As if knowing I’m feeling like shit, Nikolai calls. His name and number pop up on my dash and whatever fucking music was playing is replaced by a ringtone. I push the button to answer as the streetlight turns green.
“Nikolai,” I keep my answer short, and my voice even. He’s the underboss, and in a way the one person who saved me. I hardly talk to him or to the boss, Vlad. But every year he reaches out, without fail. He’s the only one who knows how much it affected me.
“I’m sorry, Zane; I forgot.” His voice is etched with sincerity, and I believe him. “I went to the club expecting to find you there, but they said you just left.”
I trust him alone out of all the Koranavs. He never shows emotion. Never. It’s something that makes you appear weak in this line of business. Even Vlad’s anger and hot temper make him look like a loose cannon in my eyes. But on this date every year, Nikolai always opens up to me. He's done this ever since it all happened.
“No need to apologize. I’m doing alright.” As I say the words, the pain comes down harder on me. I twist my hands on the leather again and glance out the window as I come to another stop. I just wanna get home now.
“I’d believe you if you went home with some pussy, but they said you didn’t.” He says it with a touch of humor in his voice and it gets a short, rough laugh from me. I run my hand through my hair and stare at the stoplight.
I remember the feel of Maddy’s ass in my hands, and my dick starts to harden. Yeah, I’ll be fucking fine. As long as I can work and fuck, I’m fan-fucking-tastic. I try to forget Maddy and her soft curves. Fuck. I close my eyes, willing my dick to not get hard for a woman I can’t fucking have. I haven’t jerked off in years, not when I can get laid whenever I want. I’m sure as shit not doing that tonight.
“Promise you, it’s all good,” I tell him.
“If you say so.” From his tone I can tell he doesn’t believe me. I don’t blame him. Anyone who was forced to kill his father would be fucked up. Even if his father was an abusive fuck like my old man.
It happened years ago, but fuck me, I can’t let it go.
I was only ten or so when I started stepping in front of my mom to take the hits. I couldn’t stand the way he hurt her. I tried to protect her. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought she loved me.
I woke up one morning to him screaming about how “the bitch left.” The beatings only got worse after that. Because of course to my father, I was the reason she left. It’s hard to imagine it wasn't true. Why else did she leave me with him?
My old man was more than just an abusive drunk though. He was a degenerate gambler, and got into some serious debt with the mob.
Nikolai, Vlad and two soldiers who are probably long dead came for him when I was fourteen. They found him beating the shit out of me, but I was fighting back. I didn’t have much weight to me since I’d barely hit puberty, but it didn’t stop me from fighting back.
The mob doesn’t like witnesses though, even if they are just kids.
Nikolai spoke up for me. Said he’d teach me. Vlad put a gun in my hand and gave me a choice. Kill my father and join them, or die with him.
It might sound like an easy choice, but it was harder to pull that trigger than I thought it would be. So many nights had passed where I wanted him dead. I swore one day I’d kill him for what he did to my Ma, and what he did daily to me. But when it came time, I almost chose to die with him.
He stared up at me and instead of telling me to do it to save my life, he called me every name in the book and spit on me. Maybe he did it to make it easier for me. But maybe he really did fucking hate me.
I think you always love your parents somewhere deep down inside. Even if they don’t love you back. Even if they don't deserve it.
If it wasn’t for Nikolai, I never would’ve survived.
“Yeah, I’m alright. Just wanna crash tonight,” I tell him. “I’ve got an appointment tomorrow I wanna get up earlier for.” That’s true in a way.
“Good to hear. It’s always nice to get lost in your work.” I can see him nodding the way he does. I grew up with Nikolai as my only father figure despite the fact he’s not even a decade older than me. It wasn’t optimal, but at least I had someone.
It sure is fucking nice to get lost in work. He taught me that. I’m not gonna lie, I was a fucking punk kid growing up. I graffitied everything I could. Got in trouble a few times for it. The first time I went to jail wasn’t for fighting, it was for tagging an abandoned building.
Nikolai was pissed. He said the mob doesn’t need delinquents, and getting in trouble for dumb shit puts a target on my back. So he got me a job at a tattoo parlor. They smuggled drugs out the back of it. I didn’t care though. I just wanted to get my art out there. And Nikolai said it’d be good for me. He told me not to fuck up, and to take it seriously.
I got a reputation pretty fast—a damn good one, and the family hooked me up with my own shop. I was eighteen with my own business, and had clients who fucking loved me. The only condition the mob gave me was that they would handle the books, and they were free to use the back for whatever they needed. I signed that day without thinking much on it.
A few weeks in, Garret and Vlad came into my shop and told me they needed me to cover up a tattoo on a body. I wanted to say no, but I knew better. She was a young girl, maybe my own age, and a member of an MC gang. Garret tossed her on my table and said the tattoo that could identify her needed to be covered. Her body was covered with bruises of varying colors, making me wonder how long they’d tortured her. But what was worse was that she was still bleeding. They’d used a knife on her and mutilated her.
I almost threw up looking at the poor girl. Vlad said they’d “had a little too much fun with her.” I kept my composure and quickly added a layer of art to the dead girl’s tattoo, but I knew then what kind of sick fucks they were, and that I didn’t want anything to do with them. But it was too late. I didn’t have a choice. The memory sends a wave of sickness through me. I thought then that I’d have to get used to that shit, but it’s only happened the one time. Thank fuck. Other than that day, they stay out of my business, and I stay out of theirs.
I hate being under the mob’s thumb.
I can’t deny that they could have killed me. Nikolai saved my life, and gave me something to be proud of. And I do love my shop and my work.
I wish it was just mine. After all, people come to me for a reason. They want a Zane original. My art on their bodies.
Maddy comes to mind as I think about how I’d love to put my art on her. I start thinking about what I’d go with, but then I push that thought away. It’s pointless to think about.
I pull up to my condo, coming to terms with the fact that I’ll probably never see her again. To my left I see a car I don't recognize at the neighbor’s place. I’m always aware of that shit. Just in case. You can never be too laidback when you’re involved with the mob.
I guess they finally got the place rented out.
It’s a cute little car. I’d bet good money a woman drives it. I check out the tags as I lock up my Audi. The locks slam down, and a small beep rings through the night.
Georgia.
Whoever they are, they’re a long way from home.