Whiskey Sharp_Unraveled

by Lauren Dane

  He followed the noise to the huge kitchen and attached dining room. The heart of the house and the place he most often found his family gathered. The sideboard already held food but he knew there’d be way more coming.

  Loud calls of welcome sounded as he and Cris were noticed and his aunt paused for a kiss as she passed by. He dropped off some booze and a few tins of the tea his uncle favored and poked around a little in the different pots and pans to see what was for dinner.

  Fish with mushrooms, pork chops of some sort, cabbage rolls, rice and vegetables, his aunt went all out to welcome her sister to her home.

  Polina had Seth on the hot seat near the sliding glass doors leading to the backyard. He appeared uncomfortable but not offended or upset. She caught sight of Alexsei and dismissed Seth, who tipped his chin in greeting and got out while he could.

  Smart man.

  “Mama.” Alexsei kissed both cheeks. “You look pretty.”

  She smiled, pleased by his greeting.

  “Are you giving Seth a hard time?” he asked in Russian. Truth was, Seth needed to learn Russian if he meant to stick around. The family constantly switched back and forth between Russian and English, usually at a high speed.

  At that moment it made it easier to be frank, but it would always be used to get around him until he figured out how to fend for himself. And he’d learned from Maybe just how much people hated being talked around like that.

  She made a sound. “He wants things. He needs to give them to Cristian, not the other way around.” Then she tossed out a not-so-nice slang term for cop he’d heard from her husband more than once.

  Alexsei shook his head. “No. That’s not it at all. He’s got ambition. He’s a detective now and good enough at it that he recently got a promotion. He’s responsible. Stable. He loves Cris.”

  “Cris can do better,” she said, disdain heavy in the words. “A businessman. A pilot. Not a cop.”

  “And Cris loves him. He wants to take care of your son. And your son wants his mother to be supportive of his choices.” He shrugged a shoulder and she gave him a look, but allowed him to close the topic.

  His uncle came in and called for everyone to come to the table. Seth settled in next to Cristian, looking a little glazed over, but mainly all right.

  Alexsei’s mother sat in the chair he’d been holding out for her and then he grabbed the place to her left, between her and his uncle, across from his aunt. For that one moment it was nice to see them all there. His very large family all talking, catching up, laughing and bragging.

  Irena had gone all out, preparing not just two salads, but four. He knew she wanted his mother to see how well she took care of the family. Even if things were complicated between his mother and aunt, they were sisters. There was love there, regardless of anything else.

  After the salads came some soup. Mushroom, Alexsei’s favorite. He winked at his aunt, knowing she’d made it for him.

  The main dishes, the sides, more food and more food until three hours and countless plates of food later Alexsei had to admit defeat and push himself back, away from the table before he gave in to his aunt’s urging and ate even more.

  They settled in the living room just beyond and once everyone had quieted down, Cristian stood and held a hand out Seth’s way. “Mom, Seth and I bought a house. We thought it might be nice to drive past and see it tomorrow on the way back to the airport. We don’t close for another thirty days, but you can see it from the outside at least.”

  “You aren’t married,” Polina said to Cristian.

  “We’ve been trying to get things in order before we decide to get married. Seth’s family wants to be here for any ceremony and so we want to do it at least a year from now.”

  She made a sound and then told him in Russian, “He’s pretty, but you’ll support him then? Is that how you want to live? He should be taking care of you, not the other way around.”

  “I know you’re uncomfortable with us being gay,” Seth began, knowing enough to understand the conversation was about him but not getting what the actual problem was.

  “You know?” Polina narrowed her gaze and took Seth in. “I only met you yesterday and you know me so well? Cristian is who he is. I don’t care about gay or not gay.” She made a movement with her hand, sweeping it away.

  “What is the problem then?” Seth demanded.

  Alexsei wished very much that he’d taken his uncle up on that shot he’d offered just before they’d walked out of the kitchen. This was going to be a long, horrible scene. He could taste it.

  Irena made a sound with her tongue that didn’t bode well for his brother’s partner. She told Cris to handle his business and then began to address Polina in short bursts of Russian.

  Seth had an uphill battle. They all enjoyed his company and clearly he made Cristian happy, but he wasn’t Russian. Strike one. Not entirely insurmountable. Far worse though, he hadn’t greeted Polina in a way she expected and then he’d been short with her. Bluntness was an art form in his family, yes, but you didn’t fuck with your mother-in-law like that. At least not from go. She didn’t care that Cristian was gay. But she very much cared about status and Seth hadn’t respected it.

  And the worst thing of all to Polina was that Seth worked for the authorities. Her whole lifestyle at that point was supported by things not lawful even in Russia.

  His brother sent him a pleading look and Vic groaned at his side.

  “You need to let them handle this,” he muttered to Alexsei.

  “He loves the guy. What am I supposed to do?”

  “You’re supposed to let Cris handle it. If he wants Seth, he has to do this. If you get in the middle, they’ll both be upset and dissatisfied. No matter what you do or say.”

  “Like some sort of dystopian future? I leave them to fight to the death?”

