“Yell all you want, Igor, the Yankees are going to lose this game.” Ivan pops a pretzel in his mouth.
“The asshole has a hole in his mitt, I swear it. He’s throwing the game on purpose.” My father points a finger at his longtime friend, then sees me standing in the doorway and changes his stance. A grin breaks out across his face. “Nikolai.”
“Hey.” I move further into the room. “How’s the game?” I never got into sports. At least not the way my father has. I’ve seen him crush grown men’s lives with a flick of his wrist, without a flicker of regret or emotion. But to have his Yankees down by two runs will ruin his afternoon.
“They aren’t doing good.” He shakes his head then picks up the remote and turns the volume down. “Down by two and they’re going into the last inning.”
“They can still come back.” I offer hope, not knowing if it’s real or not.
Ivan laughs. “The way they are playing today, it would be a miracle.” He leans forward and grabs another fistful of pretzels from the bowl on the coffee table.
Dad gives him a dirty look then makes his way over to me. “What’s wrong?” He can always tell when there’s bad news coming.
“Small issue.” I lift a shoulder. “I’m taking care of it, but I wanted to make sure you’re aware of it.”
He slides one hand into his pocket and stares at me, the full demeanor of his expression hardening.
“We can talk after the game,” I offer, but he shakes his head.
“Forget the game. What’s going on?” Dad prompts.
Ivan gets up from the couch and grabs the remote, turning off the television. Ivan’s dealings in our family have been on the fringe. He doesn’t get his hands dirty, but he helps when he can. I’ve never really understood his role, other than he and my father worked together when they were younger, and he was to be trusted.
“Found the bear in the wrong pockets this week,” I explain.
He frowns. “Did you find the source?”
“Not yet, but I’m working on it.”
Dad gestures for me to sit in the leather armchair while he takes the chair across the table and Ivan sits back on the couch.
“I was hoping it was an unapproved sale, but I think it’s more. I’m looking into it, but I wanted to keep you in the loop. I think one of our distribution lines is split.” Someone’s selling our shit outside the line he’s supposed to be, and we’ll have to track him down.
“Any of the money not showing up like it’s supposed to?” Ivan asks casually. “Someone short this month that’s not usually?”
I shake my head. “No. Finances line up fine.”
“So, whoever’s doing this is probably making a profit off our product, pocketing it, and then paying his usual cut back to us.” Dad grips the ends of the armchair. Fucking with our money has one penalty and one only. Even if the guilty person is giving us the usual cut, he’s making profit off our product. He might as well be stealing cash right out of my pocket.
“This just happened?” Ivan shakes a fist full of pretzels in his hand then tosses one into his mouth.
“This week, yeah,” I nod. “Like I said, I’m looking into it, but I wanted you to be aware.”
Dad nods. “Make sure you talk to Roman and Arman.”
“I’ll talk with them tomorrow.”
“Good.” Dad lets out a heavy sigh.
“He’ll figure it out.” Ivan tosses back another pretzel. “Could still be a onetime thing.”
He could be right, but I doubt it. If there’s a leak in our distribution, it needs to be plugged.
“That girl you brought last night, what was her name?” Dad swings the topic exactly where I don’t want to go.
“Charlotte.”
“Is it serious? You brought her to my birthday party, Nikolai. It’s not exactly the place to bring your latest conquest.” He raises his eyebrows.