Three Vlog Night

by Z. A. Maxfield

  “Maybe you should quit?” Dmytro stated the obvious. “A night job on the highway like this? Is very vulnerable.”

  “One time I got hit on the head. One time. Out of how many?”

  “Er—” Ajax didn’t have to do the math. “One is too many, for a mom. Believe me. Mine brings in the National Guard every time I break a nail.”

  “Your mother is overprotective? I’ll bet she isn’t half as bad as mine. Mine’s an ER nurse. Anyway, it’s different for boys.”

  “Not gay boys,” Ajax countered. “Whenever I bring a guy home to meet them, my mom tries to get a full blood panel. ‘You’re being safe, right? You’re being careful? Don’t forget that every time you swap fluids you have to use protection.’”

  Muse looked horrified, but not for the reason he thought. “You don’t do that, do you? Bring guys home to your parents? Because—”

  “Do I look stupid to you?” Ajax asked.

  “Little bit.” She looked him over carefully and then smiled. “Maybe.”

  “Well. I’m not,” he said testily.

  Bartosz asked, “Did we just introduce Bonnie to Clyde?”

  “Ajax.” Dmytro laid a firm hand on Ajax’s shoulder. “Please. In Anton’s name. No more. Let us do our jobs. I need to let Zhenya know about this latest development.”

  Ajax asked Muse’s friend, “She’s going to be all right?”

  “Yes.” He nodded for emphasis. “It could as easily have been my dad, I guess, and he’s no spring chicken. I’m JT Lents.”

  “Pleasure.” Ajax returned his firm handshake. “I like your dad. He’s cool.”

  JT smiled. “I think so too.”

  Ajax turned back to Muse. “I like it here. Maybe St. Nacho’s chose me. Maybe I’ll come back sometime, soon as I get rid of my admirer.”

  She smiled. “If you do, look me up. I’ll probably be at Miss Independence Pies during the day from now on.”

  “Mm… pie. You’ll have to tell me what else is good to eat around here. Show me where to go and what to do, okay?”

  “Okay.” She waved while JT called the police to report the robbery.

  “We’re Iphicles Security Services should you have need.”

  As Dmytro led Ajax from the office, Bartosz gave JT his card.

  “Our boss will fill you in, but we’re on a security detail to protect the boy. We would appreciate discretion. Ajax is—”

  As the door closed behind them, Ajax continued for him: “The pale, writhing larva of people rich enough to buy him the best security that money can buy, even if his problems are entirely self-created, while other people’s equally precious kids are being knocked over the head for the meager contents of a motel cash register. How is that okay?”

  “It’s not okay,” Dmytro answered. “Tonight, though…. You obviously thrive on flouting authority. You really meant to stay with her, even if doing so put your life in danger?”

  Ajax shrugged “I didn’t believe in the danger, so I played the odds.”

  “But you didn’t know for certain. There was no way to know the person who hit her wasn’t still lurking around—”

  “None of that crossed my mind.” He hesitated when Bartosz brushed past them. “I saw a girl bleeding. She needed our help. I’m not gonna walk away from that.”

  Dmytro guided him brusquely to the parking lot, where Bartosz was already clicking the remote to find Muse’s car. While Ajax watched, he opened the rear door to a battered Mazda. Dmytro motioned him into the back ahead of him. Bartosz got in the driver seat and they roared away.

  Ajax remained silent because he still didn’t know what to say.

  “Despite your insubordination, Anton would be proud.” Dmytro’s smile shortened Ajax’s breath. Its warmth made his blood quicken.

  Hardly anyone told him they were proud of him anymore. It meant so much more to hear Dmytro say that Anton would be proud of him, because they had both worshipped Dmytro’s dead brother. That much was clear enough from their earlier conversation, from the blank, unhappy way Dmytro had looked when he’d realized Ajax knew Anton—had spent so much time with him before he died.

  Maybe they were both Anton’s younger brothers, figuratively trying to live up to some golden ideal of what a man should be. Maybe they shared the longing to be the kind of man Anton was when he died. A hero.

  But Ajax Freedom—even Ajax Fairchild—was nobody’s idea of a hero.

