“I’m not cutting my hair.” Nikola’s face remained stoic. She kept her hands balled into fists. “This is over.”
Diana kept her expression calm, but she was becoming irate. “Why not?” Somedays, it felt as though nothing between Diana and Nikola happened without a fight.
Nikola didn’t say anything. Diana recognized Nikola was ignoring her.
“It’s vital to your advancement as an agent.” Diana was right about earlier; Nikola was too raw. This rawness made her easy to read. It was clear something about this idea was making her uncomfortable and dragging her further and further away from the conversation at hand. “Where are you running off to, Nikola?”
“Somewhere where I’m not expected to talk about my hair,” she said calmly, seemingly pleased with herself.
“Oh, goddammit, Nikola, out with it, now.” Diana gave Nikola’s shoulder a light smack.
“I don’t like getting my haircut. So, it’s a no.” Nikola ran her hands through her hair, pulled down her hood and let her champagne-colored ponytail fall to her midback. “A strong no.”
“I can’t train you if you aren’t willing to even cut your goddamn hair,” Diana scoffed.
“I’m a great agent.” Nikola shrugged. “I’ll manage.”
“Nikola. What’s wrong?”
Nikola gave a loud huff. Diana had pulled the strings that got her out onto the field. She’d gotten her onto the best missions, stood up for her when she made mistakes, and trained her in combat. Nikola owed her this.
“It’s my mother,” Nikola started. “When I was younger, it was just her and I. We lived in a small doublewide, somewhere in a shithole trailer park.” She let out a weak exhale and then inhaled sharply through her teeth. “I was a kid so, of course, I threw hissy fits as bad as yours. Most days, if I acted out at home, it was the belt, but if it was out in public, she’d drag me to a bathroom stall and beat the shit out of me with the back of a wooden hairbrush, everywhere but the face.” Nikola spoke with an enviable stillness. She was clearly distanced far from whatever feelings she’d had at the time. “It was like that for seventeen years. When I finally got a chance to leave, I did. Within a few months, I was with the CIA.” She let out a dark laugh. “Anyway, can’t get near hairbrushes now. They make me anxious.”
“All the more reason to cut your hair.” Diana scrunched her face and even smiled a little.
“Go into one of those ritzy beauty parlors you go to? Pay sixty bucks to sit around hair brushes for half an hour?” Nikola jeered.
“God, is that why you have a rat’s nest of a ponytail?” Diana winked and took Nikola’s hand. She kissed the top of it, listening to Nikola’s rhythmic breathing. She admired how brave Nikola was to tell her this. That was a weakness, a big one, and she trusted her enough to tell her. It moved her. She decided to share her own story. “I had my first abortion when I was seventeen.” She sighed, resting her head on Nikola’s shoulder. “Hollywood, California. The dad was out of the picture and I’d already moved away from my parents’ place. At first, I tried to just miscarry, throwing myself down stairs, lifting the heaviest things I could find, but no luck.”
Both Nikola and Diana were holding their breath until the story to continued.
“I used a crochet hook, but coat hangers, knitting needles, they’re all the same. I could have ripped my uterus open, or I could have hemorrhaged and died on the floor of my apartment with a towel between my legs. But I didn’t.” Diana let out a long, soulful hum. “I didn’t feel guilty. I still don’t. I did what I had to, but I did feel numb. Once it was over, I tried to kill myself, better to feel pain than nothing, right? I drove out to the hills and went right over the median and off a slope.” She twirled her hair around her fingers. “The next thing I knew, Adams was pulling me from my broken windshield. He took me under his wing, promised me freedom of choice, a career, fame. I took it.” She shrugged. “That’s how I ended up with the CIA. And after years of training, after years of sacrifice, I’m here. No one can control me now. I’m untouchable.” Diana licked her lips. “Sacrifices have to be made if you want to be indestructible, Nikola.” They were quiet again, looking up into the sky of DC. Many minutes passed between them before Diana spoke again.
“I bet that’s why you purge.”
“What?” Nikola replied. “I haven’t purged since…” Nikola’s voice sounded suddenly delicate.
“Did you purge then? When you lived with your mother?”
