The Green Leaf

Part 1

"Al, please, listen. I can expla-'' I say, trying my absolute best to calm the enraged woman down. Unfortunately for me, she decides to cut my try short by throwing a chair at me. Every time I forget how strong she is compared to me, it tends to bite me in the ass. I dodge the chair by an inch.

"EXPLAIN??? YOU FUCKING BETRAYED MY WHOLE FAMILY?? YOU'VE BEEN LYING STRAIGHT TO OUR FACES FOR TWO GODDAMN YEARS, ROME." Alyona yells. Her face is almost bright red and she's breathing heavily. At this point I'm really hoping she doesn't pull out a gun and shoot me. No, she wouldn't do that. No, she definitely would. No, she wouldn't kill me quickly after my disastrous fuck-up. I bet her father wants to have a piece of me too when he gets to know, if he doesn't already. There must be a way out of this.

"Well, uh- I didn't lie... You didn't ask and I didn't tell." I note and slowly start backing off towards the terrace door. Alyona doesn't seem to like what I said nor what I'm trying to do, so she does what I fear the most. She draws her gun and points it at me. Why did I let her carry a gun in the house? I didn't, she walked in with it.

"Oh don't you get smart on me. Not a single step. You won't be getting away with this. Sit." she growls, moving the pistol a little towards the couch. I lift my hands in the air, about to flip my shit. I think my heart is about to explode. I can feel my pulse through my chest and cold sweat dripping down my forehead and back.

"O- okay, let's calm down, no need for that. You wouldn't do that in front of the cats, would you?" I stutter, changing my direction, but not fully. Alyona stares at me like she wants to break my ribs one by one. She knows I'm getting desperate. Fuck it. I take a sprint to the door.

Bang.

...

The last few months had not been too forgiving. Losing a leg wasn't that good for business either. Popping pain killers and ever growing "sampling" of my own merchandise had made me incapable of taking part in important meetings with my customers. It wasn't like I had always been stone-cold sober in those meetings, but in this state it would've been easier to take advantage of me. Why not send a hand, I've been asked. Truth be told, I can't trust my subordinates enough. The demand for such high-end weed like mine was huge among the wealthier folk and I know well that many wanted to take their cut from the sales. Moving to Russia from Romania was absolute bullshit as well.

I sat on my bed, petting a small, yellow munchkin cat. The cat was purring and stretched its back a little under my hand. One of the downsides of sleeping until afternoon was an awful headache. Could've also been the pot and alcohol I heavily used last night. I had no will to check my bathroom, which probably was tattered with something unpleasant. You can never know what a drunken man with everything in his disposal can do in one night. At least I didn't wake up next to a stranger nor smell blood anywhere. Waking up in a competing mafia's cellar wouldn't have been nice either. I took a glance around my bedroom and gave myself a minute to stare at a huge aquarium I had bought myself a few weeks earlier. Watching the fish swim around was weirdly calming. I also liked the colors and glimmering scales.

"About time I got up..." I muttered and stood up. A metallic clank reminded me that I didn't even take off my prosthesis. Before I started to dwell in self pity again I grabbed the cane I hated to use and walked to the bathroom with heavy, dragging steps. Great, I knew how to throw up in the toilet. Taking a shower took off the worst edge of the hangover, but having to touch and look at my leg stump made me want to puke more. I hate family reunions. Something always happens when you put ten to thirty violent and narcissistic bastards in the same house with hard liquor. This time it was my turn to get beat up. No matter how much I tried to avoid my siblings and parents, they found a way to get under my skin. Either mentally or physically. This time it was a bullet to the leg. As if our adolescence wasn't filled to the damn top with unnecessary competition. The only reason I even participate is my sister, who got married off to another narcissistic bastard across the world. At least she's happy with the kid she has.

I dried my hair by ruthlessly rubbing it with a towel, resulting in an Albert Einstein type of hairstyle, just in black. That's what you get by growing your slightly curly hair over your shoulders. After painful brushing and a respectable three seconds of staring at myself in the mirror, I took scissors in my hands and cut a good amount off. It looked awful. Loved it. Didn't love the itch the cut hair strands gave though. Buttercup opened the door with her nose and mewed quietly.

"Like it?" I asked. The cat blinked and sat down.

"I'll take that as a yes."

I managed to put on a clean, white shirt and black trousers and looked like I was on my way to a fancy business meeting. Exactly where I was heading. That day I was to honey up a bigger mafia boss and get into his business. Not a single person in their right mind would do anything as idiotic as I was about to do. Having a decoy boss of my own should've been an excellent cover of my true identity. The Ivanovs had absolutely nothing on me. My mafia wasn't even functioning in Russia - not yet. The plan was to slowly take over the local mafia and replace it with my own without "the big guy" noticing. I was willing to bet that his informants had been sweating to find the smallest dirt on me but found nothing. I was here to grow my amazing weed in the middle of the woods and I wanted to make a hefty amount of money with the locals. Nothing shady in that. Here I was Rome Cartell. Cartell obviously wasn't my actual surname.

"Taking any longer? The car's been waiting for an hour now, Rome." An irritated female voice called behind my bedroom door.

"Sorry, Juno. I'll be right with you."

I said goodbyes to the cat, swallowed a few painkillers and left the bedroom to meet my partner's judging look. I could tell she didn't appreciate my sloppy haircut. Like me, she always wore her best to any occasion. That day she had jewelry around her neck, ears and face. Gold really suited her beautiful, dark brown skin. I think it was her favorite color. Juno's taste was a little too expensive in my opinion, but who was I to judge? Whatever made her happy. A hand laced with rings went through my hair, trying to make it seem less self-cut. Juno frowned and asked:

"If you wanted a haircut so bad, why didn't you let me arrange you one? Now you look like a toddler who got a hold of scissors for the first time without supervision."

"You know I hate hairdressers. And you'd never be happy with the result if I let you do it. I'd end up bald." I muttered and tried to escape her grooming.

"At least now you look like a narc. Idiot. Let me put some concealer under those eyes. Try to look less dead." Juno kept talking the whole way to the car.

"Mhm... Got a lighter? I think I forgot mine upstairs." I mumbled, feeling the increasing need to smoke. My leg was already hurting.

"Of course I do. We can't let all go to shit just because you can't handle withdrawals. I'll give it to you later." She said and sat on the car's back seat. I sat next to her and sighed as a protest. Juno gave me a mean look and groused something in Spanish. I knew that it was going to be a long ride.