Amy sighed, centering herself on her chair, her body slouched. “Figures. I knew you were too good looking to be straight.” She picked up her wine glass and took a long, long drink. “Sorry if I bothered you.”
I smiled. “You didn’t. It’s okay.”
“Somehow I always pick out the gay ones. It’s like a curse.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. “Um. I’m sorry?”
She sighed and shook her head. “Anyway, welcome to America. Cheers.” She held up her wine glass. “Hey, how do you say cheers in Russian?”
“Na zdorovie.”
She blinked. “Yeah, I’m not gonna attempt it.” But she clinked her glass against my bottle, and we both drank as Ellen appeared with a plate heaped with food—a thick, juicy hamburger and French fries.
My mouth watered. “That looks delicious.”
“It is,” she said confidently. “And I wasn’t able to find a charger yet, but I’m still looking.”
I picked up the notebook, sticking the photo of Liliya back inside the pages, so she could set the plate down in front of me. “Thank you so much. I can’t believe I—”
I stopped speaking and looked down by my feet, where I was reaching around for my bag but felt nothing.
It was gone.
“Again, I’m so sorry. Nothing like this has ever happened here before.” Ellen leaned over the bar and touched my arm. She was the bar owner and felt personally responsible for the theft—she’d apologized a thousand times, even breaking down in tears. “I feel sick about it.”
“It’s not your fault,” I told her. “It was very crowded. Even I didn’t see it happen, and it was right at my feet.”
The police officer who’d responded to her frantic call had asked everyone in the bar if they’d seen anyone leave with the bag, or anything suspicious at all, but no one had. He’d been nice, but hadn’t seemed too hopeful that my bag would be found.
At least I still had my passport. Thankfully, I’d stuck it in my coat pocket rather than back in my bag after showing it to Ellen. Replacing it in the U.S. would have been a nightmare. My biggest problem was that my wallet had been in my bag, so my cash and my bank card were gone. Now buying a hotel room for tonight wasn’t even an option. Neither was paying for my food and drink, not that I’d gotten to eat anything. And I was starving. But what could I do?
“God, you’re so nice. I feel like any other guy would be freaking out.”
“Wouldn’t do me much good.”
“But what will you do tonight?” Her brown eyes were wide and sad. “Where will you go?”
I shrugged. “I’ll find somewhere.”
Ellen threw her hands in the air, her voice rising in anguish. “How? You don’t even know anyone here! And someone took your wallet, so you have no money!”
“I’ll be okay. Really. I just have to charge my phone so I can find my friend.” I tried to sound more confident than I felt.
A determined look replaced Ellen’s tortured expression. “You know what? I’m going to help you. I believe in fate, and there must be a reason why you came in here tonight and all this happened.”
I shook my head. “I believe in fate too, but this was probably just random bad luck.”
She flattened both palms on the bar. “Nope. Nothing is random. Now it’s getting late, and I can see how exhausted you are, so I’m going to find you a place to stay and charge your phone tonight. And then tomorrow, I’ll help you find your friend.”
“That’s not necessary,” I protested, stifling a yawn.
“Maxim. Look at you. You’re about to fall over, you’re so tired. And my mind is made up.” Ellen nodded once, and her tone told me she wouldn’t be argued with. “I’ll be right back, I just have to make a phone call. You wait here.” She brought me another Corona before disappearing through the kitchen door, leaving me to wonder who on earth she was going to call.
Three
DEREK
Of course my sister needed a favor. Did she ever call me when she didn’t?
“I’m not fostering another rescue puppy, Ellen. I’m still trying to get the stains out from the last one I took in.”
“It’s not a puppy this time.” She lowered her voice. “It’s a person.”
“A person?” I propped myself up on one elbow. “What kind of person?”
“A Russian person.”
I frowned. “Ellen, what the hell? Is this another one of your friends from circus school?”
“I told you, it’s not circus school. It’s aerial arts class. And anyway, no, he’s not from there. He was a customer whose bag was stolen while he was sitting at the bar tonight.”
“His bag?”
“Like his carry-on bag. He’d literally just gotten off the plane from Moscow a few hours earlier. And the friend who was supposed to pick him up at the airport didn’t show.”
“How’d he end up at the bar?”
“He got in a cab and told the driver to take him someplace downtown. The driver brought him here. It was fate!”
I ignored that. Ellen was always droning on about fate and stars and mystical crap. “And then his bag was stolen?”
“Yes. Right under everyone’s noses while he was sitting at the bar. And no one saw a thing.”
“Yeah, those guys are good. Probably saw him get out of a cab with a bag and pegged him as a tourist. Easy mark. You call the police?”
“Yes. They came and made a report, but they don’t think they’ll find it. And the poor guy was so nice about it. But now he’s stranded here with nothing because someone at my bar stole everything he had. I feel responsible! I have to help him!”
I rolled my eyes. Ellen never saw a stray puppy or wounded bird or kitten up a tree she didn’t want to rescue. She’d been like that all her life. I didn’t fault her for having a big heart, but she had so much going on and so many roommates, somehow I always ended up with random animals at my house until she figured out where to take them.
