by G. B. Gordon
He left his keys on the kitchen table, then, trying not to be a dick, scribbled, I’ll be careful not to jeopardize the mission; just need a bit of space, on a piece of printer paper, and shoved it underneath the keys.
He stubbornly refused to glance up the stairs again as he grabbed his gear and headed out to the car.
He didn’t have a plan about where he was going, but when he found himself on the familiar road to Port Angeles, he didn’t turn around. Tasha’s would have been the more obvious place to go to, but that was another discussion he didn’t need, another set of questions he didn’t have answers for. Plus, Tasha had Anna, and while Arkady wished them all the happiness in the world, he couldn’t bear being around a happy couple just now.
Suspended on the dark road, coming from nowhere, going nowhere, he wasn’t sure whether he’d woken up at all. Had he really left Jason’s house? Had he left Russia? What was real, and what was a dream? A light drizzle started to cover his windshield, giving the oncoming headlights a glaring halo. Blinding, straight in his face. He jerked the steering wheel to the right and hit the brakes, then stutter braking when the car started to skid. He didn’t crash, but having overcompensated to the right, ended up on the grassy shoulder of the road, destroying a few ferns and low bushes in the process. God, he was so tired. Of everything.
He woke up to the buzzing of his phone in his pocket. He tried to fish it out, but he was trapped.
Seat belt. What? He couldn’t get his brain in gear, but he did manage to unbuckle and fumble his phone out of his pocket.
“Da?”
“Where are you?” Jason asked.
Arkady flipped a mental switch to English, but that didn’t provide an answer. “Are you checking up on me?” he asked back, mainly to buy himself some time.
“Just making sure you’re not driving after getting plastered in some bar.”
“Why would I— You are checking up on me.”
There was a long pause on the other end, which gave Arkady a chance to check that he was in a car, and that it was dark outside. Had he been driving drunk?
“You didn’t have to leave the key,” Jason said.
With that Arkady’s brain fired back up, and he knew where he was. Well, roughly. The clock on his phone read 4:12. Jason must have just gotten up.
“Wasn’t sure whether you wanted me to hang on to it,” Arkady said. Fuck, he had no idea what he was expected to say, or where he was going from here.
“The wedding planner?” Jason said.
“Huh?” It was like they were in one of those pretentious, postmodern plays, where nothing made sense. “What about the wedding planner?”
“Grigory? Is that where you are?”
“The fuck? Why the hell would I be at a wedding planner’s? Are you on drugs?”
There was a brief silence, then Jason laughed. “Haven’t even had coffee yet. Be careful, okay?” With that he disconnected.
Slowly Arkady let his hand sink, then he sat staring at his phone screen. There was no way he was going to make sense of that conversation, was there? Had Jason’s laugh sounded relieved? And why would he want Arkady to keep the key? Oh, right, the mission—it’d look funny if Arkady rang the bell at the house he supposedly lived in; was that it?
Fuck, he so didn’t have any of the answers tonight. He knew only two things with certainty: leaving in the middle of the night had been a stupid idea, and leaving had been his only option.
With an exasperated headshake, he shoved the phone back into his pocket, then reached for the key in the ignition. He turned it with some trepidation, but the engine started without any problems. Thank God for small favors.
It was still dark by the time he pulled into the parking lot behind Vic’s, but dawn was creeping into the sky.
He waited until the coffee shop opened, then gave it another half hour, until there was a good breakfast crowd inside. The busier Vic was, the less time he’d have for chitchat and questions. He did actually give Arkady the raised-eyebrow treatment, but didn’t say anything beyond good morning when it was Arkady’s turn in the line to get his coffee and breakfast sandwich. Good thing it was one of the days he taught Maya, so at least he had that excuse, though it didn’t explain why he was showing up here first thing in the morning.
By the time Vic came over to his table around eleven, Arkady had read his way through half the papers lying around.
“Find something interesting?” Vic nodded at the paper.
“Murder, mayhem, the usual,” Arkady quipped. Then, to head off any deeper questions he added, “Also, I’m bored. What else is new?”
Vic wasn’t buying it, though. “Too bored for sleep?” He pulled up a chair. “I have prep to do before I open, I get up early.” With a nod toward the parking lot, he added. “Saw you pull in.”
Arkady shrugged. “Fidgets, I guess.”
Vic stared at him for what seemed like forever, before giving a brief nod and returning to work. Giving Arkady space he didn’t want but needed to keep.
Arkady spent the day like that, between coffee, and magazines, and Vic’s food, only leaving for a while when it was time for Maya’s lessons.
He left for good a few minutes before closing, so Vic wouldn’t think he had nowhere else to go. But then he sat undecided behind the wheel of his car. If he moved it to street parking, a cop was sure to find him sleeping in it, if he stayed here, Vic would know it. He pulled his phone out and started to search for motels, though he could ill afford the expense.
He was still checking when Vic knocked on his window. For a heartbeat Arkady was tempted to ignore him, then he rolled down the glass.
“Care to come up and share a beer with me?” Vic asked, then added before Arkady could say no, “Or do you prefer your solitary car-lot glory?”
