Igor’s looked as Igor’s had always looked since the day his great grandfather had opened the doors. The crumbling red paint on the outside had always been crumbling, it was just much more so now. The beat up old door that squeaked when you walked in. Vlad never bothered to oil it. It was an easy fix, but it was part of the way it had always been. The red neon sign outside blinked Igor’s was always on, no matter the time of day.
If you had never been to Igor’s before and expected the inside to be the same as the outside you would be highly mistaken. The inside was luxurious. The walls were painted in faux marble. The chair rails and molding were all specially carved pieces of dark wood that looked like mahogany but were much cheaper. All the woodwork from floor to ceiling was polished nightly.
The floors were white tiles that were bleached nightly. The ceiling glittered with fake crystal chandeliers. Everything about the place was fake, but no one seemed to care, it was in the Red Light district after all.
In the background Russian classical music played from the Might Handful. They were not Vlad’s favorite, but it kept with the mood. If you wanted authentic Russian Cuisine this is where you came. Igor’s probably could have moved uptown, and you could pay a high dollar for what they served, but here in the Red Light District, you could go unnoticed for many a thing. And Vlad liked it that way, as had his father and his father before him since the opening of Igor’s.
[..] The restaurant pretty much ran itself. The day manager, Ivanna Pavelova scheduled everything and insured that the books were correct.
[…]if you wanted to work here you had to speak Russian.
Igor’s on The Red Light District Forum
Igor’s is a family business run by the Perov Family originally started by Igor Perov. His son took over the business and when he died of a heart attack Vladimir took over. After Vladimir’s death, Vlad’s sister took over the family business — her son Peter is learning the ins and outs of the restaurant biz (and other things).
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