Camila sees me nearing. “Hey, cool brother.”
I nod to her in reply, eating the last of my patty that’s stuffed full of beef. I can definitely imagine Bay melting in heaven when she took a bite of hers.
Craig looks irritated. “Let’s go, Camila. I don’t want to be here all night.”
Camila sighs lightly, and she smiles at Dimtiri. “See you Saturday.”
“See you, princess.”
They are really friends. Been that way since the summer.
Brenden looks to me as we walk. “I meant to ask you. Did you ever figure out why you were put in Infini with Bay?”
“No clue.”
“Little Kotova,” Dimitri says as we reach the door. Craig and Camila already disappeared inside the ballroom.
“What?”
He cocks his head, and I figure out that he just heard Brenden.
“Do you know why I was put in Infini?” I sway back, surprised. Has he known this whole fucking time?
“Have you ever asked Sergei about himself? Not if he’s a titty or ass guy or likes to rub it out in bed or the shower.” Only Dimitri has to clarify that he’s not talking about body parts or sex. “His hobbies. His interests.”
“I…” (No, I haven’t.)
Dimitri pats my shoulder. “Start there.”
Act Fifty-One
Luka Kotova
I beeline for Sergei in the ballroom, skirting past clustered groups of people and ten-foot fir trees. My brain churns through weeks, months, nearly a year with Sergei—and I still can’t comprehend why he’d have this answer that’s always eluded me and Bay.
I round a mammoth tree, and by a dove ice sculpture, I find Timo, Sergei, and Nikolai in mid-conversation.
“…mountain vaca, beach vaca.” Timo uses his palms as mock scales, and the beach vacation is higher.
“I miss the Swiss Alps,” Sergei says, eggnog in hand. I skim him. He wears all black. Black slacks, black belt, black button-down, black leather bracelets—I feel like I’m missing the smallest, tiniest detail.
“If it’s not in driving distance, it’ll cost a fortune,” Nik states.
Timo catches sight of me. “Luka, beach or mountains for the Great Kotova Road Trip?”
I rake a hand through my hair. “I don’t mi…” Timo is mouthing beach, beach, beach repeatedly. So I say, “Beach.” I open my mouth to cut in and ask Sergei, but Timo is like lightning. Speeding ahead and whiplashing my train of thought.
“I second the beach.” Timo raises a palm like he’s taking an oath. “Kat will third, and now it’s three to one. Beach wins.” Timo makes a cha-ching motion.
“What about Nik’s vote?” Sergei asks.
“Nik’s not invited.” Timo beams as he says it.
Nikolai rolls his eyes, but his lips curve upward.
“It won’t stop him from tagging along,” Timo says. “You may not know this now, Serg. But you’ll come to find that Nikolai has an obsession with following me around.” Serg.
As soon as Timo says his nickname, Sergei’s face lights up. It’s taken almost the whole year, but they’re finally on good terms.
Sometimes all it takes is time. Sometimes it takes more than that.
Nikolai interjects, “If you told us where you were going, no one would need to follow you.”
“Don’t let him fool you,” Timo tells our oldest brother. “His favorite game is Where In The World Is Carmen Sandiego? – Timofei Kotova Edition.”
Nikolai shakes his head, his charismatic eyes smiling, and Sergei laughs.
I butt in, “Sergei, can I talk to you?” I motion towards the window. In the corner. Away from family, from most of the artists.
“Yeah.” Sergei looks to Nik, who’s suddenly stone-faced, letting no emotion pass.
Nik shakes his head once in reply. He wouldn’t know what this is about. I haven’t even told Baylee yet.
Timo tries to capture my gaze, but I avoid. I’d rather not spin this into a huge family discussion.
Half a minute later, Sergei and I reach the semi-private corner, and he sets his eggnog on the windowsill.
“Will you be honest with me, please?” I start off.
“From the start, I’m the one who said honesty is important,” he says. “I’ve been honest with you.”
I blink quickly, thinking. How did he get Geoffrey to return the tempo of our act’s music to the original? That has always bugged me. And what Dimitri just said…
“Luka,” Sergei says. “Just ask me outright. I’ll answer.”
Is it me? I haven’t asked him anything personal. Not one thing. I’ve empathized with him, but I never reached out and reconnected with my brother. Not beyond work.
Sergei twists his bracelets, anxious. “You realize I’m not Nikolai? I’m not going to assume what you’re thinking by reading your body language.” Yeah, Nik is really good at that.
I stuff my hands in my slack’s pockets, and my fingers touch a pack of Skittles. “Do you know why Marc Duval would risk putting me in Infini with Baylee?”
Sergei’s expression morphs from somewhat worried to amused.
I raise my shoulders. “I’m missing the joke here, dude.”
He rests his elbow on the windowsill. “I tried texting, emailing—talking with you at the start of the show. You could’ve had this answer back then. It’s funny.” He tilts his head from side to side, reconsidering that word. “In a sad way.”
(That’s my life. Funny but sad.) “Yeah, well…” I run my fingers through my hair and gesture to him. “I’m asking now, and it’s not like we were ever close when our family was together.”
Sergei nods, knowing that age separated us. Growing up, he was like the untouchable brother to me. The oldest, the strongest, the fittest—I made him into this humongous, godly figure. Intimidating, more so than Nik, who’s already hard to confront at times.
Timo could reach anyone, anything, but not me—I just hung back. It’s why I can’t recall that many memories with just Sergei and me. I don’t know if any exist before Infini.
“I was told,” Sergei explains, “that Wheel of Death needed to return to Infini. Marc believed that removing that act was the reason Infini’s sales were down.”
I don’t ask why the act was removed in the first place. When Timo joined the cast of Amour, they had to erase Wheel of Death off Infini’s program. It was his discipline before it ever became mine.
“There are only a few Kotovas who’ve mastered the discipline.” Sergei is one of them. “I didn’t ask to join Infini. I was told to.” He pauses. “But I did ask who my partner would be.”
“Who was it?” I just know—it couldn’t have been me.
“A cousin I’d never met.” His gaze drifts to the window, Vegas lit up in an array of neon colors tonight and every night.
“Why me then?”
Why am I standing in front of Sergei and not a no-named cousin?
“I wanted to be paired with a brother.” His softened gaze meets mine. “And not just any brother. I wanted to be paired with you.”
I let out a laugh. “You’re joking.” When I see that he’s not, I say, “Peter would’ve been better. Nik, Timo. If they were available—”
“I would’ve still chosen you,” he emphasizes. “For some reason or another, we were never in a single act together growing up. I was never able to perform side-by-side on a stage with you, Luka. I’ve worked closely with Timo, with Nik, with Peter—but not you. And my best memories are coaching my brothers.”
Coaching. Because he’s the oldest. The know-it-all.
He has been coaching me.
Bettering me, enhancing my skills at this discipline from the jumpstart.
My carriage elevates in a big breath, but I can’t wrap my head around another loose thread. “How could you ever ask for me and get me? Corporate listens to money and these strict contracts, not us. Not what we want.”
“I told Marc over coffee that if Wheel of Death seemed that important for Infini, I needed to be in it, and that I wouldn’t go if you weren’t my partner.”
I rock back. “You gave Marc Duval an ultimatum?”
“It wasn’t that harsh.” He laughs. “We were talking about everything. Music, movies, family, and when the topic of Infini and contract renewals came up, it was casual…” He laughs harder, probably at my befuddled expression.