by Hamel, B. B.
Maksim was a hard and a shrewd man. He didn’t rise to his position without some brains and some muscle. The only reason they’d taken such a beating lately was due to his moron son getting his ass handed to him by one of my old friends from when I was coming up, back before I left for New York. That little war had fractured something within the Russian organization, and they were losing ground little by little nearly every day.
“I’m happy you came,” my father said. “I know things have always been difficult between us, Maksim.”
“Difficult?” Maksim grunted. “Please, you make life miserable. You come and kill soldiers, you steal shipments. Of course, I do same to you, so things, they are even. But still, we should say what we mean, yes?”
“I agree,” my father said.
“Then let me ask you. Why am I here?” Maksim crossed his arms over his chest and looked from my father over to me then back again.
I raised an eyebrow and waited. My father took a moment to compose himself before folding his hands together on the table and leaning toward Maksim.
“I’ve come to offer you a deal,” my father said.
“You make me deal?” Maksim laughed. “I do not think you make me good deal.”
“Hear me out, Maksim,” my father said. “I know we’ve been at odds for a long time, but believe me. I think I have something that will benefit us both.”
Maksim blew a breath out from his nose and looked at me.
“Does he think that just because I have accent, that I am stupid?” Maksim asked me.
I grinned and shrugged. “Could be,” I said.
My father gave me a sharp look. “I know you’re not dumb, Maksim. Otherwise, I would’ve killed you years ago and taken over your territory.”
“Like you do now?” Maksim asked. “Oh, yes, you pretend like you are not hurting me, but I know you chip away at edges, little bit by little bit.” Maksim made a disgusted face. “And now you call me here, you talk of deal.”
“It’s an alliance,” I said. “A mutually beneficial alliance.”
“You do not do mutually beneficial,” Maksim said. “You do personal beneficial, but not mutual.”
“Maksim, I know you’re hurting,” my father said. “Yes, you’re losing territory, and yes, some of my Capos are taking it from you. But it’s not just me and you know it. Just three days ago, one of your top ranked soldiers left your organization, isn’t that right?”
Maksim scowled. “Did do you know this?”
“Of course I know,” my father said. “It’s my job to know, but beyond that, he made sure the whole city knew about it.”
“Pah,” Maksim said, waving a hand. “He was coward. Not willing to fight.”
“But he’s not alone,” I said. “More of your guys are talking about following. They think you’re weak, Maksim. Think you’re ready to roll over and let the young men take over.”
Maksim narrowed his eyes at me. “Men such as yourself?”
I held my hands out, palms up, and smiled.
“What my son’s trying to say is you need help right now,” my father said. “We can provide you with that help. Stabilize you.”
“Why?” Maksim said slowly. “I see no reason to do such a thing.”
“We need you,” my father said. “With you in the city, all the attention won’t be on my family. We don’t want a street war any more than you do. Maksim, working together makes more sense now than it ever did, and if you can look beyond the past, I think we can see a future where both our families are stronger together.”
Maksim took a deep breath, crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair.
“Fine,” he said. “I’m listening.”
I smiled and stood up as my father launched into an explanation of the plan. It was a long, detailed, and incredibly boring speech about logistics, about selling Maksim drugs at good prices, at helping them set up a distribution network where the money flowed between both families. I walked out of the meeting and felt Maksim’s eyes on me, tracking my movements until I slipped out the doors and into the hallway.
My job was done. My father wanted me in there as a show of solidarity and to convince Maksim to listen. I’d been away from the city long enough that I didn’t have a history of fighting with the Russians here, and so my father thought I might be useful.
So I served my purpose and then I was done.
I walked a few feet away, down the plush red carpet with its alternating geometric and floral designs. I stopped beneath a painting of a boat in a river at night, the water reflecting the white moonlight with little swirls of white paint.
I took out my phone and made a call.
She answered on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Mona,” I said.
“Vince,” she said. “I thought I just got rid of you.”
“Maybe, but I haven’t gotten you off my mind just yet,” I said.
She laughed. “The lines are getting better.”
“Good.” I tilted my head and smiled. I reached out and ran a finger down the painting. I knew it was probably worth millions of dollars, though the painter escaped me at the moment. I touched the canvas, the oil, felt the bumps and long marks where the brush had been pushed, pulled, stamped down.
“What can I do for you?” she asked.
“I’ve been thinking about your little… idea,” I said.
“Really?” Her tone was eager, much too eager.
I smiled and dropped my hand from the painting.
“Really,” I said. “Come meet me at the Art Museum in an hour and we’ll discuss it.”
“Wait,” she said. “But—”
I hung up the phone.
If she wanted this, she’d show up. And if she didn’t, well, I hadn’t been to the museum in years, and I was sure I could get lost and entertain myself for a while.
