His strong torso, firm muscles, and piercing gray eyes made the local girls go wild. Every one of them wanted his attention. Even some older women longed for him with shameless hunger.
His mother constantly tried to fend off the many women chasing her son, but they always found ways to get close to him.
As if that wasn’t enough, Spartacus was involved in underground fights. His mother often had to nurse him for days after each brutal match. But no amount of tears or threats could make him quit.
“Why the hell did German name you that?!” she’d cry as she treated his wounds. “You trying to die like he did?!”
“Mama, relax. It’s just sport. We’re not really trying to kill each other,” he’d say, trying to calm her down.
And truth be told, it brought in good money. But that wasn’t the only headache. There was also a whole line of women practically following him around. And Spartacus didn’t exactly mind.
Sometimes Vera, a pretty young woman, would ask for help fixing her wiring, and he’d show up. Somehow, things would drag out till morning. Or Klavdia would call—something about a broken table. Same story. He was just too kind to say no.
“You keep it up, and one day your kindness will land you with a baby and a wedding you didn’t plan!” his mother scolded.
“I'm not stupid!” he'd reply, blushing and making a quick exit.
“So, Uncle Pasha—what’s this about?” Spartacus asked, taking a seat at the dinner table. He hadn’t seen his stepfather that morning, so the conversation was pushed to the evening.
“Let’s eat first, then we’ll talk,” the older man replied, scooping up fried potatoes from the big skillet at the center of the table, then reaching for a plate of roasted chicken.
“Can I help Spartacus too?” Styopa asked with his mouth full.
“No, you can't,” Spartacus answered before his stepfather could.
“It’s not about fixing something, son,” the man said, ignoring the boy.
“What is it, then?” Spartacus’s mother asked nervously, glancing at her husband.
“Men’s business, woman. Stay out of it,” he replied curtly.
She sighed, looking at her son. Spartacus lifted his eyes and slowly blinked, signaling her not to worry.
After dinner, they stepped outside. The stepfather sat on a bench by the gate; Spartacus stood before him, ready to listen.
“You still dreaming of getting out of here?” the older man asked.