RUSLAN
The sleazy motherfucker is leaning against his rundown Buick LeSabre when I step out onto the street. He straightens up when he sees me, his eyes sharp, his fingers twitching. “What a pleasure running into—”
“Cut the s**t, Remmy.” My voice is low with menace, but that’s only because I don’t want to draw attention to this little exchange. The kids are terrified enough as it is. “What the f**k do you think you’re doing?”
He shrugs nonchalantly, but his fingers keep twitching and he fidgets around a little too much. “Was just in the neighborhood.”
“And you make a habit of prowling around the streets, looking for… what, exactly?”
His crooked smile isn’t the least bit intimidating, no matter how much he might wish otherwise. “A story.”
“You’re not going to find one here.”
“Oh, I b
