California Fire And Life

84

"We're dead."

Translated from Russian, this is basically what Dani is telling Nicky.

They're taking a walk out on the lawn of Mother's house.

As far from the house as they can get, because the scene in the house is driving Nicky crazy.

It's the kids, it's the dog, it's Mother. Actually it's an unholy troika of the kids, the dog and Mother because the kids love the dog and Mother doesn't. The kids want the dog in the house and Mother doesn't, the dog wants to jump up on the couch and Mother has a stroke, the dog wants to sleep with the kids and the kids want to sleep with the dog but Mother wants the dog to sleep outside, which is the same as Mother saying she wants the dog dead – which she does. And last night Nicky experienced the sheer absurdity of making Leo sleep in a doghouse outside and then posting an armed guard by the doghouse so the kids would stop crying and so that little Michael wouldn't, as threatened, sleep in the doghouse with his rubber knife to protect Leo from the coyotes.

Next, Nicky thinks, I'll be stringing barbed wire around the living room sofa.

And Mother will not get off little Michael's back. Natalie she ignores completely. Looks right through the girl as if she were a ghost, but Michael she suffocates with attention. Most of it negative. Poor little Michael cannot do anything right. All day it's Michael, use the napkin not your sleeve, Michael, it's time to do your scales, Michael, a little gentleman walks with his head up.

A broken record, Nicky thinks. An oldie but goodie, as the American DJs would say.

Driving the boy crazy.

Driving me crazy.

So it's good to get away from that scene.

Take a walk on the lawn even if it is to hear that you are, more likely than not, dead.

"Tratchev is demanding a meeting," Dani says. "For tonight."

"Tonight?"

"They don't want us to have time to get ready," Dani says.

"But they'll be ready."

"Yes."

"Tell him no."

"Then we're at war."

"So we're at war."

Dani shakes his head. "Given our present strength compared to his, we can't win the war."

Nicky can hear the unspoken rebuke in Dani's voice.

And it's deserved.

In my obsession to be a California businessman, I let things deteriorate. To a point where now we are in mortal danger.

Very uncool.

"So we meet," Nicky says.

Dani shakes his head again.

"At this meeting," he says, "they'll kill you."

Tratchev is selling it to the others and it's an easy sale. Nicky Vale is taking my business – he'll take yours next. Unless we stop him, and soon.

"Tratchev will accuse you of looting the obochek," Dani says. "A serious violation of Vorovskoy Zakon. And this meeting won't be like the last. They'll be ready."

Nicky takes a moment to inhale the scent of bougainvillea. The luminescent color of the fuchsia. The bright blue of the ocean and sky.

Beautiful.

"All I ever wanted was this," he says.

"I know," Dani says.

"I'll go to the meeting," Nicky says. "Alone."

"You can't."

"Why should we all die?"

" Pakhan -"

Nicky puts up his hand. Enough.

I will do what has to be done.

I will deal with Tratchev and all the rest.

Dani says, "There's something else."

"Wonderful."

"The sister."

"What about her?" Nicky asks.

"She's been asking about the two Vietnamese."

"What? " Nicky asks. "How do you know this?"

"She's been making a noise in Little Saigon," Dani says. "Putting real heat on."

"How did she make that connection? "

You think you're safe. You think you've used all your skill and cunning to steer through the rapids and the shoals and then this cunt of a sister…

"We'll do what we have to do," Nicky says.

"She's a cop."

"I know that."

"An honest cop."

"I know that, too."

"It's too much for a coincidence," Dani says. "Two sisters-"

"Goddamn it, will you do as I say?!"

I know it's a risk. It's all a risk. But I didn't kill my beautiful Pamela and make my children motherless just to lose everything anyway.

We will do what we have to do – however regrettable – and we will do it soon. And the day after tomorrow we will have our share of $50 million, more than enough to start again.

From ashes come new shoots of grass.

Life from death.