Fist To The
Heart – Ch. 19
By Laura S. Fox
Copyright © 2019 Laura S. Fox
All Rights Reserved
Gay Erotica
Intended for Mature Audiences Only
This story will contain graphic depictions of
sexual intercourse, strong language and it is not meant for readers who are
less than 18 years of age.
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Chapter Nineteen – I
Never Lose
Johnny woke up to water
being thrown in his face. Again. These dudes needed to
vary their routine a little. They were starting to bore him to death. The
thought made him laugh; he was damned sure it wasn't boredom that would kill
him. His fate was sealed, so the least he could do was laugh about it.
"Why the hell are you
laughing?" Nigel asked him.
"Because I won," Johnny
replied.
His entire body hurt.
Well, soon he wouldn't hurt anywhere, and that, unfortunately, was no
comforting thought.
"Seriously?
You think you won?" Nigel laughed.
Johnny didn't like
that. "Ruslan walked away free. I don't care about
any other shit."
"Really?
Not even your mother? The sick one?"
"Ruslan
will take care of her," Johnny said with conviction.
"What makes you think
we haven't already taken care of her?"
Johnny knew a bluff
when he saw it. The personnel at the sanitarium where his mother was kept had
clear instructions to let him know as soon as something happened. So he just
shrugged. He and Ruslan had only been kidnapped for
half a day at best. It was hard to believe that Nigel had thought Johnny's mom
to be a priority during that time.
"Well, Ruslan won't take care of her, either."
Johnny stared intently
at his enemy, and now he saw no bluff. His insides turned. Could it be that it
had all been in vain? "You promised, you fucking scumbag."
"Well, he walked, but
where, I didn't say, right?" Nigel said with satisfaction, but he put one hand
up to massage his neck.
Johnny felt a bit of
satisfaction at that. But now he could not think of that. "What did you do to
him, asshole?"
"I did promise you that
you will watch him die. Well, maybe I exaggerated a little. Ruslan
Kent is solid gold, so I had to send him somewhere safe. You see, it would be a
shame to kill him, indeed. His papa, his real papa, will pay handsomely to get
him back."
"How come you know of Ruslan's dad? We barely found out today."
"My father dealt in
secrets. This one was one of them. Let's leave it at that. I don't have time to
chitchat."
At least, Ruslan would be okay. Nigel wasn't suicidal, after all.
Johnny waited, trying hard to push down the bile rising in his throat. What a
hero he was.
"Now," Nigel flexed his
fingers, "I believe the moment is ripe to exact my revenge."
Johnny didn't steel
himself for the first blow, or the second. There was no point in acting tough.
"What, no comeback?"
Nigel spat at him.
"I'm tied up, asshole,"
Johnny mumbled, his mouth filled with blood from where his teeth scraped the
inside of his cheek. "Untie me, and I'll show you comeback."
"You'd like that,
wouldn't you?" Nigel made little sense at times. "Want to strangle me? Show me why
you're called Snake?"
"I could've killed
you." Johnny smiled, despite all the pain radiating now from all the places he
had been hit earlier that evening. "Be thankful for Ruslan.
Kill him and prepare for his daddy to make you shish-kebab."
"Well,
all in due time. I'll teach that Russian asshole he
doesn't rule these streets. Now, where was I? Ah, I think I want to tear you
limb from limb. And I mean it literally."
Johnny would have had a
witty comeback to that, but Nigel's goons moved and untied him, only to pull
him to his feet, keeping him so that their boss could hit Johnny in the
stomach.
"You're tickling me,"
Johnny said.
He could not double
over if he wanted, that tightly those assholes were
keeping him. Making Nigel madder was not wise, but this man in front of him was
no calculated killer. He could take long to bring him down. Johnny wasn't sure
he wanted it to last. Getting Nigel to finish him off fast was no cowardice in
his book.
But there was still Ruslan on his mind, and knowing he hadn't saved his lover
was pulling him back. Johnny didn't want to think that there was nothing he
could do now. He knew it to be the truth; maybe he had bought time for Ruslan, and that was all. Yet, knowing also that it wasn't
enough was tearing him apart on the inside much more than anything Nigel could
do to him.
What was that saying,
that hope died last? He had it, and he felt stupid for it. If Ruslan's father caught wind of this, he would rush to save
his son, not him. So no one was coming for him, and he just needed to leave it
at that.
Nigel was breathing
heavily, with each punch. That man was a lightweight. "How is it now, huh? How
is it? Doesn't it hurt?"
"Told ya," Johnny pushed the words through his teeth with
difficulty. "Can't feel a thing."
"Boss, let us deal with
him," one of the goons said.
"No. He's mine! Put him
down. I'm going to break his arms and legs, let's see if he's laughing then."
Johnny pushed against
the two goons trying to put him down. He managed one punch that sent one of
them flying, but the other hit him hard in the temple, making him fall.
And, as he fell, his
imagination chose that very moment to play tricks on him. He could swear he saw
the door fly open and someone coming in. It wasn't Ruslan,
though, coming for him. That would have been weird. He was supposed to be the
hero, not the other way around. Still, it wouldn't have been as weird as seeing
Yanis's face as the last thing he ever saw in his
mortal life.
***
Johnny groaned and
reached for something, without any idea what. He had a vague recollection of
being in and out for a long time, with people in white getting busy around him.