5
Mona
I ran home from Whole Foods with only half of what I went there to get, jumped into the shower, and just barely managed to make it to the Art Museum an hour after that phone call. I stepped out of the Uber, my heart beating fast, as I looked around for Vince.
And didn’t see him anywhere.
I walked to the right, away from the big, wide staircase, and over toward the Rocky statue. There was a line for pictures and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at the tourists. Philadelphia had to so much to offer, so much rich and important history, and all people wanted to do was come take a picture with stupid Rocky.
It wasn’t even that good of a movie.
Okay, well, the first one was good. But the rest of them were stupid.
I walked down a shady, tree-lines sidewalk that nestled up against the Parkway. Cars whizzed past, driving way too fast for how many pedestrians there were wandering around like morons. I slowed and stopped, arms crossed over my chest, and wondered if he was just messing with me.
When I heard my name.
I turned and saw him, standing in the Rocky line.
I walked over, mouth hanging open. He wore a dark suit, similar to the one from earlier, but different. It was tighter somehow, and he wasn’t wearing a tie anymore. He stood behind a pair of older boomers with big, floppy hats and cargo shorts, and in front of a family of young kids and two harried-looking parents with zoned-out expressions.
“What are you doing?” I asked him.
“Getting a picture with Rocky.”
I shook my head and laughed, not sure what else to do.
“But, I mean, you live here,” I said.
“So what?” He grinned at me, head cocked. “I never got a picture with him before.”
“You remember when it used to be up there?” I asked, gesturing toward the top of the steps.
“Of course. I made my father call Mayor Street when the statue got moved.”
“Was he even in office?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Who knows,” he said. “Probably not.”
I laughed and shook my head. “You’re ins
ane.”
“I’m a Rocky fan, that’s all.”
I sighed and stood close to him as the line slowly moved. People stood with Rocky, took a few pictures, mostly with their arms shoved in the air in triumph.
“You ever do this before?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “I don’t even like Rocky all that much.”
He gave me a sideways glance. “No kidding?”
“The first one was okay,” I said quickly. “And the most recent one. With, uh, what’s his name?”
“Michael B. Jordan,” Vince said. “Yeah, I liked that one too. Even the sequel.”
“I just, I don’t know. It just seems so silly. This stupid statue gets more traffic than the Liberty Bell.”
He snorted. “No, it doesn’t,” he said. “There’s no way. Come on, it’s just a fun thing the city does. I didn’t realize you were such a jaded journalist already.”
“And I didn’t know you were so soft.”
He laughed as we moved forward again. The boomer couple took their turn, alternating poses and taking pictures.
“I’m not soft,” he said, his voice low. “But I don’t have to prove anything to you.”
“No, you don’t,” I said.
It was our turn. He gestured for me to step up and pulled his phone from his pocket. I hesitated then walked to the statue. I stood next to it, feeling awkward, and I could feel everyone staring at me.
“Come on,” he said, “you just made it to the top of the steps. You’ve been training so hard, it’s the end of the montage, you gotta be excited. Fists up in the air, girl.”
I caught a few people smiling at him and I couldn’t help myself. I thrust my hands in the air and he laughed, took a few pictures, then nodded.
“All right, got it,” he said.
“Your turn.” I gestured at the statue.
“Hell, no,” he said and slipped his phone back into his pocket.
I gaped at him. “Wait, what?”
“No way in hell am I getting a picture with that fucking thing.” He laughed and put an arm around my shoulders. “Come on, journalist. Let’s go have a chat.”
I shook my head and laughed, unable to help myself. He steered me from the crowd and I slipped out from under his arm. He winked at me and led me back down past the crowds, along that shady path, and toward the back of the museum. We walked up a hill and toward the Schuylkill River, toward the Fairmount Water Works.
We walked along a wide-open concrete square with a fountain in the center. The Water Works were built into the side of the retaining wall that housed the Schuylkill River. They were old buildings, probably from the 1890s, with marble and white walls, lots of columns, and green roofs. They sat right against the river and used to help bring water into the city, although it hadn’t been active as an actual waterworks for some time.
He angled away from the buildings and led me to the edge of a black spiral staircase. I slowed and stopped as he stood at the end and looked back at me. I’d never seen that staircase before, and for all I knew it led right down into the water.
He grinned at me. “Come on,” he said. “This is my favorite part of the city.”
“What’s down there?” I asked.
He rolled his eyes. “Come on.”
I watched as he descended the staircase. It rocked under his weight and I could’ve sworn it was about to pull out from the wall and tip into the river below.
But I took a step out and looked down.
The spiral staircase led directly onto a ledge down below, maybe ten feet wide, with a concrete path down the middle and grass and trees on either side. I took a breath and followed him, my hand on the railing, praying that the thing wouldn’t break apart and send me falling.
I made it to the bottom and jumped off the last step. I stumbled but he caught me, a little smile on his face.
