I wondered if he was praying the guy would say no, like I was.
“Yeah. See that hallway there, your room is on the left.” Mike poked his cigarette in the other direction. “Bathroom right over there, but someone’s in it right now.”
“How many people live here?” I asked.
“Right now, six.”
“Six?” My jaw fell open as I glanced around again. There was no way this place was big enough for six people. “Where does everyone sleep?”
Mike shrugged. “Anywhere they can. Come on, I’ll show you the room.”
We followed Mike out of the kitchen and down the hall. As I walked, I felt something like sand crunching beneath my feet. Mike pushed open a door that looked like it had been kicked a lot, and entered the room. I stood behind Maxim in the doorway, peering over his shoulder.
It was tiny and cramped. It had one window facing a parking lot outside, a bare twin mattress on the floor, a beat-up dresser with sagging drawers. Every available surface was covered with dust and grime, and the mint green paint on the walls was peeling. My left eyelid started to twitch. Why the hell had I insisted on seeing this place?
“What’s that?” Maxim asked, pointing to a door opposite us.
“That goes to my room,” Mike said. “But don't worry, I'll try not to wake you up when I come and go.”
“Wait a minute.” I held up one hand. “You have to go through this room to get to your room?”
“Yeah,” Mike said, like it was no big deal. “It used to be the closet.” Then he pointed to the mattress, which was stained and lumpy. “That’s yours if you want it. The girl that lived in here before left it.” A roach scuttled across the floor and Mike stomped on it with his boot. “Fuck. I’ll get that cleaned up.” He shouldered by us, and lumbered down the hall.
Maxim moved into the room to look around while I struggled with my conscience. On one hand, Maxim wasn’t a puppy I needed to save—he was a grown man who was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. And bringing him home with me again was a bad idea for a good fucking reason. But could I really leave him in this bug-infested hellhole with its dirty floors and grungy couch and polluted air, a complete stranger marching through his bedroom multiple times a day, nothing but a stained mattress to sleep on? He didn’t even have any sheets! I shuddered at the thought of it.
“Maxim. You can’t stay here.”
“There’s no other option.” He eyed the peeling paint, the bare mattress.
“There’s always another option. You can stay with me until your savings get here.” Two days. I could handle that, right? “Will you be able to get a better place then?”
“I don’t think so. My savings aren’t huge, and I need to buy a laptop. I’d also like to save some money for screenwriting classes.” He shook his head and spoke with certainty. “You’ve done enough for me, Derek. I appreciate the offer, but this is what I can afford, so it’s where I’m going to live for now. I’ll be fine.”
Mike entered the room again, a wad of paper towels in his hand, which he used to wipe up the cockroach mess.
I exhaled, my eyes closing briefly. Just get out of here. He’s not your responsibility. He made the choice to move here impulsively, now let him deal with the consequences of his actions.
But I couldn’t make myself leave.
“So, what’s the deal? You staying or not?” Mike asked.
“Yes,” said Maxim.
“No.” I met his eyes, squaring my shoulders defiantly.
He squared his too. “Yes. Thank you for everything, Derek, but I don’t need your help.”
“I know you don’t. But you’re going to take it. Now let’s go.” I turned and strode as quickly as I could out of the apartment, through the lobby, and out the front door, gulping the fresh air.
Motherfucker.
What had I done?
Ten
MAXIM
I could have resisted. I almost did.
I’d come here knowing it would be a struggle. I wasn’t afraid of it. And I didn’t want Derek to think I couldn’t handle myself. Didn’t want him to feel like my problems were his problems. Didn’t want him to see me as someone who needed to be rescued, because I didn’t.
But hell if I didn’t follow him out of that apartment anyway. I justified it by telling myself only a fool would let his pride keep him trapped in that filthy place, but deep down, I knew better.
The truth was, I liked Derek. I liked the way he took control of a situation. I liked the sharp edges of his gravelly voice. I liked the look in his eye when he wanted something done his way, the one that said don’t fuck with me. And when I looked at his life, I saw someone who had done things right. He’d decided what he wanted, and he’d gone after it. I knew I could learn from him.
He was just outside the stairwell door when I caught up with him. “Hey,” I said. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I know I don’t.” He slipped his sunglasses on again. “What did you pay for that piece of shit mattress?”
“Four hundred dollars.”
“Get it back. For half that, I’ll rent you my guest room for two weeks.” He started walking toward the parking lot, and I followed.
“I’ll pay the full four hundred.” Accepting his generosity was one thing, but I wanted to do my part. My pride demanded it.
“You can’t afford it right now, Max. Trust me. I know what decent apartments cost here.”
“Then I’ll pay it back eventually,” I argued, only slightly distracted that he’d shortened my name. It suggested familiarity, closeness even. I liked it.
We reached the car and got in. “How much is in your savings?” he asked.
“About two thousand dollars.”
He looked at me. Blinked. “We need to find you a job.”
“Of course. I was planning on it.”
“You didn’t say that when I asked about a plan before.” His brow furrowed.
“Because if I did,” I admitted, “I might cause it not to happen.”
His expression grew even more puzzled, and then suspicious. “Is this a Russian thing?”
I almost smiled. “Yes.”
Exhaling, he turned on the engine. “At the risk of causing you bad juju or whatever, I’ll see if I can help you find something. Ellen might even have some work for you at the bar.”
“I’d love to work for Ellen. And I have some experience working at a bar.”
“Great,” he said, pulling into traffic. “Although you know how Ellen is. She claims to hire people based on their auras, not their resumes. How’s your aura?”
I laughed. “Pretty good, I think? Although I’m not really sure what an aura is, exactly.”
“Me neither.” He shook his head. “But somehow it’s worked out for her so far. The bar does well.”
“That’s wonderful.”
“It is. I’m happy for her. For a while, I was worried she’d never figure her life out. Name a profession and she’s probably wanted to be that at one point—astronaut, circus performer, veterinarian, ballerina, flight attendant. She’s always been all over the place. Totally opposite of me.”