Where the hell was he? Some hospital? That was good
news. It meant he survived.
What about Ruslan? That thought alone was enough to jolt him awake. He
was still disoriented when he opened his eyes, with much difficulty. There was
too much light, and it appeared that he had no use for one eye.
"Man, you look like
shit," he heard someone speaking.
His only good eye found
the person talking. He groaned, trying to say something.
"Here, some water." Yanis hurried to put a glass to his lips. "Don't worry,
you're whole, in case you're wondering. The nurse told me you might have
problems talking, from all the meds you're on. Man, you must be high as a kite
right now."
His tongue was heavy in
his mouth, but he was starting to move it. He pointed at what he felt to be a
missing eye.
Yanis
took the cue. "Just a bit of TLC needed for that one. No major surgery or
anything. Damn, I wish I had been there to see you beat the shit out of all
those assholes."
With some difficulty,
Johnny managed to lift one hand and give Yanis the
finger. Yanis gave him back a toothy grin. "Really,
dude? I carried you bridal style out of there. Anya would kill me if she knew.
That's the only thing she's got over everyone else. At least that's what she
keeps telling me."
Johnny wanted so much
to ask so many things. But one was more important than all the others. He
managed to gesture for the glass of water, and Yanis
helped him to it again. "Ruslan?" he asked, the name of his lover muffled and strange in his
mouth.
Yanis
made a face and looked down. What the hell? Johnny thought. That couldn't be.
It would have been fate's cruelest twist for him to be all right, and Ruslan ... He wouldn't go there. He made an impatient
gesture.
"What can I tell you,
man?" Yanis pushed both hands through his hair. "He
came to watch you every day. Through that window." He
pointed at a side window. "Every day."
"Where is he?" Johnny
asked with difficulty.
"Gone," Yanis said. "To Russia," he added quickly, seeing Johnny waving
desperately.
Johnny breathed out in
relief. As soon as he got better, he would kick the shit out of Yanis. Maybe after kissing him first for
saving his sorry ass, or before. He wasn't particular about the order. "When? Back," he said impatiently.
Yanis
shook his head and looked down again. "I don't know what to tell you, man. He
didn't say."
Johnny felt his blood,
as little as he must have had left, freezing in his veins. Could it be that Ruslan's father decided to grab his son and leave, seeing
how unsafe it was for him where he lived all his life? Johnny now knew he
needed to go to Russia, too, somehow.
"His dad," he said.
Yanis
nodded. "Yeah, the real one. Man, I'm telling you, but
don't tell anyone. I almost shat my pants when I saw that guy. I was just
saving your ass, feeling all heroic and shit, and here he comes."
Johnny made a gesture
for Yanis to continue, seeing how he fell silent.
"From afar, I thought
it was Ruslan. And I was kind of pissed because I
told him to wait outside and get busy calling an ambulance and all that. The
guy comes closer, some scary dudes by his sides, and all, and when I'm about to
talk, he just looks at me and makes me freeze on the spot. Don't worry; I
didn't drop you or anything. Well, I wasn't exactly carrying you in my arms,
what did you think? How much do you weigh? Two hundred pounds
or something?"
Johnny waved one arm
impatiently.
"Anyway.
He just asks, in this foreign accent, where the scumbag is, and I just point at
the door behind me. My boys had been at work before, making that Nigel dude
understand he messed with the wrong people. He was still there, probably
rethinking his life's priorities. So I can't resist, and I leave you to my
mates so that I can go after him. I knew the guy was important, all dressed up
like that and shit. Of course, I was still in shock seeing how much like Ruslan he looked. So I go, and I better didn't."
Yanis
made a small pause, for dramatic effect, or maybe he was indeed, still shaken
just recounting the events. "Johnny, my dude, I'd never seen someone executed
in my life. That's also between you and me. Nigel barely has time to get on his
knees to beg, and goes like `Mr. Petrovsky', and
boom, the guy pulls out a gun and sends a bullet straight through his head from
up close. Then he puts one in his groin. I think I squealed or something. And Ruslan's dad just turns towards me, shrugs and says
something like `sending message'. These exact words.
And he smiles. Can you believe it? He smiles at me while one of his men is busy
taking his gun and the glove from his hand, packing it like it needs to be sent
to dry cleaning or something."
Johnny could not say he
was as surprised as Yanis. Nigel's death meant
nothing to him, anyway. It was only one person he needed to hear about. "Ruslan," he asked again.
Yanis
grimaced as if he was dissatisfied with having his story dismissed like that,
but then reached into his pocket and took out a folded piece of paper. "He
wrote you a letter."
Johnny stood still. His
hand was refusing to take that letter from Yanis.
There was something wrong there. Why would Ruslan
write a letter? Maybe just a phone number so that Johnny could reach him, and
he could have had Yanis transmit that straight to his
phone or something. They had to have phones in Russia, right?
His mind was turning stupid.
Right now, he feared what that letter contained, and that was weird because he
was never afraid.
"Do you want me to read
it to you?" Yanis asked.
The decision was taken
for him. He snatched the letter from Yanis's
stretched hand and hardly resisted to make it a ball into his fist. This wasn't
right or fair. With careful moves, he opened it.
