Ch 17: Skeletons In His Closet

                                    

                                          
I storm through the front door. I drop everything in the closet and head straight to my sanctuary. 
                          
I need some release.  
                          
A few hours later, I'm hungry, sweaty and tired. I take the nearby towel and dry the sweat off of my brow and nape, and I head upstairs for a late dinner.  By the smell of it, its bangers and mash; my favorite. 
                          
"Are you ready to eat Mr. Vincent?" My personal chef, Godric asks.
                          
"I am, thank you Godric." I take a seat at the island in the top of the line kitchen, in this overly extravagant mansion that I live in alone. My bowl of bangers and mash is placed in front of me, along with my utensils, and a Jever Lager to wash it all down with. 
                          
"Will that be all Mr. Vincent?" He says with a smile.
                          
"Yes Godric. Thank you." 
                          
He smiles once more and heads out of the front door to a nearby residence, only about two houses away. Upon his departure I am met with silence. I'm used to it I suppose, it's always quiet here. I hear the ringer on my phone, still packed away on my leather napsack.  I stand, not really in any rush to retrieve it. I rummage through the compartments until I get hold of it. I look at the caller ID and recognize the number immediately.
                          
"Novak..." I answer, not really in the mood for his crap.
                          
"Python. Are you well these days?" He asks in a heavy Russian accent.
                          
"In a manner of speaking.  What do you want?" I pulse my jaw impatiently.
                          
"Always straight to business with you." He chuckles.
                          
"...yeah..."
                          
He takes a deep breath. "Alright. Look WU -"
                          
"Forget it Novak, I'm done." 
                          
"Python! You can't be serious! Why would you give that up?! Was there not enough money? Were there not enough damsels to satisfy your ravenous appetite? What has happened to you?" He lets out a frustrated huff.
                          
I snort at his questions. "I've moved on Novak. That life gets old fast. I just needed...more. Don't you ever want more?"
                          
"Of course, that is why I raise the stakes all the time. More is better." He laughs.
                          
I pace the foyer in agitation. "That's not what I mean Novak." 
                          
He scoffs. "You want to pretend to be a domesticated shchenok (puppy) fine, but you and I both know that there is a beast that lives inside you and one of these days, it's going to escape. When it does...you know where I am moy drug." (My friend) He takes a deep breath. "Look, if you are worried about the feds, don't. They gave up a long time ago. Come back. I will make sure that you get your cake and eat the entire bakery too." He laughs at his own joke.
                          
"No." 
                          
"F*** Python. You have me by the yaichki here. (Balls) Look, just think about it and give me a call back."
                          
"I doubt you'll ever get that call Novak. Like I said, I'm done."
                          
He chuckles darkly. "For now. I will see you soon, moy odomashneny drug." (My domesticated friend) With that he hangs up the phone.
                          
I am about to launch my phone into the far wall, when I realize that's what he would want; for me to lose my temper and unleash the "beast". Never again. I finish off my meal and put the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. I then pick up my things, cut off the downstairs lights and head upstairs to my sleeping quarters for a hot shower. 
                          
I drop my things in my too large for one person master suite and head into the en suite bathroom.
                          
It's been a year at least. Why is he calling me now?