  He could try harder. Do better. Follow orders, if only because his mother and father, and by extension Dmytro and Bartosz, wanted what was best for him. In turn, he wanted Dmytro to get home to his little girls safely.

  Maybe he could even figure out a way to help Dimitri spend more quality time with them. Find him interactive apps or other ways they could play games or learn as a family online.

  Things happened so quickly. You had to snatch every moment you could.

  What happened to Muse—the blood, the shock of violence, that she might have died—caught up to him at last. Unhappily, he watched the blank, dark scenery pass. The gray-and-sand color of grass whispering on the side of the road. The distant glassy sea. He didn’t know where they were going except the general direction was south. He couldn’t stop tapping the fingers of one hand against his thumb. 1-2-3-4-4-3-2-1. As long as it wasn’t against something—as long as it was only his fingers tapping an endless series of uncomplicated sequences against his thumb—his secret was safe. Probably.

  He had very nearly drifted off when a hand came down on his shoulder.

  “Tell me what you’re doing?” Dmytro asked. “I’d like to help.”

  Chapter 13

  Ajax Freedom, the angels are on my side, and the demon gods you pray to are powerless against me.

  “NOTHING. TAPPING.” Ajax’s fingers didn’t stop moving. “It helps when I can’t sleep.”

  “You can stop.” Dmytro took hold of his hands. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “I’m not afraid. Not the way you think.”

  “Then what?” Dmytro couldn’t stand the haunted look on Ajax’s face just then.

  “It helps me redirect my focus. If I can’t get rid of some redundant, obsessive thought, I might stay awake all night worrying. Or I might be unable to do something important like go to class on a test day or dispute a miscalculated bill.”

  “I see.” Dmytro gave the explanation some thought. “You rechannel your focus.”

  “Exactly. When my thoughts get paralyzing, that’s when the compulsions start. And I hate going down that road, so I pick something harmless. Tapping. Counting. Old habits.”

  Dmytro lowered his eyes. “What are you thinking now?”

  “Pi,” Ajax admitted. “I imagine the decimals jumping over a fence in a field, like sheep.”

  “Before that,” Dmytro asked. “What made you start tapping?”

  “I… was remembering Anton.”

  “Me too.” Dmytro gave a soft nod and let his hands go. “Talk to me. Tell me what you remember?”

  “When I was little, he piggybacked me all over the gardens like he was my personal horse.” Ajax shifted against the seat. “Once I overheard my mom say he and Katy wanted children, but the universe seemed to be making other plans.”

  Dmytro’s heart fell sharply. “I always wondered.”

  “They seemed happy to me,” Ajax offered, “but what do kids know?”

  “A lot.” Dmytro pulled out his phone and held it between his hands. While his daughters’ picture lit up his home screen, he didn’t actually look at it. As though he could feel their light, their warmth, through his fingertips, he smiled. “Kids always know more than their parents are willing to share. They can read the atmosphere of a home, and no matter what you try to tell them…. Perhaps they see into your heart.”

  Ajax gave a shrug. “Since one or both of my parents missed my entire childhood, I’m not sure my experience counts.”

  “That’s no good.” Dmytro glanced up and their eyes met. He was probably wear
ing his heart on his sleeve, but Ajax had touched on his deepest fears. “I keep in touch with my daughters every single day. We text or video chat at least three times a day. I hope they—”

  “My parents wanted to be there for me.” Ajax licked his lips. “But they had super important jobs. Someone had to take one for the team. It wasn’t always me. Plus, they left me in excellent hands. I’m not messed up by it or anything.” He gave a nervous laugh. “Well, I am messed up, but not by them.”

  “I hate being an absentee father. I worry for my girls.” Dmytro gave Ajax’s back another awkward pat. “After my wife died, I faced the dilemma of doing work that only I can do—work I’m good at, which pays extremely well—or staying home with Sasha and Pen and finding some other kind of job. I second-guess my decision every day.”

  “Maybe you’ll find another woman you love?”

  Dmytro wanted to say something about that being unlikely. He’d tried. He couldn’t stop himself from comparing every other woman to Yulia. He felt disloyal even thinking about it now. He wished he could break the ice surrounding his heart. Perhaps he was a one-woman man.

