Part 27 (1/2)
”Pretty soon, one of Kirill's guys-Pavel; I think you two met-he comes to me and says I should apply for a job opening at the Department of Children and Families. Turns out they got a guy in HR working off his own debt. So I apply and he waives the CORI check, and I get the job that I'm eminently overqualified for. A few weeks later, after a particularly attractive fourteen-year-old pregnant girl leaves my office, my phone rings and they tell me I have to present her with an offer.”
”What do you get per baby?” Angie's voice was weary with contempt.
”One thousand off my debt.”
”So you've got to get them five hundred and twenty-six babies before you're off the hook?”
He gave that a resigned nod.
”How close are you?”
”Not close enough.”
My phone vibrated again. I looked at it. Same number. I put it back in my pocket.
My wife said, ”You know even if you got them five hundred and twenty-six babies to sell on the black market ...”
He finished the sentence. ”They'll never be done with me.”
”No.”
My cell vibrated a third time. I had a text message. I flipped the phone open.
Hey guy. Anser your f.u.c.king phone. Sincerely Yefim.
Dre took another hit from his flask. ”You're like a fifteen-year-old girl with that thing.”
”Yeah, well, you'd know all about that.”
My phone rang again. I got off the couch and walked out to the front porch. Amanda was right-from here, you could hear the brook gurgle.
”h.e.l.lo.”
”h.e.l.lo, my good guy. What you do with the Hummer?”
”I drove it over to the stadium and left it there.”
”Ha. That's a good one. Maybe I see Belichick driving it one day in his hoodie.”
In spite of myself, I smiled.
”What's up, Yefim?”
”Where you at, my friend?”
”Around. Why?”
”I thought maybe we could talk. Maybe we could help each other out here.”
”How'd you get my phone number?”
He laughed, a deep, long belly chuckle. ”You know what day it is?”
”It's Thursday.”
”It is Thursday, yes, my friend. And Friday is a big day.”
”Because you wanted Kenny and Helene to find you something by Friday.”
I could hear the snort through the phone. ”Kenny and Helene couldn't find a chicken in the chicken soup, my man. But you? I look in your eyes after I shoot that f.a.ggot car and I see you're afraid-you'd be one icy f.u.c.ker if you weren't-but I also see you're curious. You sitting there thinking, If this crazy Mordovian don't pull this trigger, I've got to know why he points it at me in the first place. I see that in your eyes, man. I see it. You a type.”
”Yeah, what type?”
”The type keep coming. What's that saying about size of the dog?”
”It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's-”
”The size of the fight in the little dog. Yeah.”
”Close enough.”
”So, I've got to figure you already know where this crazy Amanda is.”
”What makes you think she's crazy?”
”She stole from us. That makes her f.u.c.king cuckoo clock, man. And if you don't know where she is, I bet a bag of mice you're close.”
”A bag of mice?”
”Old Mordovian expression.”
”Ah.”
”So where's she at, my friend?”
”Let me ask you something first.”
”Shoot straight away.”
”What does she have that you want so bad?”
”You playing with me, guy?”
”No.”
”Making fun of Yefim?”
”Definitely not.”