Johnny,
there is no right way to start this, so I'm going to tell you everything that's
been on my mind ever since I watched you, lying on a hospital bed, gone from
the world.
I
broke my promise to your mom. I failed to take care of you. And I acted stupid,
like a spoiled kid when I should have known better.
My
father, yes, my real one, wants me to go with him for a while. I asked him if
he could keep me forever, and he said `yes'.
I
wish I had words to tell you how much I'm sorry about everything. If I hadn't
been so stupid, none of these would have happened. Now Yanis
tells me you're on the mend, so I decided not to come anymore. I would not bear
for you to look at me, knowing what I did. That's the horrible thought I have
to live with for the rest of my days. I promised your mom. And I failed her. And you. There is no nice way to say this. I don't even have
a proper excuse, just that I was pissed at my real father.
I
hope that when you read this letter, you'll say `good riddance' and go back to
your life. Your mom is safe. My father insisted on moving her to another place
where she could get the best care available. Don't worry about a thing; it's
all taken care of. I also left you some money. I hope there's enough until you
get back on your feet. It's all in an account in your name. Yanis
will give you the details, too.
It's
better like this. Without me, you would have never ended up like this, almost
dead, maybe maimed for life. I hate to tell you goodbye, but I could only bring
you pain. I know you don't care to hear this now, at the end of this letter,
but I'll always love you, and I hope you'll meet someone that will make you
truly happy, without ever putting you in harm's way, as I did.
Goodbye,
Johnny. I'll never love again, but that's okay.
Johnny crumpled the
piece of paper into his hands. This could not be. Ruslan
could not do this to him. "Fucking coward," he said through his teeth.
"Yeah.
That's exactly what I told him," Yanis confirmed. "I
knew you would be mad. But he's a stubborn mofo when
he wants to be."
"Do you know his
address in Russia?" Slowly, Johnny gained more and more control over his voice.
Yanis
shook his head. "His dad, the mobster one, wants to be hush-hush about
everything. Or, at least, that's what Ruslan told me.
He also said that he'd get in touch with me, but he didn't say when. Man, I'm
telling you. He broke up with you with a letter, but he broke up with me in
person. And it sucked big time."
Johnny threw Yanis a pointed look.
Yanis
threw his arms to his sides. "As a friend. He broke up
with me as a friend. That's what I meant. Geesh, between
you and Anya, I swear that even if I take a vow of celibacy and become a monk,
you'd still suspect me."
Johnny wished he could
taste Yanis's joke, at this point. But nothing seemed
right, and it didn't look like it would ever be again. His body didn't hurt, or
maybe he couldn't feel it. But there was a claw squeezing his heart hard on the
inside, not letting him breathe.
"Look at the bright
side, man," Yanis said and patted him on one forearm.
"You got me. You can always hang out with my buddies and me."
Johnny just nodded
without even looking at Yanis. His mind was empty.
How could Ruslan do that to him? Why? After all that? After putting his life on the line for him?
How could he?
It was a good thing he
was on meds. He was in the mood to trash the room, and maybe beat up a few
people in the meantime. As he was, he could not do a thing and being so
helpless fucking sucked.
"I'll come to see you
every day," Yanis said.
Johnny waved with one
hand. "Don't bother."
"I promised Ruslan," Yanis replied.
"And?
What's he to you?"
Yanis
cast his eyes down. "Point taken, Johnny. But you're
my friend. Whether you like it or not."
"I don't," Johnny spat,
knowing it wasn't right to take it out on Yanis like
that.
"Tough luck," Yanis said back. "It's enough Ruslan
ran away to Russia. Where are you going to run away?"
Johnny knew Yanis had a point. Hadn't he been so pissed, he would have
seen how right he was. But, right now, Johnny couldn't give a rat's ass about
anything.
Yanis
didn't insist. "I'll come. Until you're released. Then
we'll talk. And maybe we'll find a way to get a hold of Ruslan.
Fuck him. He can't run away from us like that. I know, I know. I should have
tied him up and kept him here until you were good. Then, if he had seen you, he
would not have left you. I thought he was kidding, okay? That
he'll come back."
"Yanis,"
Johnny said. "You talk too damned much."
Yanis
grinned. "I have no idea what to do with scorned lovers."
"For
real? What about Anya?"
"Well, she's a girl. Easier to deal with."
"Why? Because she can't punch your ugly mutt face?"
"If you can tell jokes, that means you're better. I hope you're not pissed I
knew what was in the letter. Ruslan and I don't
exactly have secrets."
"Except
for where he is now."
"Yeah."
Yanis hung his head low. "Except
for that. But hey, it's the twenty-first century. We'll find a way to
get a hold of him."
"Be sure of that,"
Johnny said solemnly. "He's not getting rid of me. Now I need to find a place
to live. And to get back in the ring."
Yanis
threw him an odd look.
"What?" Johnny asked.
"He left you the house.
His. Also, like a ton of money. Well, not a ton, but
plenty. Also, he made me promise I won't let you fight anymore."
Johnnys
crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring the catheter lodged into the back of
his hand. "Isn't he full of it? What will you do?"
Yanis
put his hands up. "I'm not keeping you from doing anything, man. And I told him
you wouldn't listen. Now here's a thought. Maybe we could put you in a ring and
make a fuss. You know; so that they hear it all the way to Russia."