Arkady huffed a laugh. He was trying to phrase a polite decline, when suddenly he couldn’t remember why. Because he could really use the comfort and support Vic was offering. It wasn’t the same as being surrounded by a large family, but it was closer than solitary glory.
Still . . . “No questions,” he growled as he got out of the car. “Just beer.”
Vic nodded. And he stuck to it, through three beers and beyond. Arkady relished simply having him around, the silent company of a sympathetic human being.
Finishing his beer, Vic said, “I’ve got to crash. Couch is yours, if you want it.”
He didn’t ask Arkady to decide, didn’t hang around for an answer.
After he’d left, Arkady checked his phone. Jason would be home by now, even with his extra shift. There was no message, though. Well, what had he expected? He tried to tell himself that it was better this way, easier, less painful. He’d left to get away from the pain. So, why then was there still pain, why the disappointment? It was over; this would be so much easier if his heart could just accept that and move on. Find someone else, someone without commitment issues. It wouldn’t be long now until he got his green card. That was the part he had to take on faith, because if he didn’t believe that, then everything would fall apart. He’d get his green card and move to Port Angeles. There had to be people who were looking to share rent, some arrangement where he didn’t need to put his name on a lease for the next two years. After that he could get a divorce. He’d find something, someone, a new life.
With that resolve firmly in mind, he attacked the newspapers again over coffee the next morning, this time, the ad section. Nothing jumped out at him, but it was too early anyway. He couldn’t share rent until he had a job, and he couldn’t get a job until he had his papers.
So he spent the day walking through Port Angeles, pretending he’d just moved here and was getting to know his new city. It wasn’t bad at all, though there didn’t seem to be a lot of cruising action. His phone mentioned one pickup bar, which was closed during the day, of course.
Arkady had dinner from a street cart, then a lonely beer at a pub. Hanging out at Vic’s again seemed like too much of a pity party, though he’d left
his car there, so Vic would know he was still around.
He went back to the gay bar about an hour after it opened, and while it wasn’t quite humming on a weeknight, it wasn’t empty either. His idea had been to have a drink and check things out in the process, but apparently that wasn’t how it worked.
The second he walked in, heads turned. Some turned away again, but there was a number of definite winks, inviting smiles, a glass raised in a silent toast. He wasn’t particularly shy about what he wanted, but he felt shy now. When he walked toward the bar, the grin of a man standing there suddenly seemed like a leer. It was followed by the crude invitation of a tongue flick. Kissing? That? Arkady’s brain helpfully supplied the memory of Jason’s slow, toe-curling kisses, and his stomach did a flip-flop. He almost hightailed it past the bar to throw up in the washroom, but beelining it there would look like he’d accepted the invite. With another dry heave, he turned on his heel and headed back out to the street, taking deep gulps of air as he walked, he didn’t know where.
God, he’d really thought he could just walk in there and fuck Jason Cooley out of his system, hadn’t he? Well, that had been spectacularly successful. A couple of passersby gave him a wide berth at his sudden humorless bark of laughter.
He needed to keep it together, but that unexpected flash of Jason’s kisses had opened floodgates he didn’t know how to close again. His chest, hell his whole skin, was too tight, every breath a painful drag, and there was a lump in his throat the size of Mother Russia. If he couldn’t do this, if he couldn’t walk away, what other option was there?
His phone buzzed. No. Nonono. He clamped a fist over his pocket and gritted his teeth, and after a while it stopped.
The street he’d turned into looked familiar; he’d circled back to Vic’s without conscious navigation. The café as well as the apartment above were dark, but Vic had left a note under his wiper that the couch was his until further notice. No questions.
He’d also left the back door unlocked. So, Arkady made his way upstairs in the dark and crashed on the couch again, eons farther away from a solution than he had been the night before.
Vic woke him up the next morning before heading downstairs. “Maya won’t be up for another hour,” he said. “Shower’s that way. You need it.”
Arkady nodded, no surprise there.
But Vic wasn’t done. “I’ve seen you guys together, Jason and you; I saw you at your wedding. And I can’t imagine a lot of reasons why you wouldn’t fight like hell to keep what you have. That’s not a question. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s your choice. But at least think about it.”
Arkady almost laughed. Like he’d done anything else these past seventy-two hours, the past weeks even. Maybe ever since he’d met Jason at the airport.
But all he said was, “Thanks.”
Vic was right: he didn’t want to talk about it. And what would he have said? That Vic was wrong? That Jason and Arkady had played them all? The small voice inside that whispered, What if he isn’t wrong? was hard to ignore, though. Hope was a tough little bitch to kill. He’d have to try harder. Because if Vic was right, if Jason did care, then why the fuck wouldn’t he just say so? He held all the cards.
Arkady headed to the shower, managed to avoid dousing himself with green apple shampoo at the last second, and came back to the buzzing of his phone.
His first thought was Jason, and he wanted to kick himself, because why would Jason call him? It was probably Tasha.
It was Jason. “Hey.”
The quiet, single-syllable rumble sent goose bumps skittering up Arkady’s arms. “Hey.”