  Vic snorted. “If he can’t fight for Cris and Cris for him, it’s not meant to be. If you step in too early she’ll never accept Seth. At least give them another five minutes. No one’s yelling or crying.”

  “Yet.”

  “Yet may be as good as it ever gets with this family, Alyosha.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  IT WAS PAST ELEVEN but the night was warm enough, even in November, for Maybe to be on the porch as she drank her tea and looked at the stars. While layered up in all her fleece, naturally.

  Even in the middle of their quiet suburban neighborhood there was still activity. Houses here and there had lights on.

  Next door at the Orlovs, the family dinner had been raucous enough that Maybe heard it from time to time. Mostly it had sounded festive, but a few times she was pretty sure she was overhearing an argument.

  She’d come home from work, hung out with Rachel and Cora after band practice was over and still wasn’t quite ready for bed. So Maybe’d opted for fresh air and the stars for quiet company and wasn’t disappointed at all to catch sight of Alexsei stalking from Irena and Pavel’s place next door.

  Maybe considered remaining silent and letting him go. But he was right there. And she wanted his company, even for a little while. So she raised a hand and called out quietly.

  He turned, starting a little when he noticed her on the porch. He paused, his body tense in the yellowy light of the streetlamp.

  Then he headed over to her.

  “How was dinner?” she asked when he climbed the front steps.

  “Irena is a good cook. I’m full.”

  Which in Alexsei-speak would normally answer the question. If the food was good and he was full, it was a successful dinner. But he had a hesitation around his eyes as well as the set of his shoulders.

  She waited, wondering if he’d elaborate. He didn’t.

  “Would you like a cup of tea?” she asked at last.

  “No. Do you have alcohol?”

  Ouch. “That kind of dinner, hu
h? Yeah, come on in.” Maybe unlocked the three front door locks and indicated he join her inside.

  “Did you just get home?” he asked as she locked up once they were in the front hall and set the alarm.

  “No. I’ve been back a few hours or so. Why?”

  “The door was locked many times. Is everything all right?” He frowned and it made her tingly.

  “We always lock the door, even when we’re home. Let’s hang out in my room. That way we won’t bug Rachel. Then I’ll explain.”

  One corner of his mouth lifted slightly and she rolled her eyes as she grabbed a bottle and some glasses.

  Maybe realized, as she led him down the four steps to the side of the house her bedroom inhabited, that he’d never been in there before.

  Cool.

  “Make yourself comfortable. I just need to run up and check on something.” She wanted to touch base with Rachel briefly. Her sister didn’t need surprises.

  On the other side of the house, Rachel lay in her bed, surrounded by sketchbooks, her e-reader, comics, and whatever flotsam and jetsam that amused her at any given time.

  “I’ve got a wild Russian bearded barber in my bed right now. Well,” Maybe amended, “in my room. The bed part is one of those wish fulfillment things. Anyhoodle. I just wanted to let you know what was up and that if you hear me screaming about God it was probably due to orgasms and other lady business.”

  Then she froze and regretted her words. Oh a joke about screaming to her sister who’d been held captive by a madman for three weeks. So stupid!

  But she didn’t apologize, knowing it would only start a thing between her and her sister.

  Rachel’s face lit with recognition and then annoyance. “Oh for fuck’s sake, Maybe. You can’t remove every single word that might apply to something horrible that happened to me from your life. Mainly because you talk too much for that to be anything near a reality. But also, I’m not that fragile. I promise.”

  “I know you’re not fragile. Jesus. You’re the strongest, bravest person I know. I’m sorry if I made you feel like that. I just want to protect you and I go too far. I’m sorry.”

  “Stop apologizing. You and me are fine. We always have been. I’m a work in progress and you let me be. That’s what makes everything okay. Now go on down to your wild bearded barber before he thinks you’ve escaped out the back door.” Rachel gave her a last, exasperated but affectionate smile before turning her attention back to the pad on her lap.

  Maybe knew Rachel still checked every single window and door several times a day. Their security system was top-of-the-line and ridiculous and her sister reset it at least weekly, but it was one of the only things that had helped Rachel sleep at night when they’d first moved in to the house.

  But Maybe had never thought of that as weak. Just the opposite. Every day Rachel woke up and lived her life and sometimes it was just a matter of making it without ending up in a weeping ball in the shower. But those days seemed less and less frequent, and Maybe liked that a great deal.

  Alexsei was in her room where she’d left him. He’d made himself at home as she’d directed, splayed out in the chair near the bed, the bottle and glasses on the bedside table.

  He’d even unbuttoned the top two shirt buttons, exposing his throat. Sending her heartbeat into a few salsa thumps.

  Finally. After years of playing this scenario over in her head, he was actually in her room. In. Her. Room.

  She kicked off her slippers and got onto her bed so she sat across from him. He handed her a glass filled with vodka and they clinked before taking the shot.

  “I know it’s sort of stereotypical to hand a Russian vodka for shots and all.”

  He sighed, as he often did when she just blurted out whatever.

