Sasha, Not Aleks

five - dead or alive

"Very."

"Good. You have two weeks until the party and you must have her in tow. He will pay attention to her because his cars are important to him and she can talk cars with him. It'll keep the eyes off you so you can pass under his radar without being noticed. You already have things going for you, you're not a known entity within the Starikov family, but this'll seal that up."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"How do I do that?"

"Remember what you told Misha about his little crush?"

I swear under my breath, "flowers aren't going to work, Uncle Ilya."

"Well, sometimes they do."

My door about busts in because of the knock on the outside, "I have to go, now, that's my father."

"Call me back," Ilya commands. I hang up on him and slip my phone into my pocket, opening the door to an angry Andrei Starikov.

"You, boy," he grabs my collar. "He gave everyone bonuses, our money is gone and I want him dead. You hear me?"

I nod and he gives my shirt a good shake, screaming 'words, boy' into my face, "I hear you!" I shout back. "Get off me."

"You bring that man to me dead or fucking alive but I bet you're too much of a pussy to bring him dead."

I brush off the front of my shirt.

"Are you fucking hearing me?"

I nod, "I understand."

"You bring that man to me and you bring him quickly or else I might not take pity on you," he shoves me backward, "you're a fucking disapointment, you know that, Aleksandr?"

I nod again.

"Runt," he growls at me. It's been the tagline for years, not even the other side of my family disagrees. I'm the exact same size as Andrei Jr, taller than Zoya, I'm just called the runt because I can't throw a man across the room and I've never wanted to be able to.

I hate it. I hate being called the runt. I'm not a fucking small guy. I was never a small guy just-

"I swear, Aleksandr," he hisses at me, "if you mess this up, it's going to be the last thing you ever do. Do you understand?"

I nod, "I understand."

"You get me that man and if I see you messing around and not doing what you're supposed to, I'll make sure you never leave that stupid kitchen."

Little does he know, I actually like the kitchen.

"What's the little smirk?" He knots his hand back in my shirt, grabbing my chin and making me face him. "I let you have what you want and you get an attitude, huh?"

I stare him dead in the eyes, my father is scary, but god knows he ran away from Ilya and Nikita.

He shakes my chin, jostling my head, "go get a haircut, nobody is going to take you seriously with sissy hair."

"Get out of my house."

"What?"

I repeat it in english, "get out of my house."

"Were you doing something important?"

I clench my jaw so hard I might have to call my dentist tomorrow, "I was planning for your stupid kill party."

His eyebrows go up, "were you?"

"Yes, now get out."

He doesn't go out without more fuss. I only got him out by agreeing to chaperone him on a trip tomorrow morning, which shouldn't involve anything too bad, I assume it's just some sort of cleanup trip. I can go on a motorcycle and avoid them to the fullest extent by not even being in their cars.

By the time I get Ilya back on the phone, his brother is available.

Nikita is in the same boat as him, agreeing that I should try to bring the mechanic along. It becomes more than an agreement when I forward them her bio on the website that includes a picture.

Nikita and Ilya both agree that she could very easily pass for high class with a face like she has and that will single handedly pull me straight out of the suspicion ranks.

"So, what do I need to do at the party?" I ask, sitting down again at my kitchen table. I made myself piroshki for dinner and while they're a little cold now, they're still good to eat.

"You need to win him over, research that business front to back and get all the information you can, you have to thoroughly pass as a business exec. The girl will help. A finance degree will let you in on everything he's talking about."

"So am I telling her about what's going on or am I bringing her along with hopes that she does what I need her to do for me," I scratch the back of my head, "because telling her is dangerous, I don't know who she is."

Nikita and Ilya don't respond at first.

Then Ilya decides not to help me, "you have to decide that on your own, we're not there to make that decision for you."

"Okay, fair," I mumble, "so at the party I'm just trying to scope him out and win his trust, right?"

"Right. How are you planning on delivering him to your dad?"
"I'm gonna bring my Dad to him," I respond, "less blame on me."

"Fair," Nikita responds, "the least amount of charges you can get away with, the better, because there's no way my brother isn't getting caught with this."