  Ajax glanced shyly at him and then down at his hands. Dmytro was suddenly embarrassed by the whole conversation. It was too intimate there in the cramped rear seat of the girl’s car. Too charged with emotion.

  “Maybe I’ll look for a someone,” he finally lied.

  “In the meantime”—Ajax said the words in a rush—“I’m sure your girls know you love them. But I’ll tell you something I was just thinking. There’s an app called SkySafari, and you can put it on your phone and plug in any geographical coordinates. When you and your girls go to bed at night, wherever you are in the world, you can see the same sky. That’d be something, right? Them being able to see the exact stars you’re looking at? The position of the moon? Or you could pick a third place and pretend you’re there together?”

  “SkySafari?” Dmytro’s voice thickened.

  “It’s a very small world now, you know? You can be anywhere, with anyone, in real time if you’re lucky enough to have the resources. That’s… maybe going to be my new goal. To help kids get the same technical resources I had so they aren’t ever… alone.”

  “Because of your parents.”

  Ajax nodded. “I wouldn’t trade my parents for anyone, even if they might be thinking about trading me right now.”

  “Your parents are only worried about your safety.”

  “They’re disappointed too.” Ajax’s fingers started ticking again. “They thought I’d go to grad school and make a name for myself.”

  Dmytro suppressed a grin. “You got things half right. Tell me about that.”

  “About what?”

  “Ajax Freedom.” Dmytro said it with a tinge of disgust. “Tell me about the billionaire brat pack and all that entitled behavior, because that’s… not really you, is it?”

  “How would you know?” Ajax scoffed. “I’ve had access to the best of everything all my life. People fall all over themselves to please me. Of course I’m an entitled jerk.”

  “I… don’t see it.” Dmytro studied him carefully. “Anymore.”

  Ajax gave a chuckle. “Just wait, baby. Because I’m sure a meltdown is coming, and when it does, you won’t know what hit you.”

  “It did,” Dmytro pointed out. “It has.”

  “When? Packing? Leaving? That fast-food thing? Pfeh.” He waved his hand dismissively. “I was just warming up with the fast-food thing.”

  “What I remember is you gave your scarf to someone who needed it more.”

  “Well… that.” He let his hair fall over his eyes. “I have a million scarves.”

  Dmytro glanced out the window. “You refused to leave Muse until she got help, and the danger there might have been very real.”

  “We have no proof of that. It’s my parents who believe I’m in danger. Those notes—”

  “Would be terrifying to any parent.” Dmytro was a parent. He’d kill anyone who threatened his daughters.

  “Any parent who’s never been on the web. Believe me. Threats like those are a dime a dozen. You could post a smiley face and get threats like those. It’s probably a Russian bot.”

  “Zhenya believes. And I assure you, he’s not in the habit of wasting the clients’ money.”

  “If you say so.” Ajax settled back into his seat. “How come you don’t drive?”

  Dmytro lifted his hand to feel for the thick scar on the back of his head. “I got a head injury on the job. Right afterward, I had some seizures, so now I’m under observation. I’ll get to drive again when enough time has passed without one.”

  Ajax tightened his lips. “I hate that anybody might be injured because of me.”

  “That’s the job, Ajax.” He’d said the words softly—uttered Ajax’s given name with too much familiarity. Now he wanted to catch hold of it and pull it back, because it said too much about him. Ajax heard the difference. His expression said he liked it.

  “I didn’t mean for things to go so far,” Ajax finally confessed. “I knew what I said on those vlogs and podcasts crossed a big fat line, but it seemed like the more I put a target on my back, the more people engaged with each other. I mean, even if it was against me, I thought I was making people think. Negotiate. Communicate. Come together.”

  Dmytro sighed. “I can truly see how you’d believe that, but you were naive.”

  “Okay, maybe. But now everyone ‘thinks’ I’m a jerk.” He used air quotes.

  “I don’t think you’re a jerk,” Dmytro offered. “You simply chose the worst possible way to achieve what you believe in.”

  “I’m not sorry.”