“Careful,” he said. “Dangerous down here.”
I blinked and looked around. It was a path that led through some bushes, some small trees, and rocks on either side. He took me along it, strolling slow. There was nobody else around, though I spotted old needles in the grass near the gray stone retaining wall, some empty Doritos bags, some plastic water bottles.
“Wow,” I said. “I didn’t know this was here.”
“Not many people do,” he said. “It’s not really advertised. They renovated it a few years back, made it nicer, but that just made it more appealing to homeless people.” He walked on and tugged me with him.
I looked out at the river, at the water moving slowly beneath the bridge that connected West Philly with the rest of the city. Cars crawled along fifty feet above the gently lapping waves. I bit my lip and breathed deep, and the air smelled like gasoline and grass.
He took me around a bend and toward a rock that jutted out over the water. I hesitated as he walked out along it then gestured for me to join him.
I took a few hesitant steps. The stone was large and definitely natural. I guessed whoever had made this little spot decided to keep it. The rock sat out above the water by a few feet, and Vince walked right to the end with a smile on his face.
I joined him, though stayed back from the edge.
“This is the best place in the city,” he said. “Quiet, secluded.”
“Dangerous,” I said.
He nodded and didn’t look back. “Dangerous,” he said. “Imagine if someone came. They could shove us right into the water. What could we do to stop them?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “But you don’t make me want to stay here.”
He turned and faced me. I was very aware of how close we stood, maybe three inches between us, both of us shoved together on a boulder out above the Schuylkill. I had the crazy idea that he might throw me in and leave me there to drown, all because I had the nerve to approach him.
But then I looked into his eyes and my heart skipped a beat.
He stared at me like he wanted me. His head tilted to the side, his handsome lips smiling ever so slightly. I wanted to touch the stubble on his cheek and barely managed to stop myself.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He tilted his head. “I’d like to do it.”
I blinked and took a step back out of sheer surprise.
“Really?”
“Really.” His smile got bigger. “But I have conditions.”
“Of course,” I said too quickly and stopped myself.
He laughed and stepped toward me. I stumbled back from him and my foot slipped. I nearly fell backward, back onto the concrete sidewalk, but he grabbed my arm then slipped his other hand behind my lower back.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Fine,” I said. “You just surprised me.”
“Don’t worry,” he said then helped me down off the rock. “Come on.”
My heart raced as I followed him down the path again. We headed toward the waterworks, and he stopped at a large bench built in around a tree near steps that led back up to the main park. He sat down and crossed his legs.
I sat down next to him, leaving a few inches between us.
“This is what I’m thinking,” he said. “The most obvious thing is you can’t ever use my name. And you can’t use my associates’ names. Everyone get fake names, and the details have to get screwed up. It can’t be obvious that you’re writing about me.”
“I think I can manage that,” I said. “I’m not sure exactly how, but I’ll try.”
“Good.” He nodded and stared out at the water. “I want you to show me what you write before you publish it. I won’t try to stop you, no matter what you say, unless it’s too revealing of my identity. Do you think that’s fair?”
I bit my lip and shook my head. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I can’t give you say over that. If I put my time into this, you can’t be able to just… shoot it down.”
He frowned at me for a moment then shrugged. “Fine then. But still, show it to
me before you publish.”
“That’s a deal.”
“All right then.” He shifted in his seat and looked at me. “Last condition is the most important one. I want you to come stay with me.”
I reared back and stared at him. My heart did a double beat and I took a sharp breath to steady myself.
“What do you mean, stay with you?”
“If you want to do this right, you’ll need to be my shadow,” he said like it was no big deal. “You’ll move into my place, stay in a guest room. You’ll follow me around for the next couple of weeks. When I go back to New York, that’ll be the end of our arrangement.”
“But, I don’t… I can’t just… you want me to move in with you?” I gaped at him and felt a bead of sweat run down my back.
Out on the river, two kayaks glided past.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m a perfect gentleman.”
“No, you’re not,” I blurted out.
He laughed and stretched his arms out then sighed.
“Okay, I’m not,” he said. “And I’m not going to promise that I won’t try and take you when I want you, my little journalist. But I will promise that I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.”
“This is crazy,” I said. “I want to write a profile on you, not live with you.”
“These are my terms,” he said.
“They’re crazy terms.”
He shrugged and gestured like he didn’t care.
I turned and stared at the water. I watched it rise and fall in tiny little peaks as the wind picked up. I wondered how much trash was in there, how many bodies, how many secrets. That river, that damned river, helped sustain the city for so long, was its source of water, its source of waste. It flowed into the Delaware then out into the sea, so far from here.
I could feel the choice in front of me. I could see my life branching off in two different directions. There was the Mona that played it safe, that didn’t go for this crazy deal, that kept on working on her safe stories in her safe life.
That Mona didn’t get anywhere.