Johnny snorted. "I've
never fought pro."
"So?" Yanis counterattacked. "They have underground fights in
Russia, I bet. Maybe you should go there and make a big name for yourself."
"I thought I was on
meds, not you."
"And I thought people
in love were crazy enough to do any crap crossing their minds."
"That
was your mind crapping. Maybe I still have half a brain,"
Johnny joked.
Yanis
laughed. "I'm glad to see you're okay, man. And I told Ruslan
I'd look after you until he's back. Of course, he gave me a sad, puppy look,
and that was all. I'm still taking care of you."
"Now, watch it, Yanis. I might start making doe eyes at you if you continue
to say sappy stuff like that," Johnny replied.
"Stop it, man." Yanis put his hands up. "I got enough crap from Anya about Ruslan. I promised her I'd be good."
"Sure
thing, man. Just pulling your
leg."
"Aren't you in a good
mood?" Yanis grinned.
"I got an idea. I'll see
to it. Also, yours wasn't half bad."
"Which
one? I'm full of them." Yanis
puffed out his chest.
"You'll know at the
right time. And say, did he really leave me a lot of cash?"
"I think you'll be able
to live on that for about twenty years if you splurge. Like forty if you don't.
He practically sold everything and left it to you."
"That's a bit crazy,"
Johnny said.
Yanis
shrugged. "I thought he wanted to sell his kidneys to leave you more money."
"Good thing he didn't.
I like him whole."
"I bet you do." Yanis was wiggling his eyebrows.
"You're so damned lucky
I'm like this. I'd kick your ass for this," Johnny threatened, but without one
ounce of bite in that.
"Just get well,
asshole," Yans said, and Johnny could swear he was
quite affectionate while saying that.
"I will, fucker,"
Johnny replied in kind.
If Ruslan
thought he would just accept crappy goodbyes, he was damned wrong, Johnny
thought, as he watched Yanis leave. Well, he needed
to rest a little, but, after that, he would move his ass and find Ruslan. And when he found him, he would take him back, and
get him to keep all his promises.
***
Ruslan
sat at the table, the laughter and conversations around him muffled by the fact
that he could not understand a thing. They didn't speak a lot of English in
that house, although the oldest son, Sergei, was quite versed in it, as he had,
apparently, a passion for foreign languages, and even had a home tutor.
To say that he felt
unwelcomed there would have been a lie. Ruslan's mind
had been in turmoil for the past weeks, and his decision to leave Johnny and
everything he knew behind was still tormenting him. He would not go back,
seeing how stupid he was and what kind of mess he could cause just by acting
recklessly, but that didn't mean that he didn't miss Johnny like crazy.
His father's wives, two
of them, as he learned, had been pleased to see him, which had taken him
completely by surprise. There was a warm atmosphere in that large mansion,
despite the cold outside, and most of his silblings
had been quite taken with him. Apparently, the fact that he looked so much like
his biological father had made him an instant hit with them.
They were all going
over backward to make sure he felt at home, so Ruslan
felt guilty for being so gloomy all the time. Sergei had been quite interested
in talking to him, and the three girls who Ruslan
still had troubles telling them apart, as two were twins and the other was
close to their age, had hinted, apparently, to their father that he should
become a fashion model. There was a lot of passion for fashion in the family,
mainly manifested by the female part, which was the majority, so the girls
really had a mind to drag him to some fashion shows where he could be scouted.
His father, of course,
simply suggested that he could introduce Ruslan to
the right people, but he had said `no'. Seeing how disappointed his sisters
were made him feel guilty twice. He had told everyone that he would prefer to
continue his work in the field he chose, that of accounting. Vladimir had told
him there were many things he could do, but, for now, just to enjoy being part
of a big, happy family.
Ruslan
had heard from Yanis about Nigel's death, but he
could not bring himself to care. The fact that Vladimir could be a cold-blooded
killer made it obvious why his grandfather had chosen to keep his real identity
a secret.
That didn't mean he was
over it. Not that he could blame Douglas of anything, in hindsight. He was in
no position to blame anyone of anything. Because of him, the love of his life
had been in real danger, and only fate made it possible that Johnny didn't die,
and Yanis got there in time. And
his father.
He sighed and placed
his chin in his palm, without touching his food. Vladimir was watching him from
across the table. Ruslan took his elbows from the
table and grabbed his fork. There was no point in bringing everyone down with
his melancholy.
After dinner, he chose
the large balcony overlooking a dense forest, to nurse a drink and allow himself to be lost in thought. He was fiddling with his
glass.
"You truly are mine,"
he heard Vladimir talking.
Ruslan
half turned.
Vladimir pointed at his
glass. "You like vodka."
Ruslan
smiled. He couldn't bring himself to laugh. Not yet. Or maybe
not ever. "I guess I should have wondered why I prefer it over other
drinks."
Vladimir leaned against
the balustrade and looked him in the eyes. The powerful lights illuminating the
balcony, and the backyard made it easy to read into his father's eyes all he
wanted to say.
Ruslan
pretended not to see it. "When do you think I can start working? I know
language is a barrier, but you promised you'd bring in a tutor. I guess numbers
are the same in any language, though."
Vladimir shook his head
slowly. "Not yet."