  “Yes, you are.” Dmytro turned away and pulled out his phone. A thick silence descended again.

  “Everything okay back there?” Bartosz eyed them both in the rearview mirror.

  Ajax wrapped his arms around himself. “I don’t suppose you remembered to ship all my things ahead.”

  “Ha ha.” When Bartosz braked for a red light, he turned. “If you need medication, I can make certain you have it wherever we’re going.”

  “Where’s that?”

  Bartosz said, “That’s need-to-know.”

  “I need to know.” He stared from one man to the other. “Honestly? Do you seriously think I’m leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for someone who wants to purify me ‘for the good of the world’?”

  “No, we don’t think that.”

  “Well what, then? I have the world’s best stalker?” His eyes widened. “Or do you have a leak on your side.”

  Bartosz and Dmytro exchanged a glance. Dmytro said, “Not likely.”

  “But not impossible?” Ajax asked.

  Bartosz’s face was lined with exhaustion. “We’re just playing safe.”

  When the light changed, he turned back to the road. Dmytro thumbed through pictures on his phone.

  As usual, Ajax had to fill every silence. “Are you talking to your girls?”

  “They’ve been asleep for hours by now. You should follow their example.”

  “I will as soon as my mind shuts down.”

  “What will it take?” asked Bartosz.

  Ajax rubbed his eyes. “Exhaustion, probably.”

  Dmytro put his phone down. “You’re not exhausted? After the day you had? Do you need me to read you a story?”

  Ajax’s flinty look put Dmytro on high alert. “What will make you stop treating me like a child?”

  “I’m not—”

  “I could blow you. I’m awesome at it—I’m sure I can get references. I could rim you.” Ajax’s mutinous glare singed him. “Ride you like a horse until you scream and I cream all over your face.”

  “Ajax.” Dmytro concealed the sudden burst of lust that shot through him at Ajax’s coarse words. He hoped he did.

  “Or….” Ajax leaned closer and spoke at a near whisper. “You could fuck me from behind like an animal. Push me up against a wall and pound me. Or wait—I’d like to get o
n all fours while you grip my hair and push so deep you strike sparks in my heart.”

  Bartosz shook with laughter. “Oh, brother, how I wish you could drive.”

  Dmytro stilled every muscle in his body and shrouded his face. The thing he couldn’t control, his treacherous heart, beat double-time while his shock passed.

  “Or I could have Bartosz play an audiobook.” He narrowed eyes he knew to be too cold and not blue enough.

  With a put-upon sigh, Ajax flopped in his seat. “What’ve you got?”

  Bartosz took pity on Dmytro and cleared his throat before asking, “Have you read Plummet to Soar? It’s a silly book, but Dmytro loves it. It will put you straight to sleep.”

  “You like that book?” Ajax groaned. “That’s what started this whole mess. That stupid, stupid book.”

  “How so?” Dmytro had read the thing on a plane while it was on the New York Times Best Seller List. Now it had been stripped from the shelves and the author publicly scorned.

  “That book is why I walked away from Ajax Freedom.” If possible, he made himself smaller. “After I read it, I hated everything about him.”

  “It had that effect on a lot of people.”

  “Well. Living an authentic life is hard fucking work.” Ajax pouted.

  “We could turn on the radio,” Bartosz offered. “Or I could use a pressure point to knock you unconscious.”

  Ajax huffed another sigh. “Liquor is easier. Plus, it might loosen us all up.”

  God help me. “Alcohol is not a good sleep strategy.”

  Ajax turned his back. “This is turning out to be the longest night.”

  “I can sing Ukrainian lullabies.” Dmytro gave it a shot. It worked for his girls, although Liv said they only slept to get away from the noise. Now his voice sounded barely used, like an ancient set of bagpipes wheezing to life.

  “You sing your kids to sleep with that voice?”

  Dmytro glared and kept on singing the simple tune. Bartosz joined him without singing the actual words. The tune was simple. Universal. Ajax couldn’t have a clue what the words meant, but for Dmytro the song was so painful just then, tears stung his eyes. Ajax stayed silent for a change, and shortly Dmytro trailed off.