire life and now, there is no chance I will ever make my parents proud.. The only thing I can do is sustain the family business and support my sister to have the life she deserves, with me so far away that I couldn't possibly fuck it up for her..

Poor Mishka, I wonder how she is coping..
Maybe I should call her... I doubt she'd even want to hear from me..

Overwhelmed and stricken by grief I pour out another shot of vodka and throw it back in one as I push the books away, too agitated to continue combing through numbers trying to make sense of it all.. The weight of responsibility bears down on my back, crushing what little spirit I have left until apathy consumes me entirely..

I have never felt an agony I didn't enjoy, but this grief is unbearable..

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