23. INTERLUDE

The Rolex on Josef Volkov’s wrist reads 4:22 when his son finally comes through the door of his office, reeking of cigar smoke and wearing that stupid hipster suit Josef hates so much. With him comes the heavy bass thump of house music and the heady smell of people packed too close together.

“Yo, Pops,” Arkady slurs. “What’s up? Mookie at the door said you wanted to see me.”

Josef looks out through the window at the dance floor below as hundreds of after-hours partiers gyrate and stomp to the driving beat and the strobe lights. Each one of them is paying ten dollars for each watered-down drink, all for the privilege of not having to go home.

They disgust him.

“You just got here, then?” Josef asks evenly, pouring a shot from a bottle of Green Mark vodka.

Arkady’s cheeks redden. “Uh, yeah,” he says. “I mean, a little while ago.”

Josef hands his son the shot glass. “How long ago?”

“An hour, I guess,” Arkady says, knocking back the vodka. “Maybe two, I don’t know.”

Josef nods. “An hour or two, maybe. You don’t know.”

“What’s the big deal? I’m here now. What do you want?”

His hand snakes out and plucks the shot glass from his son’s hand before pitching it across the room, where it shatters against the concrete wall.

“I want your full attention, you smug little shit!” Josef bellows. “Do I have it?”

Arkady throws up his hands in a defensive gesture. “All right, all right!” he pleads. “Jesus, what’s the big fucking deal?”

Josef paces the room, trying to keep his anger in check. He reminds himself that anger is bad for business. Then he remembers who taught him that, and it makes him even more furious.

“A little bird told me you went to Nick Chernenko’s home the other day,” he says, doing his best to keep his voice even.

Arkady’s gaze drops to the floor as his cheeks turn an even darker shade of red.

“Look,” he says. “I didn’t know it was his place. And I didn’t know he was a friend of yours. I was – just looking for someone.”

“Someone? You mean that blonde with the tweaker parents? The one I told you to leave alone? That someone?”

His son says nothing.

“I told you to stay away from any direct contact with that side of the business,” says Josef. “If someone owes us money, there are people in place to collect it. Not you.”

“I know, but – ”

“But she’s a cute little piece of ass,” Josef sneers. “You wanted to get another little prize for your harem. And you thought I wouldn’t notice. Does that sum it up?”

Arkady stands there, silently fidgeting. Josef sighs and places a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“I get it,” he says. “Women can lead you to do stupid things. And if that’s all it was, I wouldn’t be so upset.”

“So what’s the big deal, then?”

“The big deal is that you went to Nick Chernenko’s house. You disrespected him.”

“I told you, I didn’t know who he was! And how the fuck was I supposed to know he’s your friend?”

Josef shakes his head. “You couldn’t have known,” he says. “You were just a boy the last time you saw him, and I’m sure he’s changed since then.”

“Exactly.”

His father’s hand snakes out so quickly that Arkady, in his drunken state, doesn’t have a hope of seeing it. The blow strikes his temple, driving him backwards and off balance, so that he lands on his knees on the carpet.

“So that justifies threatening him?” Josef asks, rubbing the ridge of his hand. “Because you didn’t know him, you thought you could just intimidate him, is that it?”

Arkady’s red eyes are round as saucers as he processes what just happened. For the first time in his life, his father actually laid hands on him.

“I’m sorry!” he whines. “I didn’t know he was your friend – ”

“He’s not my friend!” Josef snaps.

“Then why – ”

Josef grabs his son by the collar and yanks him to his feet, shaking him like a dog would with a a piece of rope. Then he puts his lips to Arkady’s ear.

“Forget Nick Chernenko exists,” he hisses. “Don’t go near him, don’t talk about him, don’t even think about him. Is that clear?”

Arkady nods, blinking stupidly.

Josef loosens his grip, leaving his son’s shirt crumpled at the collar.

“Have Mookie take you home and get some sleep,” he says with undisguised contempt. “Your mother is expecting you for dinner at five. And for God’s sake, wash that cigar stink out of your beard before you come over.”

As Arkady stumbles out the door, Josef closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Crisis averted, he tells himself, his heart pounding as if he’s narrowly missed being run over by a freight train.