“Yeah.” Nikola kept her eyes down and out of Diana’s line of sight.
“It’s all about control, Nikola.” Diana lifted her hand from Nikola’s and instead grazed her partner’s chin. “Look at how far you’ve come. No more purging and no more fear.” She spoke knowingly. “Because soon enough, you’ll have more control than you know what to do with.”
“All I have to do is cut my hair,” Nikola replied sharply, sarcastically.
Immediately upon Nikola’s remark, Diana’s lips met with hers. Their mouths melted together for only one, sensual moment before Nikola’s face hardened.
“Don’t.”
“What?” Diana softened her expression as she looked at Nikola in confusion.
“I’ve seen what you do to the people you kiss.” Nikola shook her head, her face now burning with a blush.
“You’re worried I’ll hurt you?”
Nikola’s expression changed to an emotion Diana had never seen her genuinely portray until that day. Nikola was scared.
Diana frowned. “I’d never.” She shook her head, her curls cascading over her shoulders. “Not with you.” She touched Nikola’s face tenderly. “Never with you.”
They both sat, staring at each other for a few seconds. But to Diana, it felt like an eternity had passed by the time Nikola finally leaned in to press her lips to Diana’s again.
*
Diana scooted herself and Da Vinci closer to the fire. He was sweating heavily, and it finally seemed like he was coming to.
“I destroyed her,” she whispered to herself, grabbing the bottle of aspirin. She fed Da Vinci two pills and then swallowed six of her own. “And if you give me the chance—” She hushed him. “—I’ll destroy you, too.” From there, they sat together as the snow collected outside the walls of their shelter.
Avarice
DECEMBER 10, 1963
Gulliver pinched the tiny red straw in his scotch glass. He spun his drink mindlessly. “And so I told them I won’t be returning for at least a few more months.” Gulliver said and like he was adding on to a previous statement, but the words came from nowhere.
Sergei looked around the dive bar they were sitting in, seeming to search for the party Gulliver was talking to. He smiled when he returned his gaze to Gulliver.
“Who? Your family?” he asked.
“Afraid so.”
“How’d that go?” Sergei asked, pressing his fingertips lightly against his glass.
“They’re getting tired. The work is slow in Nottingham. They say they miss me a lot.” Gulliver took another sip of his scotch, hoping to drink himself blind enough not to see the truth when others lie. As the days passed, Gulliver was growing more and more discouraged by people and their inability to be honest. Sergei was a beacon of truth amongst the thieves and the liars.
“Did you tell them why?” he asked.
“Dear Mum, dear Father, I, your only son, Roderick, have been granted sentient abilities, which enable me to see your every lie and half-truth. Therefore, I will not be returning home in fear that it will entirely tarnish the sacred image I have of you two. As it has tarnished the image of literally everyone I have talked to in the last month. Except Sergei. P.S. I’m a queer double agent. Toodles, cheerio, miss you dearly, RW,” Roderick knew Sergei would likely worry at the usage of their real names, but they were out. It was the middle of the night. So what if they got to be Roderick and Sergei for the evening?
The bartender shot the two of them a funny look. Sergei then gestured back to the tender
, signaling that perhaps his friend had had a bit too much to drink and was now acting ridiculous. Sergei took Roderick’s glass and the bartender went back to the jane he was serving.
“Goddammit, I wanted another scotch,” Roderick hissed. “I’ve had all of half a glass.”
“We’ll get out of here soon,” Sergei assured him.
“Inviting me back to your place? That’s so rash. We hardly know each other.” Roderick winked.
“That did not stop you from writing to your pretend parents about me.”
“Believe me, I’d sing your name from the heavens if I could.” Roderick lightly punched Sergei’s arm before slamming back the rest of his drink. “I’m satisfied. Let’s go.”
“I am still finishing my drink.” Sergei rolled his eyes and shotgunned the half-full White Russian on the bar lip, threw a few bills down, and then headed out into the cool Virginia night. They hurried into the Karmann Ghia parked in the far back of the lot. Its plates were intentionally not lit. Sergei climbed in the driver’s side and Roderick in the passenger’s side.
