Dr. Nebojsa by Frank S. W

Author:Frank, S. W. [Frank, S. W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Organized Crime, Contemporary, Romance, Multicultural & Interracial, (BW/WM) Black Woman/ White Man
ISBN: 9781499313642
Google: V8qjoAEACAAJ
Amazon: 1499313640
Goodreads: 22080590
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
Published: 2014-05-03T04:00:00+00:00

C HAPTER THIRTEEN

“You have returned to the University?” Petrov’s friend Constantin asked between sips of pivo.

“Da,” Petrov replied craning his head to view the many stars that were still too far away despite their elevation.

Below they could see the Danube and Sava Rivers. The scenery on tepid nights was a nice backdrop instead of walls of an estate and building of higher learning.

Constantin removed a bag of weed from his pocket. “This is the best. Most of my loyal customers are students. I make good profits with them. Since you’ve returned to the university you can be a distributor and we can split the profits, da?”

“Ne,” Petrov answered. “My Tata is not forgiving for repeated offenses. He has already lessened my allowance, I cannot risk becoming impoverished.”

“This is an opportunity to make your own money.”

Petrov thought about the offer. Constantin was an opportunist. The Nebojsa name opened many doors in the YU. With deft fingers, Constantin rolled the thin wafer-type paper containing seedless cannabis.

Constantin chuckled, took another clear bag from his pocket, cradling the unfinished joint on his lap to stick his fingers in the plastic to take out several pinches of the white powder and sprinkled the substance liberally over the herb. While watching, Petrov wondered if Constantin understood to become addicted to his product could never yield profit because any he received would evaporate in smoke. Partnering with someone without common sense or discipline is a fool’s contract.

Petrov found the idea of making money independent of his father’s holdings attractive. Besides, exercising independence is what garnered Bojan the respect of their father. Petrov could tell that despite his eldest sibling’s rebellion, a familial bond existed, forged strong before Petrov was born.

Bojan also had his father’s respect.

His father never spoke of the hardships during the wars to Petrov or his rise from the slums. Petrov did know his father’s commandment of a paramilitary force was instrumental in winning many skirmishes. His group of soldiers was from Western Europe countries linked with criminal activities. Petrov surmised his father’s affinity to Bojan was fostered by his eldest brother’s knowledge of crimes that Petrov was not privy.

Petrov could never measure up to his older brother. Bojan’s achievements were many. Serbia's gratitude was impenetrably –strong.

“You and I can forge our futures without the pressure of family. I have some connections but with a large investment and you as my partner we can become young rich men,” he said putting the unsealed paper to his mouth and licking it as he twisted to ensure it remained tight before lighting up. His eyes were slits behind the smoke. “Your esteemed otac does not like me because I am Romani.” He snorted. “But we are of the new generation where such things do not matter to friends, da Petrov?”

Petrov nodded. The Romani people migrated from India nearly 800 years ago. Enslaved by the Europeans over the centuries, they suffered prejudice, exclusion and even violent persecution. Constantin’s dark complexion and the shadowy insular subculture to which he

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