The Carmichael Sunshine

Chapter 5

Pavel was oddly funny in ways. The weekend after I agreed to work with him, we met for dinner. He took me to a nice restaurant and treated me to a big meal. We talked about our families. It was surprisingly nice.

He told me about his parents, his brother, our grandparents.

"dedushka was always a terror," Pavel laughed over a glass of red wine, "he spoke not a lick of English. Always cussing us out in Russian."

Pavel had brought a small album of old photos. It was incredible. It was also so nice to see my mom as a young girl. She was blonde haired, blue eyed, and so pretty, even then.

"I wonder where I got my red hair," I thought out loud.

"Beats me, perhaps your father's side," Pavel mused.

"Did our grandparents not approve of my father?" I asked curiously.

Pavel shrugged, "I really do not know. I think your mother left New York before they even knew of your father."

"They weren't at their wedding," I said sadly. All the photos from my parents wedding day had my father's family, but not my mom's.

Pavel scratched his chin, "The Orlovs can be rather closed-minded...traditional."

I nodded in understanding. They probably didn't like my mom running off, running away from them, falling in love with a Hispanic guy.

"How long...have they been involved in..." I leaned forward, "You know...crime?"

Pavel chuckled. "Bratva is all I've ever known."

"Fascinating," I sipped my drink.

"Is it?" he asked curiously.

I shrugged, "I don't judge."

It was true. The world was corrupt. Eat or be eaten, I suppose. It wasn't my place. I did live by a moral code though. I wanted to save people, not kill them. Hence why this decision was so fucking difficult. But I'd had more fun tonight with my cousin than I'd had in a long, long time.

Pavel was born in Moscow. My grandparents moved to New York first, joining their extended family business. Pavel and his parents, along with my mom remained in Moscow for years before following the grandparents over. Pavel conducted business between here and there for many years. What brought him to Boston was personal. The Carmichaels – or at least Connor's father – had been 'infringing' on the Russian's New York territory for several years. There was a lot of bad blood there. A lot of death.

Pavel and his brother, Stepan, had wanted to end it. They wanted to take the Carmichaels down for good. That's when Connor killed Stepan. I didn't know the details. I didn't want to.

I wanted tonight to be a happy memory.

Pavel told me everything he could about my mom. He told stories about her and my uncles, what they got up to when they were little. Pavel was several years older than me and told me stories of his memories of our parents. Memories I'd never heard from my mom.

He asked about my life, my friends, my schooling, my dad.

It was nice.

When the night was done, I found myself not wanting to go home.

Pavel drove me back to the house. "This is it?" he asked curiously.

I nodded. "Mila Orlov living in a cottage," he smirked, "I never thought it."