Which was weirdly disappointing. Sergei liked the sex he had with Dom. Much as he was loathe to admit it, he liked Dom. Which he shouldn’t. But he did. And what the fuck was—
His phone buzzed, shaking him out of his thoughts. When he picked it up, he had a text from Katashi.
Got what you asked for.
Sergei exhaled. Finally.
They made arrangements to meet, and Sergei headed out, getting on the 103 and following the winding highway toward the mile marker where Katashi said he’d be. The persistent soreness in his knees and shoulders made driving more of a chore than usual, particularly as he maneuvered around the bends and curves, but he pushed through. By now, he felt like he did after spending too much time onstage at the club—achy, annoyed, but not nearly as miserable as he’d been last night. And he just tried not to think about how much it was going to suck to get back on the stage this evening.
Sergei neared the designated mile marker, out where Sergei’s memories smelled like blood and the backseat of his parents’ old station wagon, and slowed down. As always, there was no one around except for Katashi, so he parked behind his supplier’s car and killed the engine. When he stepped out of his car in the shade of some evergreens, the whole world was silent.
Katashi got out and grinned, a metal box in his hand. He put the box on the trunk lid, entered the combination, and popped the latches. “Took some doing, but he got it for you.” He opened the box and pulled a pair of small bottles free. “It’s going to be tough to get more of this, though.”
“That won’t be a problem.” Sergei took one of the bottles and turned it in his hand, watching the fine powder tumble against the inside.
“He said to use these for mixing.” Katashi put a tiny measuring spoon on the trunk lid, and beside it, an empty bottle with a spray attachment. “That’s what you’ll use to deploy it.”
“Did he give me a conversion chart?”
Katashi produce a sealed envelope. “Precise instructions based on the mark’s body weight.”
“Excellent.”
“Be careful with this shit.” Katashi eyed the assembly warily. “Spray it outside, and the wind’s liable to blow it into your face.”
“That won’t be a problem.”
“I’m serious, kid. One whiff of that and—”
“You don’t think I know that?” Sergei turned to him. “I wanted it for a reason. I know what I’m dealing with here.”
Katashi put up his hands. “Easy, man. Just saying. Be careful.”
“Duly noted,” Sergei said through his teeth. He held up the vial, and eyed Katashi. “You’re sure this shit works?”
His supplier nodded vigorously. “This guy’s good, man. If he says it works, it works.”
“And you remember our deal if it doesn’t work?”
Katashi gulped. “Yeah, man. I remember.”
“I fucking hope so.” He pocketed the bottle and the other paraphernalia and pulled a wad of hundreds out of his wallet. “It’s all there.”
Katashi thumbed through it. “Yep. We’re good. You need anything else?”
“Not at the moment. But we might be in touch soon.”
“You know where to find me.”
*
“Good morning, Sergei.” Brittany looked up from pushing a small cart down the hall, and she smiled brightly at him. “It’s nice to see you.”
“You too.” He slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “How is she doing?”
The smile didn’t quite hold up, though she sure tried to keep it alive. Glancing down the hall, Brittany said, “She’s a little less… here today.”
Sergei winced. “Thanks for the heads up.”
Brittany faced him again. “How are you doing?”
“I’m all right.” He shrugged. “I should, um…” Clearing his throat, he gestured at Mama’s room. “Do you have her pills?”
“Oh! Yes. Sorry.” She scanned the tray of meds on the cart, and picked up one of the little paper cups. “Here you go, sweetie.”
“Thanks.” He took the cup, and they exchanged smiles before continuing down the hall in opposite directions.
Outside the door, as he always did, he took a few seconds to steel himself. Then he put on a smile and went inside.
Mama was by the window as she often was. As he shut the door, she looked up, and she stared blankly at him. “Hello,” she said in English.
Well. Good thing Brittany had warned him. The days when there wasn’t the slightest flicker of recognition, not even to mistake him for his brother, were the worst.
Also in English, he quietly said, “Hi.” He gestured at the chair beside hers. “Do you mind if I sit down?”
Mama looked at the chair. For a moment, she didn’t even seem to understand what it was for, or where it had come from. Then she looked up at him. “All right.”
He put the pills on the table between them and sat down in the familiar chair while she watched him like she’d never seen him before.
She glanced at the pills. “Are you a nurse?”
“No, I’m…” He swallowed. “No. I’m not.”
“Oh. I see.” Confusion pulled at her features. Though she didn’t say it, the “Why are you here?” was unmistakable.
“You seemed lonely.” And I miss you. “Like you could use some company.”
“Oh. Well yes.” She smiled a little. “It does get lonely here sometimes.”