“First of all, El, it’s not your fault. It could have happened anywhere.”
“But it didn’t. It happened right here.”
I ignored her stubborn tone. “Second, why is he your responsibility? Where’s his friend?”
“He doesn’t know.”
“Can’t he call him?”
“His phone is dead.”
“So charge it.” For fuck’s sake. My sister was thirty. Why did it feel like I was talking to a first grader?
“He forgot his charger in Moscow. And I can’t find one here.”
“Oh, Jesus.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache coming on.
“Please, Derek. It’s only for one night. And you have an extra bedroom and bathroom at your house.”
“What about your house?”
“Come on, I’ve got three roommates. And one of them has her brother visiting, so he’s taking up the couch. You live all alone in that nice big house.”
It probably wasn’t a dig at me, but it sort of felt like one.
“I bet that extra bedroom is all made up already, isn’t it?” Ellen went on. “Clean sheets on the bed, no dust on the furniture, no throw pillows out of place. I bet even the bathroom is sparkling clean and has big, fluffy towels all folded up and ready to go.”
“You know, making fun of me isn’t the best way to get what you want.”
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. But it’s true, right?”
“It’s true,” I admitted through clenched teeth.
“Then can you please come get him and take him home for the night? Just one night, I promise.”
“Wait a minute, I have to come and get him, too? Are you serious?”
“Well, yes. I can’t just put him in a cab. He doesn’t have any money. And you’re not that far. Please, big brother. Pleeeease? For me?”
I groaned in agony, because I knew the exact face she was making right now. It never failed to pierce my armor.
She laughed. “Thank you. You’re the best.”
�
��I didn’t say yes.” But I sat up and tossed the covers off.
“I know you. You can’t say no to me.”
“Fine. I’ll come get him, and he can stay here tonight. But he better not stain anything.”
“He’s very clean, I promise. But you might have to lend him some pajamas or something.”
I got out of bed and headed for my closet. “Christ, Ellen. Do you want me to tuck him in, too? Sing him a lullaby?”
“What? No! You know you’re a terrible singer. I’d never subject anyone to that.”
Switching on the closet light, I grabbed the jeans and shirt I’d had on earlier. “Remind me how mean you are next time I’m trying to say no to you.”
“No way. But I love you. See you in a few.”
I ended the call, set my phone aside and got dressed. From my dresser drawer I grabbed a clean pair of socks, and sat on the bed to tug them on. Then I turned off the light and went downstairs, where I stepped into one of several pairs of sneakers lined up in the hall near the back door and grabbed my keys. For a second, I paused and imagined other shoes lined up there too. A little girl’s sandals. A little boy’s cleats. Or maybe two little pairs of Adidas like their dad’s.
Which was so stupid. Even if I hadn’t fucked it up with my ex and we’d gotten married, we’d probably only have one kid by now, and it wouldn’t even be out of diapers yet.
But still. I’d be a husband. A father. I’d have a family to raise. People who needed me and depended on me and loved me unconditionally, the way I loved them. Was there anything less complicated than the love between parent and child?
Stop it. You’re being ridiculous, and the longer you stand here feeling sorry for yourself, the longer it will be before you’re back in bed.
After checking to make sure I had my phone on me and my wallet in my pocket, I went out the back door and pulled it shut behind me.
On the drive to the bar, I realized I hadn’t double-checked the spare room to make sure it was properly made up, but I wasn’t really worried. I always kept it guest-ready just in case, and the hallway bathroom had been cleaned two days ago. My friends laughed at me for having a cleaning lady come every week, especially the friends who were married with kids, because how could there possibly be any dirt in the house when there was only one person living there, and that person was the most fastidious man on earth? Their houses were always a mess—stuff everywhere, as if someone had turned them upside down and shaken them like snow globes. Actually, Ellen’s house was like that too, and her car—oh my God, the amount of shit in her car was enough to spike my blood pressure every time I rode in it. Sometimes I wondered how we were related. Her entire life was like a bunch of loose ends scattered every which way, and mine was like a nice, neat line.
At a stoplight, I glanced into the back seat of my car, pleased to see absolutely nothing there. Nothing in the passenger seat either, and no old coffee cups or water bottles in the cup holders. No crumbs or napkins or stray French fries. It even smelled good. People who rode in my car said that all the time.
Wasn’t that a good thing? Weren’t you supposed to take good care of your house and your car and other things you’d paid a lot of money for? Ellen had dipped into her trust fund a million times, but I hadn’t touched mine after paying for school. I’d worked hard for everything I owned, and I wanted them to last. Besides that, appearances mattered. People judged you by them.
And what else did I have?
I parked in a downtown structure and made my way to The Blind Pig. A few people were coming out as I was coming in, and I held the door open for them before moving through it.
Ellen spotted me right away. “Hey!” She came around the bar, rushing up to kiss my cheek before grabbing me in a bear hug. “Thanks so much for this. You smell good, by the way.”
“Trying to flatter me?”
“Yes. But it’s also true.” Laughing, she let me go and glanced over her shoulder. “He’s sitting over there at the bar. I feel so bad for him.”