“Could you grab a pass?” Sergei gestured to the glove compartment.
“Of course, this hotel seems especially excited to tow u—” Roderick’s voice was cut off by a loud snap.
Sergei had one hand pressed to the steering wheel, ready to drive off. In the other hand, he gripped the top half of the newly snapped-in-two stick shift.
“Ooooooooh, god. Nikola will have your head.”
Sergei widened his eyes. Seemingly frozen until he decided to rip the topper off the broken portion of the stick shift and shove it onto the still-attached portion of the stick shift, his strength making the task easy.
“I love you, but I think she’ll be able to deduce what happened, even with your clever cover.”
“Never. My execution? Flawless.” Sergei snorted, then revved the engine and peeled out of the bar’s parking lot.
They were right about the hotel’s parking policy. Upon arriving, there was a compact sedan being towed away.
“So you’re going to let me have whatever I want from the minibar, right? Since you denied me that last scotch?”
“Sure.” Sergei shrugged and stepped out of the car.
Roderick hurried about behind him. “That was a joke. Do you know how expensive hotel-room booze is?”
“Imagine if we skipped out on the bill.” Sergei paused for a moment and leaned in closer to Roderick. “Imagine if we”—he lowered his voice to a near whisper—“broke the law.”
“Oh, my god, Sergei!” Roderick snorted and slapped Sergei’s arm.
“Please, yell my blatantly Russian name louder. I don’t think we’re suspicious enough yet.” Sergei snickered. “Should I yell that we’re about to go back to our hotel room and undress? Queer and communist, the kind bumpkins of the Carolina backcountry will be grateful for our contributions to society.”
“Oh, my god.” Roderick felt his face heating up. His eyes were starting to well from holding back a laugh. “Stop.” He tried to control his face and act serious, but it was not happening. “Come on.” He pushed in on the hotel’s doors and entered the lobby. The front desk was empty, and the only noise was an ice machine running on loop.
“I bet there’s booze behind the desk.” Sergei didn’t wait for Roderick to even reply to his musing. He just slid over to the top of the counter and landed on the other side. He crouched down and brought up with him two half-full bottles of bourbon. “I was right.”
Roderick cackled again, his laugh as bubbly as his stomach. “Oh, my god, you don’t even like that stuff. Put it back. We’ll drink from the tiny bottles in the minibar.”
Sergei put the bottles back and slid over the counter again. They walked through the dimly lit halls like fiends, often laughing too loud and certain they were up to no good.
“This is us.” Roderick stopped at room 23 and slid the key into the lock with no problem, but upon turning it, there was no satisfying click. The key wouldn’t move. He turned and looked at Sergei. “Bloody thing won’t budge.”
Sergei scooted closer to Roderick, took hold of the key himself, and turned it. The key bent and snapped in two as opposed to turning.
“You are on fire tonight.” Roderick elbowed Sergei’s stomach before trying to turn the knob again. It didn’t move.
“Here.” Sergei shooed Roderick away from the door. Once he had a grip on the door handle, he tried turning it with no success. “We’re going to have to break in, but do not worry, we can fix the door once inside.”
Sergei shoved toward the door at the same time Nikola opened it. They collided and went tumbling to the ground.
“What the hell, guys!” Nikola hissed, his body crushing her.
Roderick looked as though he’d just witnessed sacrilege. His entire face lit with red. “Oh, my god, Nikola. We’re so sorry.”
“Don’t just lay on me.” She tried pushing Sergei off her to no success. He lay there limp. “Kal!”
He laughed as he pressed off the ground and stood, then offered his hand to Nikola.
“I don’t need your charity.” She batted his hand away. It became clear that she was in no joking mood.
“What-what were you doing in our—Gulliver’s room?” Being partially buzzed kept Sergei pleasantly light.
Nikola’s gaze shifted from Sergei to Roderick and then back to Sergei. “Gulliver is room 24. You are room 22. I am in room 23.” She was showing him the door when she spotted the broken key sticking out of the lock. “And you have graciously broken my doorknob.”
