John is entrapped by him. “I’m cheerful in my left pinky nail.”
“Let me see.” Timo inspects John’s left pinky, and John’s eyes smile more than his lips. He tilts Timo’s chin up and kisses him strongly.
I just realize—Luka, he’s tucking his shirt into his pants. Nikolai looks between Katya and Luka. “Who wants to go first?”
Katya steps out of her dress, spandex shorts and a spaghetti-strap tank top underneath. Workout gear. Thora helps unclip her heels.
“You’re supposed to choose,” Katya tells Nik pointedly. “You said you wouldn’t go easy just because we’re family, and I’m the girl.”
My brows furrow at Luka.
He leans close and tries to explain quickly. “I promised Katya that I wouldn’t take Nik’s Saturday night bet until she did.”
That’s what they all call Nikolai’s performance: a bet. In a lot of ways it is a bet, but Nikolai almost never loses.
Nikolai tilts his head at Katya. “People also don’t usually come prepared.” He motions to her workout gear.
“I wasn’t going to flash the whole audience,” Katya says. “And you’re just worried I’m going to beat you, aren’t you?”
Nikolai almost smiles, and he doesn’t deflate her confidence. Instead he says, “I choose you.” He asks her something in Russian, and she replies back with a nod.
He backs up into the center. Kat follows suit, but she makes sure that Thora is protecting her dress.
A server carrying a tray of shots enters the red spotlight, and everyone starts cheering. I clap, the energy wild and heady. My phone buzzes in my wrist wallet.
I unzip and try to keep watching.
Before they reach for the shots, Nikolai addresses the crowd while speaking to Kat. “Tell me your name,” he says. “And speak loudly and clearly so everyone can hear.”
She raises her chin. “Katya.”
“Katya.” Nikolai is full of charm, his on stage demeanor commanding everyone’s attention so easily. “For everyone new, I’ll explain the game. I bet Katya that she can’t beat me in a handstand competition. Two-hands.”
Katya crosses her arms. “Easy enough.”
I squint at the bright screen of my phone.
Nikolai acknowledges the crowd again. “If you lose, I pierce or tattoo you, and I choose where and the design. If I lose, you can tattoo me. You choose where and whatever you like.”
Katya is grinning from ear-to-ear like she’s imagined those words and this moment forever. It must all be colloquial. Routine. What he says every Saturday night to random people and sometimes family members and friends.
I have something to tell you – Brenden
My lips part, unsure of where this is going. Kind of scared. I still don’t know what Luka and Brenden talked about, but I type back: what is it? After I press send, I try not to let my curiosity consume me.
Nikolai angles towards his sister. “Tattoo or piercing? Your choice.”
Katya thinks for a moment. She has a tattoo already, a cluster of little stars on her left shoulder blade. She told me that she got it inked last year at a shop with Luka and Timo.
“Piercing,” she decides.
Nikolai nods and downs three shots in a row. He’s been drinking all night, and Katya only takes one shot. Nikolai asks her something in Russian. I wish I knew what, and I must wear that on my face.
Luka whispers to me, “Nik asked her if she needs more time before they begin, and she says”—we watch her lips move and hear the Russian—“I’m ready now.”
They stand side-by-side, and after Nikolai counts to three, they place their hands on the floor and hoist their bodies into the air. Effortlessly.
Luka whistles with his fingers, and I clap while the crowds shout loudly.
“Kick his ass, Kat!” Timo yells.
“Go, Katya!” Thora cheers. “Go, Nikolai!” She’s rooting for everyone to win.
Luka shouts, “Beat him, Kat!” Another long whistle. I missed that noise. I feel my smile and press my fingers to my lips.
My phone vibrates in my other palm.
Luka told me that he loves you. Crazy, right? – Brenden
My mouth drops at Luka.
His face falls at me. “What’s wrong?” He sees my phone. “Is that your brother?”
“What were you two talking about?”
He licks his lips and leans close to say, “Sisters.”
I spin the phone screen at him, so many emotions tumbling through me. Should I be angry or upset? Should I not care? I don’t know at all. There’s no precedent for anything like this.
Luka blinks a couple times, trying to wrack his brain for what to say. “We were talking about you and Katya, I promise. I only let that slip.” He nods to the screen. “But…it changed nothing.”
It changed something.
It means I have to lie more to Brenden. It hurts again. I pass my phone in both hands, my eyes scald, and I end up typing quickly: yeah crazy.
I’m not sure he’ll believe me.
I wouldn’t believe me if our places were reversed.
A loud “awww” rings out, and our heads swerve to Katya, who fell to her knees. Nikolai stands on his feet and then helps her up. I zone out a little as Nik chooses her nose to pierce. I have a feeling he knew she’d want that place pierced anyway.
And yeah, he pierces her right now, right in the middle of the club. One of his cousins hands him a sterilized hollow needle, and a minute later she returns to our group with a glittering stud in her nose.
“Bay,” Luka says, trying to grab my hand.
I shift away. “I’m okay.” I just feel weird. Like a traitor to my family. Like maybe I should be with Brenden right now. Not here.
Not lying to my brother, who I love with all my heart. He’s been struggling with the new choreography changes for aerial straps, and I haven’t been around as much as I want to be.
I should back up, but I’m cemented to this place. My feet unmoving.
“Baylee.” Luka reaches out to touch my cheek, but Nikolai faces him.
Luka and I jerk away from each other on instinct, and I avoid Nikolai’s domineering and disapproving stare.
“I choose you,” Nikolai tells Luka and motions him forward.
He reluctantly and painfully tears away from me.
Act Thirty-Four
Luka Kotova
I can’t even keep an eye on Baylee in the crowd. Nik watches me so fixatedly that I worry he’s a fucking breath away from scolding me out loud.
Nikolai refrains from repeating the rules to the audience, and he asks me firmly, “Piercing or tattoo?”
“Tattoo.”
A server brings out shots of tequila. Nik and I clink glasses before downing two each, and the air tenses more. I don’t feel like he’s on my side when it comes to Bay.
He never has been.
“One-handed handstand,” he challenges me.
I nod, and he asks me if I’m okay in Russian. I just nod again. I don’t try to pick apart his expression. I don’t try to care about what he thinks of my irresponsibility and recklessness.
I go through the motions, and after he counts to three, I perform a one-handed handstand beside my brother.
(Don’t hold your breath. I never win at these types of competitions.)
Like clockwork, I fall after a few minutes. I barely hear the boos from Timo and Katya. While Nik gathers the tattoo equipment, I search the audience with my gaze.
She’s gone.
I sense it before I really confirm by sight.
She’s not here.
“Lift up your shirt,” Nikolai says, cutting into my trance.
I snap out of it and comply. I hear Timo say, “I bet a hundred bucks he inks a penis.”
“Deal,” Anton says.
“Good God, that’s a losing bet,” John says dryly.
Nikolai says under his breath to me, “I’m not inking a dick.”
“Thank you,” I say, wishing I could laugh at the absurdity, but my stomach is in knots.
“Stay still,” he instructs.
“Okay.” A chill runs down my spine. My body is screaming to run after her. Wherever she went, I want to be.
The tattoo gun buzzes, and Nik places the needle to my right ribs. “Be careful,” he says lowly, and I know he’s not talking about the ink.
He means Baylee. The contracts. The no minors policy. My own brother won’t rat me out, but he’ll caution until I stop.
“I am.”
Nikolai looks disbelieving.
So I rephrase, “I’m trying.”