“Just wanted to make sure you haven’t forgotten our appointment,” Jason said.
Arkady’s heart thudded one loud Fuck! against his ribs. “Course not,” he lied. The biometrics appointment. Tomorrow’s biometrics appointment. “What time do you want to leave? I can come and get you. No use taking two cars.” He was grateful for how smooth he was able to keep his voice. If one discounted the thudding heartbeat underneath, that was.
“We shouldn’t show up in different cars anyway,” Jason said immediately. “Are you at Natalya’s?” That sounded careful, as if he were expecting to be told to mind his own business.
“Right now? No, I’m at Vic’s. It’s one of Maya’s lesson days.” It wasn’t a lie, but why was he phrasing that as if he’d just gotten here? It was none of Jason’s business where he spent his nights, or stood half-naked in the living room with water dripping out of his hair. Especially since it wasn’t what Jason would be thinking at all.
Arkady became suddenly aware of the prolonged silence on the other end and added, “Why?”
“I thought, since we have to leave early tomorrow, you might want to crash here tonight, give you an hour or so more sleep than if you’d have to drive over in the morning.” Before Arkady could say anything, he added quickly, “Or I could pick you up.”
“No, it’s okay, I’ll be there. It does make sense to stay at your place.” It did, didn’t it? Arkady wasn’t just telling himself that because he didn’t want Jason to know where he was spending his nights? No, because that would not make any sense.
“I’ll leave the porch light on.” Jason paused as if he was going to say something else, but merely added, “See you tomorrow, then.”
And Arkady’s stupid heart did a double thud at that. Shut up!
He made it through the day on autopilot, his whole being focused on the evening, on returning to a place that wasn’t even home, no matter how many times he told himself to grow up, or how scathingly his inner voice poked fun at his baseless hopes. Nothing would happen—he would sleep on the couch, they’d drive to Seattle and back, and that was all there was to it. Hell, he didn’t want anything to happen. That was precisely why he’d left in the first place.
He was still arguing with himself when he pulled into the driveway behind Jason’s ancient Camry just after nine. Late enough not to have to kill an agonizing evening, but not so late that he’d be kicking Jason out of bed.
Arkady didn’t get a chance to ring the bell; Jason must’ve heard the car. He looked tired, even in the less-than-stellar light.
“You work too much.”
Jason opened his mouth as if to say something in return, but then shrugged and made room for Arkady to come inside.
The place looked exactly the same. You’ve been gone three days, hotshot. It felt much longer than that.
Jason had already pulled out the couch and put a sheet, pillow, and blanket on it. Arkady couldn’t decide if he was relieved or disappointed that there was no doubt about where he’d be sleeping tonight. God, he was messed up.
“Want a beer?” Jason asked.
“Naw, we’ll be up early. I think I’m just gonna crash.”
Again Jason looked as if he was going to comment, and again he shrugged and gave Arkady space.
“Good night, then,” he said over his shoulder, already halfway up the stairs.
“Good night.”
While Jason was in the bathroom, Arkady did a load of laundry, then went to brush his teeth, carefully listening for any potential doors opening, before he crawled under his blanket. There was no reason why he should, but he felt better than he had in days and was out like a light as soon as his head hit the pillow.
The next day they took the rental car, which was newer and more comfortable than Jason’s old Camry, and shared the driving. Jason drove down to Seattle, because he was used to being awake in the morning, and Arkady drove back.
Six hours in the car, and an hour of waiting for an appointment that had taken all of five minutes, and the silence between them had been deafening all day. They were almost home when, out of nowhere, halfway between Sequim and Port Angeles, Jason asked, “Want to stop in Port Angeles?” He had his eyes closed and his head against the backrest.
Arkady’d thought he was asleep. “I hadn’t planned on it, but I can if you want me to. Bathroom break?”
“No, I’m good.
That woman, Yelena? You think she’s hired someone else by now?”
Arkady threw a glance to his right, but Jason’s eyes were still closed. “Come again?”
“I know it’s a long shot, but since we’re here, and I already took the day off anyway . . .”
For a brief satisfying moment, Arkady wanted to tell him to go fuck himself. Then hope raised its shiny little head. Was this a peace offering? For what, Izmaylov? You haven’t been fighting.
Most likely Jason had simply had enough time to get over his stage fright. Or something had pissed him off enough at work to take desperate measures.
“I guess we’ll see,” was all Arkady said. He pulled up Vanin Enterprises on the GPS, because he usually came into town from the other side, and he didn’t feel like getting lost after all the driving they’d already done today.
He called Yelena on his mobile from the visitor parking spot in front of the building instead of walking in unannounced. A polite pretense at not barging in on her at the end of the work day. She was still in, though, and invited them upstairs.
Jason dug his aviator shades out of the glove compartment and hid his eyes behind them. In his black jeans and T-shirt, he looked dangerously competent, as if he could take on anyone and anything and waste them with a flick of his wrist.
Yelena’s office was on the fifth floor, but Jason chose the stairs over the elevator and had a peek into every hallway on their way up.
“You’re lucky,” Yelena said after Arkady had introduced them. “I was just about to leave.”