“Oh no, your doorknob. God forbid someone try to break in. You’re defenseless with your superhuman agility and unlawful firearms.” Sergei shot back. “Do you have any booze?”
“None for you.” She ushered him out of her room. “Get out. I’ve got better things to do than babysit your drunk ass.”
Her door closed with a sharp click and Roderick and Sergei were once again out in the hall.
“Seeing as how I no longer have a key to my room…it looks like I’ll have to stay in yours.” Roderick leaned carefully against one of the hall’s beige walls.
Sergei’s room was a mess, unlike Roderick’s which was always kept in the cleanest of order. Sergei had clothes scattered all over the floor and half-full cups of coffee on every end table. It drove Roderick eight different kinds of crazy, but he loved Sergei enough for it not to matter.
Sergei headed straight for the minibar under the giant dresser covered in newspapers and mission notes. “Here, let’s see if there’s scotch.” He rummaged around. “Ah, no luck. Looks like you’re just going to have to drink tea like the limey crumpetfucker that you are.” When Sergei spoke, he was doing his best, poorly executed English accent on top of his already thick Russian accent. So, more than anything, he just sounded like he was having a stroke. Roderick was quick to approach the fridge and snag a mini-bottle of scotch.
“Look there’s vodka for your Lenin-loving arse.” From the time Roderick popped open the bottle’s cap to the moment Sergei kissed him, only fifty seconds had passed. Their bodies intertwined, and Roderick found himself desperate to set the alcohol down on any available table space and quick to kick his shoes off. Sergei slid his hands from around Roderick’s neck down to his hips. They stumbled their way over to the unmade bed in the corner of the room. Sergei pulled Roderick’s sweater over his head and then peeled his own shirt off. Even though Sergei was cold, Roderick could still hear his heart beating in his chest. They kissed hungrily, Roderick enveloping Sergei in his arms. They had just hit the bed when the phone rang. Roderick let out a long, loud sigh.
“Ignore it,” Sergei urged.
“We can’t. What if it’s the commander?” Roderick groaned, flopping his head back onto a pillow as though nothing worse could have possibly happened.
FOR A COUPLE rings, they waited to see if the phone would stop on its own, but the rings kept on. Sergei picked up.
“Hello?” he said.
“No.
” It was the cold and curt voice of Nikola. “No. You two do not get to wake my ass up in the middle of the night and then go next door and have loud sex. That is not how this works.”
A laugh started in Sergei’s stomach and came out as a deep, cool chuckle. Even though Nikola would pretend not to know about the two of them for Roderick’s sake, she had no issue bringing things up with Sergei.
“No, don’t laugh at it. Shut the hell up and screw quieter,” she huffed. “Besides, you two shouldn’t be fooling around right now, anyway. We need to be ready for tomorrow.”
“What’s tomorrow?” Sergei turned to look at Roderick for answers, but he shrugged just as unknowing as Sergei.
“Pffft, shit.” Nikola laughed loud enough that they could hear her through their own wall. “Well, I’m glad you guys picked up the phone for at least someone. No wonder the chick was freaking out when she finally got ahold of me.”
“What chick?” Sergei started piecing information together in his head, but he stayed calm for Roderick’s sake.
“Caulfield, the new navigator. She found them. We go in on the twelfth.” Nikola spoke as though she was only dedicating half of her attention to the conversation. Sergei guessed she was likely reading—in fact more than likely, rereading mission plans. They were finally going in on the agents they’d turned in just months ago.
“Oh, okay.” Sergei nodded even though Nikola could not see him. “Well, thank you for telling us.” He hung up, carefully planning how he would break the news to Roderick, but Roderick was already growing paler.
“It’s them, isn’t it?” Roderick timidly pulled his sweater back on. “They’ve found them.”
Sergei nodded and joined his partner on the bed, offering out the previously uncapped mini-bottle. “Here, drink this.”
Roderick drank it all in one quick gulp much to Sergei’s surprise.
“All right,” Sergei let out a wheeze. He took Roderick’s empty bottle and got back up, but this time, instead of heading to the mini-fridge, he went to the sink and filled a cup with water. “Now, drink this.”
Seven-Sided Spy Page 18