Ruslan
sighed. "Don't you want to save me from a life on the catwalk? My sisters are
clearly bent on seeing me strut around, dressed up in fancy getups."
Vladimir laughed. "My
first born is very handsome. Everyone should see that."
"Well, let's just say
that this type of life is not something I'm cut for," Ruslan
said dryly, but with the hint of a smile.
Any compliment coming
from his father made his heart swell with pride. He wanted to keep himself from
doing that, but Vladimir had showered him with his love every minute they
shared. It was hard to remain gloomy and brooding when he was loved like that.
"Dad," Ruslan said, "about that night, when my mother ran away ...
Do you know why she didn't come to you?"
Vladimir looked away.
That had to be a painful memory, but Ruslan wanted to
find out. "Your mother, Ruslan, was a very proud
creature. I've never met one like her. All fire, not a drop of ice. She was
almost ten years younger than me, you know? But I could not get her out of my
head."
Ruslan
nodded. He was avid to hear everything about his mother.
"She knew a lot of
people. Strange people," Vladimir said and waved like he wanted to chase away
flies. "From her mother's side."
"My grandmother," Ruslan added. "That's weird. How come Douglas could have a
daughter? He was married to Martin, as you know."
Vladimir shrugged. "It
happened when Douglas was very young. Maybe he was confused," he said with a
small laugh. "But I'm glad he was. Because that's how he had Melanie, and
that's how I have you, now, with me."
"What about those
strange people you're telling me about?" Ruslan
asked.
"They were like this."
Vladimir rubbed his chin in thought. "Like circus people. But
with shows on stage. How do they say that? Burlesque," he added,
gesturing slowly, while images of a past life must have danced in front of his
eyes.
"They were
entertainers?"
"Yes, never in the same
place twice. That was your grandmother, too. When she died, she sent Melanie to
Douglas."
"And how come Douglas
accepted her? Just like that?"
"Your grandfather was a
gentleman, Ruslan. He knew he screwed around with
your grandmother. The moment fit with Melanie's age. I don't think he ever
thought she wasn't his. Or maybe that lawyer of his made sure to find out the
truth."
"How could he keep it
from me?"
Vladimir sighed and put
one arm around Ruslan's shoulders. "He didn't like
me, son. He was right," he added and smiled. "I was a bad boy. Who would want
that as a son in law?"
"Did you want to get
married to my mother?"
"Of course I did. But
she ran away. We fought a lot. But we always made up. Until
that last time."
"So she ran to those
people her mother knew?"
"I think so."
"But I don't
understand. Didn't you or papa ... sorry, my grandfather, think of that?"
"We did. But there are
people in the world like sand. Like water." Vladimir made a gesture to
exemplify his words. "You can't catch them. They don't have an address. Melanie
knew how to find them. We didn't."
"So she remains lost? Forever?" Ruslan asked, hating the
small tremble in his voice.
"I had high hopes I'd
find her, too, once I heard of you. But the old man knew nothing of her."
"Did you talk to him? To Douglas?"
"Yes. He wasn't happy
to see me. He told me he'd give you everything to the last cent if I just
stayed away."
Ruslan
frowned. "What? When was that?"
Vladimir thought for a
moment. "I guess it was not long before he died."
Ruslan
could feel his temples throbbing. "Wait ... I mean, how come someone like Nigel
knew of you, too?"
Vladimir raised his
shoulders and then let them fall. "Words fly."
"And why didn't you
stay away? Didn't you promise my grandfather?"
"I told him this. That he can't keep me away."
"And what did he say
then?"
"Ah, let's see. He said
that he'd do anything if I just left you alone. So I told him that only if he
died and left you everything, I'd know that he took better care of you than I
could."
Ruslan
put one hand over his chest.
"What's wrong, son? Are
you ill?" Vladimir asked.
"But you didn't
listen," Ruslan said, his eyes now swimming in tears.
Vladimir pulled him
close into his arms. "How could I do that? My son belongs to me."
Ruslan
wanted to be angry. His father's logic was too simple, and that was why it was
scary. Could it be that his grandfather ... He could not go there. No matter what
his heart was telling him, he could not think of such things.
"It was not his place
to give you everything. That's my duty," Vladimir said and pointed at himself
while still keeping Ruslan close with one arm.
Ruslan
rested his head against his father's shoulder. Even if he was tall, he was
still a tad shorter than Vladimir, so it was easy to do that. It was so strange
to seek solace in such a strange, apparently cold man, but if he had learned
something while staying there was that he could trust his father with
everything. And Vladimir was a different man to his family. His children had
his love. Even both his wives, no matter how weird that was. Legally, he was
only bound to one. But he had managed to bring a second woman in the family,
and her children and they did live happily together.
Ruslan
knew this was something he had craved all his life. Vladimir was doing
everything in his power to compensate. And yet, he still longed for his grandfather's
love. He still missed Yanis and his friendship. And
he still missed Johnny. His life hadn't turned as bad as he thought, and now,
that he had the basis for comparison, Ruslan realized that he had been happy.
It would have been
ungrateful of him to reject Vladimir's love. His place wasn't there, yet, he
needed to fit.
And now, that Vladimir
had told him about the conversation between him and Douglas, Ruslan had reasons to believe his grandfather's passing
away hadn't been an accident, after all. He needed answers, and he needed to
find them without going back if that was possible.
