We both raise our hands.
“No you haven’t,” Luka laughs again, and we’ve somehow unconsciously stepped towards one another. We’re only a few feet apart.
“I did. I swear.” I can’t stop smiling. Are we seriously bonding over Dimitri’s dick? We’re so bizarre. Weird. And I really love every second.
“He just whipped it out on you?” Luka questions, disbelieving and a little peeved, I think.
“He unabashedly let his towel drop in the locker room showers. I caught a glimpse in my peripheral.” I motion to my eyes.
Luka grins, shaking his head. “That doesn’t count.”
I think about this. “It counts somewhat.”
“Somewhat,” he agrees.
To Camila, I say, “Trust me, you don’t want to compliment Dimitri’s penis. He’ll think you’re into him, and since you have a guy…”
“Good to know,” she nods and then shouts again, “DIMITRI HAS A LITTLE WIENER!”
All the Kotova guys yell in unison, “LUKA!!”
Camila winces at him. “Sorry.”
Luka looks the furthest from bothered. “I don’t mind. I can keep your name a secret from my cousins; you never told me it anyway. No sweat.” His gaze sweeps me head-to-toe, the once-over heating every inch of me, and then he returns to the door.
Katya splays her dress on the chair. “We’ll be out soon.”
Luka checks his watch and then casts one last glance back at me, as though cataloging my emotional state. My lips inch up, but I wish he could stay longer.
Luka nods to me like we’ll be together soon.
At The Red Death.
He’s the only thing I’m looking forward to tonight. Otherwise, I’d probably just curl up in bed.
Act Thirty-Two
Luka Kotova
After I leave Kat’s bedroom and enter the living area, I’m swarmed and hounded by my cousins. All for answers about a girl who I’m pretty sure is Camila Ruiz.
Dimitri’s many brothers zealously push my arms, pat my shoulders, and ask, “Who was she?! Who said that?!”
Bay was right about me being disloyal and loyal. I choose my sides wisely, and I’m not snitching on those girls.
I pop a piece of gum in my mouth with a grin full of mischief. “Who?”
They all groan and hook their arms around my shoulder, rubbing my head roughly. I laugh and shove them off, and not long after, I slide past all their bodies and they start hollering at Anton who fiddles with the music.
The suite is crammed. Shot glasses, whiskey and vodka bottles scatter every surface, and Erik plus his little brother Abram and seven other cousins carry a poorly wrapped present through the suite door. It looks heavy and about five-feet tall.
I have no clue what they bought for Kat, but she’s going to hate it. Like every year, they’re all looking forward to her huff and eye-roll.
I pick up a fallen trashcan, and as I pass Nik by the bar counter, I slap his ass. No reaction. He downs a shot of liquor and refills another.
He’s more uptight than usual. And that’s saying something.
Thing is, I know what’s on his mind. Thora. The pregnancy. (Corporate being complete dicks.) I keep an eye on Nik and spit out my gum. I weave through bodies in the small kitchen space and find a bag of bite-sized pretzels.
Returning to my brother’s side, I offer some, and after a reluctant pause, he fits his hand in the bag and eats.
“You okay?” I ask.
He fills another shot while he pops a pretzel in his mouth. “I’ve been better.”
I don’t want to pile more onto his shoulders, but if I don’t warn him, he may upset Katya. “One of the girls did Kat’s makeup,” I say.
He slides me his shot and then fills another.
“She looks like she’s in her twenties, and you know you can’t tell her to wash it off. She’s seventeen.”
Nikolai is rigid, but then he nods, accepting this before his shocked-self says something he’ll come to regret. Like go wash your face, Katya. “Most of us will keep an eye on her tonight.”
I figured as much. We raise our shots, clink them together, and down them in unison. When we turn to face the couches, I spot Sergei by the floor-length window. Nighttime, the Vegas lights sparkle in the distance, and Sergei laughs with Matvei about something on their phones.
I hear his truth about choosing his career over us. Repeatedly on blast in my ears.
I didn’t even hesitate.
I didn’t even hesitate.
I’m not angry. Because I’m standing beside the selfless brother who thought about us in his choice. Who asked for nothing in return. I have Nikolai when I could’ve easily had no one.
I lean my head towards Nik. “For what it’s worth,” I say, “I’m glad you were the one who chose us.”
Nikolai isn’t surprised. “Because you dislike Serg.”
“Because I love you.”
He rests his hand on the back of my head, one gesture that says he feels the same about me. And I hear him breathe deeply, “It’s worth a lot.”
*
While the girls finish getting dressed, Timo and I guard Katya and Bay’s bedroom door. Just so our cousins stop banging on the wood and screeching, “Who’s in there?!”
In front of the door, we dance to a popular song, and I fit on my baseball cap backwards. Timo pushes up his gold Venetian mask to his head, twirling a scepter in his hand, and we both sing somewhat off-key. Our voices aren’t that great, but we don’t hold back.
Most of our cousins are playing beer pong, and Robby hands Timo a bottle of Fireball. My brother takes a swig, passes it to me; I take a swig, and then crack open the door and stick my arm through.
Baylee grabs the Fireball out of my hand. Just by touch, I can tell it’s her. Our fingers hook for a second longer, before we have to let go. “Thanks,” she says. I picture her smiling, and it’s enough to make my lips upturn.
“Cool brother!” Camila calls out, not loud enough for everyone else to hear.
They shut the door.
Timo grabs hold of my shoulder, shakes me to the beat, and I feel happy. Which scares me more than usual. Every time I capture this kind of light, it sputters out and turns impossibly bleak.
No one says the truth. That at the end of every good moment, there’s a bad one waiting.
Timo senses my slight change in demeanor. His feet fall flat, and he tosses me the scepter as he asks, “What’s on your mind, brother?”
I pass the gold staff between my hands. Nikolai gifted him the scepter for his sixteenth birthday. “I just have a bad feeling.”
I haven’t really felt this way since the three of us were little kids. And one of the worst things happened…
(Don’t make me say it. I can’t touch it. I’m sorry.)
“About what?” Timo asks, his features still endlessly bright despite cradling worry.
I spin my hat but keep the rim backwards. “I don’t know. It’s probably nothing.”
Timo bites his thumbnail, and I toss the scepter back. He grabs hold, and close enough to whisper, he quietly asks, “Can I tell you something? I’ve been keeping it in, and it’s starting to get to me.”
“Yeah.”
“Katya thinks you’re in love with Baylee. That you’ve been in love with her for years, and honestly, I think she’s onto something here.”
I open my mouth to deny on impulse, but he keeps talking fast, knowing I’d shut this conversation down early on.
“I mean, we all skirt around some stuff, but you refused to say her name like you were told not to—”
“Dude, stop—”
“There you go, clear as day.” He shakes his head like he should’ve confronted me sooner. “I just don’t understand what the big deal is? Hey Jude, you love her, now go and get her.” He points his scepter at the door beside us.
I try not to laugh. “It’s not that…” simple. My smile vanishes in one instant. With one thought: the contracts. The no minors policy.
Timo twirls the scepter, his eyes still twinkling. “You’re hiding something.”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Okay truth,” he says so quietly that only I could hear over the music. Then he leans against the door, and I lean beside him. Timo swings his head to me. “I’ve never believed that you got into cocaine. Not even on a spur of the moment. It’d make you feel…”