Gavriil (Stepanov Mafia)

“What people? Where have you been?”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

I sat down in the rocking chair opposite him. “No, I am going to worry about it. What have you been doing?”

For the first time since I’d walked into the room, Devin looked me in the eyes. His were both red and glassy. He’d been crying.

“Devin?”

He laughed, but it was a bitter sound. Angry. “I’ve been failing, Sam.”

“Why? Tell me what is going on?”

He jumped to his feet, looking much nimbler than he had the last time I’d seen him. “I can’t get $50,000 in the next seven days. Gavril is going to kill me.”

Gavril? Who was that? I felt like I’d heard the name somewhere before, but I couldn’t place it.

“Who is Gavril?” I asked.

Devin waved my question away. “The less you know, the better. I don’t need you getting tangled up in this mess.”

I leaned forward, my elbows resting on my knees. “You have to tell me what is going on if I’m going to help you.”

“You aren’t going to help me,” he shouted. “I can’t be helped.”

“I made $500,” I said, inflating the total a little bit.

He rolled his eyes. “We might as well use it as spare toilet paper for all the good it will do me now. I’m fucked.”

Devin collapsed back onto the couch and ran his hand gingerly over his lumpy face. “I should just do it for them,” he whispered.

“Do what for them?” I asked. Then, I realized what he’d meant. Before I could even think about it, I’d crossed the room and knelt down in front of him. “Don’t you ever say that. Never. Do you hear me? Conways don’t give up.”

He laughed again. I hated the sound. It was dark and hopeless. “Dad gave up.”

“Dad was a piece of shit. Are you a piece of shit?” He opened his mouth, but I put my finger over his lips to stop him. “Don’t answer that.”

This time I got a real laugh.

“We can’t give up,” I said. “I need you. Mom needs us. Both of us. You, especially.”

He lowered his head, and I knew what I was saying was working. He looked ashamed.

“She has missed you these past couple weeks, you know? She asks about you every day.”

“What do you tell her?” he asked.

“I lie.”

“Well, that’s not working. You’re a terrible liar.”

“I told you I had $500 earlier and you didn’t know I lied.”

“You don’t have any money?” he asked, any trace of a smile gone.

“Just over $400.” I shrugged.

He shrugged in return. Then, he sighed and let his arms flop to his sides, limp. “The only way out of this is the same way I got into it.”

“You’re going to steal the money?”

“I think I have to. There’s no other choice.”

“That’s a lot of money to steal. Where would you get it?”

“A bank?” He’d said it like he was looking for a suggestion.

“No offense, but I don’t think you’re smart enough to rob a bank.”

He looked offended but didn’t disagree. Then he bit his lower lip, a sure sign that he was nervous. “There are other options.”

“Okay, what are they? We are desperate.”

“I could sell myself.”

My forehead wrinkled in confusion for a moment, and then I noticed the blush in his cheeks.

“Like, prostitution?”

He nodded.

“But you’re a man,” I said, nose wrinkled.

“There are male prostitutes! Straight women get horny too.”

I guess that made sense. However, the idea of my brother selling his body to make money was too horrible to think about.

“You’d have to charge a lot per… you know,” I said, too embarrassed to finish the thought.

He sagged forward and rested his forehead on his knees. “God, I know. And no one would pay that much. It would be humiliating. Plus, I could never do it.”

I patted his shoulder, a small attempt at comfort, and then we sat there in awkward silence, neither of us knowing what to say.

Finally, I broke the quiet. “You could always try to run. Just pick up and disappear.”

“I thought you and Mom needed me,” he said.

Honestly, we didn’t. Devin had never been much help where Mom was concerned. Before she’d gotten sick, he had always been the one in trouble, the one being dragged home by his barely sober friends, the one we had to use our savings to bail out of jail. Things got marginally better after Mom got sick, but not enough that he was a benefit to the household. As harsh as it sounded, he was still a burden more than a benefit.

“We do,” I lied, hoping he wouldn’t notice. “But if you don’t have another choice, then we’d understand. You have to save yourself if you can.”

He sighed. “Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. The mob is tailing me. I’ve noticed them following me the last few days.”

“The mob?”

Devin looked at me, confusion crossing his face before he realized what he’d said. “Oh, shit. Don’t freak out, Sam. Don’t—”