"Do you think I can
make a phone call?" He asked Vladimir while wiping away his tears.
"Sure," Vladimir
replied. "You don't have to ask for my permission. You're old enough," he added
with a smile.
Ruslan
smiled back. "Aren't you going to ask me who I want to call?"
"It's outside the
country, I presume," Vladimir said and nodded like he understood everything. "I
am curious. But I respect your privacy."
"Thank you, dad," Ruslan said simply.
It was nothing more
rewarding than seeing Vladimir's eyes lighting up when Ruslan
called him that. Ruslan had thought that it would be
phony, and it would ring false, but he had taken to it right away. He didn't
feel like calling his father by his name. Only calling him `dad' sounded true,
and that was what it was.
***
Johnny waited patiently
for a secretary in a pencil skirt to let him into the lawyer's office. Mr.
Young was seated behind his desk and was watching Johnny without a hint of
surprise on his face. "What can I help you with today, Mr. Bryne?"
Johnny took the seat
offered. "I would like to contact Martin Hoffman if that's possible, sir."
Mr. Young seemed to
ponder over his reply for a little bit. "May I inquire what for?"
"That's private, sir,"
Johnny replied.
"Hmm," the lawyer said
in a non-committal tone. "I am in no obligation to you or someone else to
provide such details."
"His old phone number
is no longer in service," Johnny insisted. "I need to talk to him. He's not dead,
too, I hope."
Mr. Young rested one
cheek into his palm and looked at Johnny for a while. Johnny didn't waver under
his scrutinizing gaze. "No, he's not dead."
"Then I would like his
number, sir."
"You're a stubborn
young man," Mr. Young commented.
"I'll take that as a
compliment," Johnny replied politely. "I really need Martin's number."
"Ruslan
Kent left you almost everything he inherited from his grandfather. Isn't that
enough?" The lawyer inquired.
"It's not money I
want," Johnny said. "What I want is answers."
"That's what we all
want," Mr. Young replied. "Answers are sometimes more expensive than most
things."
"So you must know
something," Johnny said. "You wouldn't tell me this otherwise."
The lawyer laughed and
shook his head. He took off his glasses. "I think you want to ask Martin about Ruslan and how to get in touch with him. You believe that
he still left one loose thread behind and that must be Martin."
"With all due respect,
sir, Martin was like a father to Ruslan. Maybe he
doesn't want to have anything to do with me, but he wouldn't do the same with
Martin."
Mr. Young nodded.
"There's good logic behind your argument."
"Thank you, sir,"
Johnny replied.
"It is my knowledge,
however, that, at best, Martin could send a message to Ruslan,
but not talk directly."
"That's enough," Johnny
said, feeling stubborn and more and more in the mood to strangle the lawyer in
front of him a little, to make him spit Martin's number.
"Johnny," Mr. Young
said in a voice that almost sounded paternal, "why are you so bent in getting
in touch with Ruslan? I know you two were to get
married, but you're young, and you have your entire life in front of you."
"You were close to the
late Mr. Kent, right?" Johnny asked.
The lawyer nodded in
reply.
"So maybe you know how
serious Ruslan and I were," Johnny added.
"Douglas told me, yes.
But I still keep to my point, and tell you that you're young and there could be
others."
"Well, I don't know
your life, sir, but I know for me there can't be others," Johnny said with
conviction.
Mr. Young's eyebrows
shot up in a bit of surprise combined with amusement, and then his face
relaxed. "I have been a man of the law all my life. I guess it's easy to judge
things and find the shortest way out while trying to keep to the client's
interests. But sometimes what a client wants may not be what's best for him. I
told Douglas so many times to tell Ruslan about his
parents. Now, look where that got him."
Johnny frowned. He
could tell there was something there he was missing at the moment.
"Never
mind." Mr. Young waved. "This time only I will follow my gut
instinct, not what my client wants," he added mysteriously. He reached for an
elegant golden pen and wrote something on a piece of paper. "Here is the
number. I hope it will help you get the answers you seek."
"Thank you, sir,"
Johnny said politely and got on his feet.
There was no point in
taking more of the man's time, and he had plenty of stuff to do anyway. He
studied the piece of paper on his way out and then folded it. He was about to
put it into his pocket when he noticed something written on the back. Reading what was there brought his feet to a
stop. He turned, wanting to ask the secretary if he could see Mr. Young again,
but strangers were entering the room, clearly having an appointment with the
lawyer. Johnny decided he didn't need anything more, anyway. There, he had
everything he needed to know.
***
Johnny watched Martin
walk into the café and search him with his eyes. He didn't need to do anything
to draw his attention, as the man noticed him right away.
"How have you been,
Johnny?" Martin asked, offering him a small smile.
"That's what I should
be asking," Johnny replied. "You took off, apparently."
Martin didn't offer a
reply to that. He studied the cup of coffee in front of him, his face giving
nothing away.
"I need to get in touch
with Ruslan," Johnny said bluntly.
Martin wasn't a man for
subtleties, and neither was Johnny.
"That's not possible."
"And I say it is,"
Johnny said, his voice a bit strained.
Martin sighed and
looked at him.
"How long have you been
together with Douglas?" Johnny asked.
