K U S T O V (NaNoWriMo 2014)

I

I

            Ivan Kustov had never been a handsome man. Face consistently pulled into a play between a smile and a frown, Ivan had been cursed with both height and a high metabolism. Standing next to any other well into his twenties Slavic man, he simply looked like a child that had grown far too much, which didn’t tend to help him in business deals. He preferred thinly cut off-white three-piece suits, with dark undershirts and no tie. He didn’t like to smile very much, and when he did it only looked forced. Ivan was an interesting man, but he had never been particularly attractive, and perhaps that was the charm in him.

             “Pakhan?” a voice whispered through the door. “May I come in?”

            Carefully moving to rest his crossed legs on the Oakwood desk in front of him, Ivan Kustov only huffed in response before Peyta Brantov, the resident errand boy, burst into his office, face flushed and breathing heavily.

            In furious Russian, Peyta rambled on, trying his best to get as much information out as quickly as possible, “So I was sittin’ at home and there comes this phone call from Dernov about the deal, and he says theys backed out! So I come here and tell you because he said that he’s gonna try to save it but he’s gonna need backup quick!”

            “Alright Peyta, alright, calm down. Now you run back off to Lidin and you tell him I sent you. I want you to tell every Krysha in this building to go and see him, you hear? And you tell Lidin that I want him and three of his boyevik’s to go to 5th and help Dernov,” Ivan ordered, shooing the shestyorka, one of the lowest ranks in the entire bratva, to do his job. Peyta nodded furiously before flying out the door towards the canteen, slamming the door behind him.

            Ivan sighed and ran a hand through his hair before going back to organizing the next day’s deal.

 

Ξ

 

         Natalya hated luncheons.

            She wasn’t sure why the idea of sitting in a large, expensive room, eating escargot, and flaunting tokens of wealth appealed to so many women, but it did. And unfortunately, with the sort of people she kept company with, she attended too many of them.

            “Oh Natalya, your ring is gorgeous! Did Ivan buy it for you?” the girls giggled, expertly covering their mouths and showing off fifteen-karat diamonds in the process. For some reason, whenever her husband was brought up in conversation they seemed to become frivolous idiots.

            She hadn’t even realized she was wearing the ring until it was brought up, and made a point of flexing her fingers out to show it off, “Oh, of course! Our first anniversary was last month.”

            “That’s so sweet!” one of the girls gushed, managing to open her mouth and let food in it fall out in a rather unappealing manner.

            Natalya didn’t think so. Ivan knew she wasn’t a fan of large, gaudy rings, and really preferred smaller, simpler stones, and he had most definitely done it to aggravate her. Continuing to make the infamous “you have to show your wealth, darling” excuse, he kept giving her hideous jewelry, and she had to wear it, if only to inspire jealousy in others. And she hated it.

            What was even worse was these were police wives. What could be more idiotic than going to lunch with the entire police force? Nothing, that’s what. But, once again, Ivan always had to have the last word. “You’ll play them all, agaf’ya.  If you keep them busy and ignorant, we’ll have so much more,” he’d said, all empty promises. Natalya loved Ivan dearly, but he took unnecessary risks and more often than not it was obnoxious. And she couldn’t speak Russian to these women, which was a bore. She would have loved to confuse them, but she had been warned not to let anything of her heritage slip in case it could be traced back to the bratva.