.⋆ Romeo ⋆.

Aleksandr Castro-Ivanov had made a promise to himself the last time that he was in Russia. 

He would never see the snow again. It was filled with nothing but bad memories.

But, nobody wanted to hire someone who was fired for drinking on the job, besides a ski-lodge in northern New York state. 

He was right back in the snow, in the cold, and in the mountains. Everything was covered in a thick layer of white, the sun was rarely ever out.

It reminded him of the times during Russian winters where the sun would never peak above the horizon. 

Sasha was sitting in front of the small space heater kept in the gift shop atop the mountain, rubbing his hands together in front of it and blowing on his tingling fingers. 

He looked up when the bell rang.

“Welcome to Westermost Peaks gift shop!” He said in a fakely chipper voice, his hands fidgeting still in front of the hot air. 

It looked like a family of four, two parents and two children. The parents both ignored him, their hands rifling through the overpriced snow outfits with the company logo, but one of the children looked at him. The girl had dark black hair. 

“You sound funny.” The daughter remarked, her mousey eyes were digging into his purple ones.

“Thank you,” Sasha replied, barely paying attention to the toddler in front of him. He was mostly concerned about the teenage boy digging through the snack area. He was wearing a white ski coat and a pair of red snowpants. 

“Why don’t you talk like a normal adult?” She asked.

“Because I think it’s fun to confuse little girls about why I sound the way I do.” Sasha chuckled as the child wrinkled her nose and ran to her big brother. 

“He talks weird,” The child declared,

“Who does?” The boy asked, inauspiciously sliding a bag of nacho cheese doritos into the pocket of his jacket.

“The desk man.” Her black bob bounced a little as she aggressively pointed towards Sasha.

The clerk rolled his eyes, before hearing the distinctive jingle of keys that meant his life was going to become a lot more annoying. His boss, Mario Esposito, was going to come in. Something he did every time Sasha was working.

“Aleksandr!” The Italian man greeted, his arms out stretched, his balding black hair was combed over in a style that looked more like a principal in a kid’s tv show. 

“Hello, Mister Esposito,” Sasha greeted, putting on a customer service smile.

The manager began to sift through the stock of children’s ski jackets that had designs of cute cartoon characters and unrealistically proportioned animals.

“Have you been inventorying what they have been buying?” Mario asked, poking Sasha’s chest.

“Yes, I have been,” Sasha confirmed, closing his eyes, “I have been writing every single item purchased by every single client that comes into the shop.” 

“Great!” Mario cheered, patting the Russian on his shoulder.  “You know how much I hate it when people don’t inventory correctly.” The Italian walked off. His left knee was wobbling strangely.

Mario began talking to the family, who was still milling about. Sasha grabbed the notebook, which was filled with doodles and a basic description of everything purchased. Even though the system kept track of everything, Sasha had seen people be fired for not running the till exactly the way their boss wanted, so he figured even if he didn’t enjoy writing a bunch of words down on the pad of paper, it was better than losing a job and having to move back in with his dad.

“Make sure you pay for those snacks, young man,” Mario reminded the teenager, whose eyes shot open wide when the manager acknowledged his overflowing pockets stuffed with chips and candy bars. The boy looked up at his parents.

“Can I please get these, mom?” The boy asked, his hands fidgeting with the zipper of his fluffy jacket. 

“Lenard, you can get two pieces of candy and your sister can get two.” Their mom decided, carding her hair through her son’s bowl cut.

The father sighed, tapping his foot. He had two jackets slung over his left arm, one of which appeared to be for himself and the other seemed to be for his young daughter, who was only wearing a thin hoodie. 

Lenard and the sister started digging through the candy bowls, grabbing whatever their hands could gather.

“Aleksandr, reorganize the shelves, it looks like a hurricane hit it!”  

“Okay, Mario. I will handle that once they’re out of here. Can’t focus with them thudding around and scratching through the bowl.” The sounds of fingernails scraping the wooden bowl was like fingernails on a chalkboard.

The kids jumped up from the floor, their boots skidding on the polished hardwood floors and dropped a Snickers bar, two reese’s and a KitKat on the desk. 

The father placed the jackets down on the counter, with the candies on top. 

“Can you just slip me the candies? For free? I’m a repeat customer–,” The man was interrupted by Sasha sighing.

“Nope, can’t give you multiple free products because this is your second time coming to this ski resort.” The Russian insisted, leaning onto his hands. 

“But why not?” The mom asked, her hands wrapped tightly around her husband’s arm and her son’s shoulders. 

“Because. Your stay here doesn’t cover the snacks your children wish to purchase.” Sasha wrote down the names of the candies, checking the size of both jackets. “Father-daughter matching jackets? Cute.” Sasha remarked, trying to steer the conversation away from the tense one about cutting prices down.

“That will be two-hundred-fifty dollars and 15 cents.” The Russian drummed his fingers along the sheet of glass. It made a hollow sound, like hitting a wooden drum.

“That is quite a steep price, especially for a child’s jacket.” The father grumbled, grabbing his wallet out.

“I know I know Mister, I don’t exactly price things, but I agree with you. Everything here is just logos, you’re paying the price of the pattern on the chest rather than the actual value of the snow jacket you’re buying. But that’s just my opinion.”

The man handed over the money, and behind them, stood the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.