Even the imperturbable
butler manifested a small sign of surprise at that, his eyebrows shooting up
almost hard to notice, but enough for Johnny who was watching the other like a
hawk.
"Let's see," Martin
seemed to ponder, "maybe close to thirty-seven years?"
"And are you still
counting?" Johnny leaned over the table and stared Martin into his eyes.
This time, Martin made
no effort to control his surprise. "Mr. Young," he said, and his shoulders
slumped.
"Yeah," Johnny said. "I
thought it was all weird. Will you help me get a message to Ruslan?"
"Ruslan
can't know." Martin's eyes were sad now.
"Okay," Johnny
admitted. "Not my place to tell him. But I need him to hear me out."
Martin nodded. "All right. What do you want me to tell him?"
Johnny smiled. And
then, he started talking.
***
"Ruslan,
it's good to hear your voice," Martin said, as soon as he answered the phone.
"Hi, Martin," Ruslan replied and felt his heart getting smaller.
"That's such a strange
coincidence. I also wanted to send you a message."
"Oh," Ruslan said. "What about?"
"Johnny." In his usual
manner, the former butler was curt.
Ruslan
gripped the phone tightly. "Is he okay?"
"He took up fighting
again."
Ruslan
cursed. "That's got nothing to do with me," he chose to lie.
"He's killing himself."
"W-what?" he stammered.
"What do you mean?"
"You can stop him. Not
anyone else."
"Johnny's not my
problem anymore," Ruslan said, his voice catching in
his throat.
Martin met his decision
with silence.
"I called you for a
reason," he added. "Martin, I need to know more about papa's death."
Martin remained silent
again.
"Martin," Ruslan called, unsure whether the other was still on the
line or not.
"I am here. Come back, Ruslan, and we'll talk."
Martin was the first to
cut the conversation. Ruslan sat down slowly as he
put the phone away. Like on cue, his father walked into the room.
"Ruslan,"
Vladimir started. "What's wrong?"
"I," Ruslan put one hand over his chest, "no, it's nothing."
"It's not nothing," Vladimir replied. "Come here. Let's talk a
little."
Ruslan
followed his father and sat next to him on a sofa. Vladimir took him by the
shoulders and used the other hand to brush away a few strands of hair from Ruslan's forehead.
"You're thinking of
him. Bodyguard," Vladimir said simply.
Ruslan
moved his head away.
Vladimir continued. "I
loved your mother. More than all my wives. Don't tell
them." He chuckled. "They might strangle me in my sleep. But I let my pride get
in the way, and she ran away. I never found her again. She was proud, too. But so beautiful. Like an angel. I lost her, and she never
came back. I lost you, too, for so many years, because of that."
Ruslan
cast his eyes down.
"You're melting like a
candle here. You're so thin. Go back to your bodyguard. When you need me, call
me. Come see me. I'll always be here. And I won't forgive you if you don't
visit." Vladimir wagged the finger at him playfully. "Come. Let's plan your
trip back."
Ruslan
wanted to have the courage to protest. But Martin had called him, too, and now
he had a reason, other than running back to Johnny, to leave his new found
family.
***
The youngest son,
Giorgi, was the only one who hadn't embraced Ruslan
as the rest of the family. Ruslan thought it strange
to find the twelve-year-old watching him from the threshold to his room. Giorgi
was looking like his father more than Sergei and his sisters.
Somehow, Ruslan understood why Giorgi
didn't like him. He must have been his father's favorite, being the youngest.
His position must have been threatened, in his childish mind, the moment Ruslan had come through the door. Suddenly, his doting
father had another son to care about.
"Are you here to help
me pack?" he asked, seeing that Giorgi didn't enter.
The boy pretended not
to understand, frowning, and standing there, not moving one inch. Ruslan knew from Sergei that Giorgi could understand plenty
of English, and even spoke it a little.
Instead of replying
something in Ruslan's known language, he mumbled
something in Russian. By the boy's stance and body language, Ruslan could tell it couldn't be something pleasant. He
shrugged and turned to his task at hand.
An angry reply in
Russian to Giorgi's words followed, and Ruslan turned
only to witness Sergei slapping his little brother upside the head. Giorgi
turned to fight Sergei, but it was clear that he was no match for the
seventeen-year-old. Sergei told him something in a stern voice. Soon, Giorgi
was running away, crying.
"Forgive our brother,"
Sergei said in almost perfect English accent. "He's a brat."
"There's nothing to
forgive," Ruslan replied with a smile. "I still don't
understand any Russian, so he could sit there and curse me until he turned blue
and I would still not be offended."
Sergei laughed. Unlike
his brother, he looked nothing like Vladimir. It was obvious that he took more
after his mother, and his green eyes shone with intelligence. He was a good
looking teenager, but Ruslan had been taken more with
his personality, a bit mature for his age.
"So you're going?"
Sergei asked, entering the room. "Do you need any help?"
"I suppose I'm done
with everything."
"I'll miss you," Sergei
said.
Ruslan
turned toward his brother. "I guess I'll miss you, too. All
of you. Even Giorgi," he added with a small laugh. "You have an
incredible family here."
"It's your family,
too," Sergei replied. "Don't forget that. And don't worry about Giorgi. He'll
come around."
"Just out of curiosity,
what did you tell him that he began crying like that?" Ruslan
asked.