“And what’s your Russian orphan’s name?”
“Maxim Matveev,” she said with a thick accent.
“Wait, does he speak English?” For a moment, I panicked that I was stuck with someone who wouldn’t understand anything I said. My Russian vocabulary was sparse, to say the least. Da. Nyet. Vodka. I also knew perestroika thanks to a college history class, but I thought that might be a little difficult to work into a conversation.
“Yes. Don’t worry, you can tell him to wipe his feet and close the lid and hang up his towel in English, and he’ll totally understand.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Be nice. I think he feels weird about accepting the offer. He keeps trying to tell me this is ridiculous.”
“It is.”
She gave me The Face, and I sighed.
“Come on. Introduce me.”
She took me by the hand and pulled me through the crowd toward the bar.
I saw him first from behind. At least, I thought it was him—he was the only person sitting alone. Light short hair. Slender, muscular build. He sat up tall, his back straight.
Ellen touched his shoulder. “Maxim, this is my brother, Derek.”
He turned to face us, and even in the bar’s dim light, his eyes were a startling shade of blue. He looked younger than I’d expected, and somehow less Russian. I don’t know what I was expecting—Boris Yeltsin, maybe?—but not the tall, trim blond guy who stood up and offered his hand. Not the cobalt eyes. Not the sharp-angled jawline.
I wasn’t expecting him at all.
I wasn’t expecting any of it.
Four
MAXIM
I was a little in shock.
This man was Ellen’s brother?
She’d told me he was thirty-six, not married, and not to worry if he came off a little gruff at first.
She’d failed to mention he was fucking gorgeous.
“Hey,” he said. “Nice to meet you.”
He offered his hand, and I met it with mine. His grip was perfect—warm and strong and just long enough.
“So I hear you’ve had some back luck.” His voice was deep and a little gravelly. It did something to me. Something that made it difficult to look him in the eye.
I forgot my entire English.
Ellen came to my rescue. “He can tell you the whole story later—poor thing has to be exhausted by now. But tomorrow we’re going to fix everything. All he needs tonight is a place to stay.”
“No problem,” Derek said. I liked the way he stood, with his feet wide apart and his arms crossed over his chest. He looked strong and confident. The kind of guy who made no apologies for himself. Who took initiative and got things done. I liked it so much I forgot to argue that he didn’t have to take me in for the night.
Ellen punched him on the shoulder. “You’re the best, brother. Biggest sweetheart ever.”
“Biggest pushover ever,” he grumbled.
“That too. Now be nice to him,” she said, shaking one finger at her brother. She turned to me. “Maxim, I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Don’t worry about a thing. Get some rest.” She gave me a quick hug, and when she let me go, I finally found my voice.
“Thank you so much, both of you. I’m sorry to be a bother.”
“No bother,” he said, and he seemed to mean it. “Ready to go?”
I nodded, grabbing my notebook with the picture of Liliya in it off the bar, then I followed him through the crowd and out the door. I didn’t know if it was the jet lag or the theft or the alcohol on an empty stomach or the surprise gut punch of being attracted to Ellen’s older brother, but something had me feeling a little off balance.
Come on, Maxim. Pull yourself together.
At the end of the block, we stopped at an intersection, waiting for a green light so we could cross the street. I took a few deep breaths, hoping the cool night air might clear my head a little.
“So.” Derek glanced at me. “You’re a long way from home.”
&nb
sp; “Yes,” I answered. It seemed like he was waiting for me to go on, but my tongue felt tied in knots. The right words weren’t coming to me.
The light changed and we crossed the street, walking side by side now. “I’m parked in the structure. Third floor.”
I followed him up two flights of stairs and over to a shiny black Range Rover. Even his car is beautiful. He unlocked the doors and I climbed into the passenger seat. The inside was as spotless as the outside. I wanted to compliment him on it, but all I could do was stare at his hands as he buckled his seatbelt.
Then my stomach growled—one long, loud, ferocious groan.
Our eyes met, and Derek’s expression was amused. “Are you hungry?”
“Uh. Yes.” I laughed uneasily.
“When was the last time you ate?”
I had to think about it. “On the plane. The first one.”
He nodded and started the car. “No wonder. Let’s get you some food.”
“You don’t have to worry about it.” He was already putting me up for the night. I didn’t want him to have to feed me, too. “I’m fine.”
“That sounded like a fucking German Shepherd in your stomach, Maxim. You need food. Don’t argue.”
I liked the way he said my name—it put me at ease. And besides, my mother had taught me it was rude and offensive to turn down offers of food and drinks. “Okay. Thanks.”
We circled down to street level and exited the garage. As we drove through downtown, I momentarily forgot my hunger and stared out the window like a mesmerized child. We passed one old movie theater after another, and I craned my neck to keep looking at the signs. “This street is incredible. What is this?”
“It’s the old Broadway Theater District,” said Derek. “It does have some really cool architecture from the twenties, although not all of these buildings are theaters anymore.”
“It looks exactly like what I pictured when I imagined California as a kid.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yes. My mother is obsessed with Hollywood musicals, so my sister and I grew up watching them.”
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