  “Some stereotypes are based on things that are true often enough to be a stereotype.”

  “I really love your accent.”

  He paused and then shook his head slowly. With a smile. “I like vodka. So thank you. Why are there so many locks on your door? Are you afraid?”

  She frowned, not expecting this direction in the conversation. It wasn’t as if what happened to Rachel had been a secret. FBI agent tracking a serial killer gets kidnapped and barely survives that same serial killer. It was gangbusters for all the news cycles. Grist for click bait and the subject of a true crime book written by a woman who cashed in on the misery of others as a living.

  But it was Rachel’s story. Her life and Maybe tried to respect that without making what she’d gone through seem like a shameful secret.

  “We take home security very seriously around here. Rachel was an FBI agent so this is sort of her thing.”

  “She killed the man who harmed her, didn’t she? Is there still a threat?”

  He wasn’t being deliberately provocative or anything. She’d noticed over the years she’d known him that he was just blunt. Like the rest of his family, she supposed.

  “I’m the one who wants a drink now,” she mumbled.

  It was a joke. Sort of. He didn’t take it as such, however, handing her a refilled glass with a serious expression.

  She raised it before drinking, the burn helping overcome the unreality of all these things in her life intersecting at once.

  “It’s really odd having you here in my room. I mean, I’ve thought about it before and you’ve been in the house a few times. Thanks for helping us move the new couch in, by the way.”

  He appeared mildly stunned but not offended or scared. Amused probably because she was prone to these little spells as Vic referred to them.

  “So yeah, the locks. When we have a safe house, it’s easier.”

  “It makes Rachel more comfortable to feel safe after what she endured. This makes sense to me.”

  He nodded and she realized—not for the first time—how nice it was that he was so plainspoken. He didn’t try to shield her or take over for her. He just listened and reacted to what she’d said without artifice.

  “So now it’s your turn to talk about your night,” she urged.

  “Family.” The way he said it pretty much explained the situation. But she waited and finally he sighed long and spoke again. “Cristian wants our mother’s approval. Seth insulted her, and though not on purpose it still causes problems.” He shrugged.

  “She doesn’t visit very often. Does she, I mean, is she still involved in your life enough to have that matter? Or, I guess it’s not really about that when it comes to family. Sometimes we want things that will never happen.”

  “She’s our mother. Cristian was younger than me when we came here. He feels her absence differently, I suppose.”

  “Is it the gay thing? I know there are some problems in Russia with how LGBTQA folks are treated.”

  “It might be if we lived there. But we don’t. As far as I can tell she doesn’t care about that. Never has that I’ve seen. But her community most likely would. And they’d most likely care about the cop thing way more than the gay thing. Seth is a cop. I’m not sure if you knew that.”

  She had, and given the number of cops in her family, she’d accepted it with a shrug. He seemed to make Alexsei’s sweet brother very happy, so that was the biggest deal anyway.

  “Her community?”

  He gave her a look and then shrugged. “Her husband is involved in organized crime. From all my exposure to him and his compatriots, they are small-minded except when it comes to money.”

  “Oh.” What the hell did you say to that? Well, Maybe knew what she would say probably wouldn’t be what anyone else would. So what would a normal person say to this?

  He laughed though. A big, booming laugh that made her want to rub all over him.

  “Oh? Zajka, you must be biting your tongue so hard not to comment more.” His mouth did some stuff and she might have gone away for a few long moments as she struggled not to lea
n in and lick it.

  “Zajka?” She sounded slightly intoxicated. Or probably she was slightly intoxicated and also really turned on.

  “Yes, an endearment. Ah, like bunny or rabbit?”

  He’d used an endearment on her?

  “Do you want to hear what I thought then?”

  “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here. Or I’d tell you.”

  He probably would. Which was nice too. Also his underlining that he was there on purpose.

  “I just wondered what the heck one was supposed to say when told someone was married to the mob. I mean, are you part of that?”

  “I’m not. It’s one of the reasons my brother and I were sent here. To her credit, my mother saw that I was interested in the street life her husband lived and she sent us far away.”

  “But your sisters are there?” That sounded so judgy, but what the fuck? Who did that? Then again, she remembered her own parents and that humbled her quite a bit.

  “They’re his. Her husband’s. He didn’t care that she sent us here. In fact I think he preferred it that way. My sisters are in boarding school in Switzerland. I’d normally frown upon that, but it keeps them out of that mess for most of the year so I accept the rest.”

  Maybe nodded. Understanding. “So it was one of those family dinners where everyone had super high expectations of everyone else and no one met them and everyone left unsettled and slightly dissatisfied?”

  “Exactly so.”

  She wanted to dig deeper. Wanting to understand him better. But she also could tell from his body language that he’d shared all he was going to for that moment.

  Over the years, he’d given her bits and pieces of his story and each time had felt like a gift. And now she wanted more.

  “Can I do anything to help? Make it better somehow?”

  His gaze sharpened and landed on her like a physical thing that stole her breath.

  Was he going to request something dirty?

  God she hoped so.