"Ah, I told him that he
has his mother, and sisters, and me, and father, while you had nothing most of
your life. And that I'll tell his mother of his behavior."
"Is he scared of her
much?" Ruslan shook his head with mirth. Sergei was
too good to take his side like that.
"He'll be in for a
scolding if I tell on him. I won't. But he needs to understand that you are our
brother, too."
"I'm glad for that. I
really am," Ruslan replied.
"So why are you
leaving? Father won't say," Sergei said.
"I'm going to try to
make some things right. Also, tie some loose ends, I hope."
"Will you be back
soon?"
Ruslan
stopped for a while, thinking over what to say. "I don't know," he chose to go
with honesty.
Sergei sat on the bed.
"It was nice to have someone close to my age in this house. Now I'm left with
the kids again."
"Dad says you'll start
attending university next year. I believe you'll have plenty of grownups around
then to start missing the kids," Ruslan said.
"Do you think that's
possible? To miss these brats?" Sergei grinned.
"I guess so. They're
good kids, by what I can tell."
"Yeah, good thing you
don't know any Russian." Sergei bounced a little on the bed. "You would have
run away screaming by now."
"Except for Giorgi, do
I have anyone else to worry about?" Ruslan asked,
laughing.
"I guess you would
start feeling embarrassed about how much the girls are gushing over you."
"I know," Ruslan replied with a small sigh. "They're all hell-bent on
seeing me a model."
Sergei snorted. "Not
only that. They want to marry you."
"Marry me?" Now Ruslan was surprised.
"Yeah.
So that you won't be so sad anymore. Well, father
didn't tell them anything about how you like guys."
Ruslan
looked at Sergei. Could that be a problem with people in that family? "And he
told you?"
Sergei shook his head.
"I just noticed how you look at some pictures on your phone. I wasn't peeking.
It happened."
"Is it awkward or
uncomfortable for you that I'm gay?" Ruslan asked.
"Would it be for others around here?"
Sergei shook his head.
"No. Not for me, or others. But the girls might start to ship you with some
famous guys."
"Ship me?" Ruslan asked, a
bit surprised.
"Don't ask." Sergei rolled his eyes. "You have no idea how
much slash fanfiction these girls are into. Of
course, father knows nothing. He would tell them to study more instead of doing
that all day long."
"Why didn't dad say a
thing?" Ruslan questioned.
Sergei shrugged. "He's
a private man. Most of the time, he assumes so is anyone else. It is hilarious
how he talks to each of us and thinks that we're sharing some big secrets. Not
everyone is as mysterious as him."
Ruslan
could understand that. It was obvious why Vladimir didn't want his family to
know about his dealings. Maybe his wives knew, but the kids were clearly kept
in the dark. Then, it struck him; that was one secret he shared with his
father. Seeing what the secret was, it shouldn't have been a cause for feeling
warm inside, the way he felt, but that was how things were.
"Thank you for telling
me this, Sergei. I really do appreciate it."
Sergei nodded solemnly.
"Are you going back to that guy? The one in the pictures on
your phone?"
Ruslan
smiled. "You said you weren't peeking."
Sergei looked away, a
bit embarrassed. "I guess I was a little surprised and I looked a little more."
"It's okay. I don't
mind," Ruslan replied.
Sergei got to his feet
and came to embrace him. It was a bit unusual to have so many people interested
in what he was doing, what he was thinking, and who he was thinking of.
Apparently, it came with the territory in a big house like that, with so many siblings.
"Just don't forget that
you have us, too," his brother said.
"How come you're not
jealous of me, like Giorgi?" Ruslan asked with a
rueful smile.
"I am old enough to
understand that father loves us all the same. Well, maybe not the same. Giorgi
is such a brat for a reason, and I do think father is to blame since he loves
him so much."
"You're a pretty smart
kid, Sergei."
"Hey, I'm going to
university next year. You can't call me a kid."
Ruslan
laughed and shook his head. "I must admit you are different from what I was
imagining. All of you."
"Different
in a good way, right?" Sergei cocked his head to the side
and grinned.
"Definitely in a good
way," Ruslan said with determination.
Sergei seemed more than
pleased with that reply and left the room whistling a happy tune. Ruslan could tell that he would miss everyone a little, and
maybe even a little more.
***
"Man, I thought we were
just pretending, you know? Spread some rumors and that," Yanis
protested, as soon as they got out of the car.
"And what's wrong with
a little action?" Johnny shrugged. "Plus, I need to stay in shape."
"In
shape? I bet Ruslan would like
to have you back with all your internal organs in place," Yanis
said, with a snort.
"Have I lost a fight so
far?" Johnny asked. "And don't worry, Ruslan likes me best like this. I need to remind him of who
I am."
"Just when I was hoping
you'd start overeating and become fat and unattractive," Yanis
joked.
"Yanis,
tell Anya that she can start braiding your hair. That's chicks' talk," Johnny
said back.
"What? Is my hair too
long?" Yanis pushed his fingers through his hair.
Johnny shook his head.
"And you're supposed to be the straight dude?"
Yanis
punched him in the shoulder. "Shut up and fight, Snake. Don't lose, `cause I bet a ton of money on you."
"Don't worry. I never
lose," Johnny said, as he sprinted up the stairs into the building in front of
them.
TBC
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