Page 12 of Cherished By the BRATVA Grump

“Does Demyan come in much?” I ask, surprising myself.

Sammie shakes her head. “Not really. But he asked Eduard to send him elsewhere for a while, so he won’t be around much for a while anyway.”

I stop what I’m doing for a second and then catch myself before Sammie notices.

The timing isn’t lost on me. I told him to leave, and he is literally leaving town.

Demyan

A week. I promised Eduard a week. But every hour feels like a while new kind of torture. I get on with my assigned duties around the yard. I help the guys when Jefferson calls in sick. I drive the forklift and the lorries. The only thing I don’t work is the crane, and that’s because that thing has more levers and buttons than the International Space Station.

God only knows I can’t sleep. I hate crossing the bridge into town in case I see her. Even though there would be no reason for me to accidentally bump into her unless I went to the café or the bookstore.

I just need to stay away, and I can do that for a week until Eduard sends me somewhere else.

The gym has become a second home to me. So much so, that when I hear on the grapevine that the owner, a guy in his fifties who used to be an award-winning bodybuilder, is selling up. I buy it.

That’s why I’m here at two thirty in the morning, pushing myself to breaking point. I collapse onto the weight bench, sweating and panting, and look around.

Paint peels from the walls. Posters that are considerably outdated hang lopsided beside barred windows. The equipment is good, but there are the odd bits that need repairs. A few more machines would be beneficial, too, so the few regulars who do come here don’t have to wait for their turn. The floor is worn away entirely in patches, revealing the scuffed black bitumen beneath.

Terry, the previous owner, asked what I was planning to do with the place. He seemed to believe I’d rip it apart and turn it into a glossy modern affair. But I like the old school feel of the place. Though the showers could definitely do with an upgrade.

The early morning hours turn into day, and a few guys turn up to use the gym as usual. I catch snippets of conversation about workouts and nutrition, along with the rumor that there’s a new dealer on the scene pushing steroid shots. I make a mental note of the name, in case it becomes a problem later down the line.

I call a plumber about the current shower situation, and he agrees to come out and give me a quote today. He turns up at lunch, while I’m eating my take-out sub and sipping bitter coffee made in the pot Terry left in the kitchenette off the side of the office.

He offers his brother’s services as a painter and decorator, and I agree. The walls inside and out need refreshing, and it feels good to have a list of tasks to focus on.

I’m tinkering with the lat pulldown machine when Eduard pushes the door open.

Late afternoon crept up on me without me even noticing.

“You bought a gym,” he says, partly a question and partly a statement.

“I did.” I wipe my hands on a rag and stand up, walking to him.

“Why?” He looks around the space with curiosity. “There’s one in your building.”

“Because I wanted to.”

“What does that mean?” he asks.

“It means I own a gym.” I place my hands in my pockets and rock back and forth on the balls of my feet.

“Okay,” he says. “There’s a delivery at the yard for the café; I was wondering if you could take it tonight after closing. It’s Christmas stock, or something.”

“Sure,” I say.

“I’d take it myself, but I’m taking Sammie to that new restaurant that’s opened. Valeria said she’d watch the kids.”

“Cool,” I mutter.

“A gym…” He shakes his head and raises his brows. “You know, Demyan, working for the family and being part of the family aren’t mutually exclusive. You’ll always be a Federov even if you no longer want to work for the family…”

That surprises me. I always assumed that you’re born into the family and you work for the family until the day you die.

“You have your own wealth, your own aspirations,” he gestures at the gym. “If you want out of the business, I get it.”