Fine. Whatever. I knock back the shot, taking it down like nothing. As soon as I set the cup down, Alek pours three fingers in there. I have to admit, I like it when it is super cold, almost like syrup.
“Okay, why are you mad?”
“I'm tired.”
Alek punches me in the shoulder, a subtle reminder that his protocol is to ask me questions I don't want to answer until it feels like it's a good idea to start wrestling or something. I am so not in the mood for this.
“Roman. Why are you mad?”
If I start talking now, there is some chance he will let me go to bed before dawn. If I try to leave the kitchen, there is 100% chance that he'll decide this is a good moment for some MMA fighting in the living room.
Much as I would like to knock his teeth in right now, we live in a neighborhood. The kind of a neighborhood where people would call the police. The kind of a neighborhood where the Italians are definitely looking for reasons to call the police on me, as a matter of fact.
Which I guess is all part of my problem.
“We should have stayed in Atlanta,” I say simply. He should leave it at that. I want him to leave it at that.
He raises his shoulders and lets them drop helplessly. “Probably,” he admits. “But Stosh called you here. What else were you gonna do?”
“Well, then you should have stayed in Atlanta. You didn’t have to come.”
“Of course I had to come. The fuck are you talking about?”
“Me? Nothing. I'm not talking about nothing.”
We stand there in the dark for a few minutes, just blinking. Just breathing. Was that enough? I pick up the mug and slam the rest of the drink, almost choking on it. It’s a little too much, but now I want to be out here. Unfortunately, the moment I put the cup down, Alek is filling it right back up again.
Shit.
I knew he was not going to stay in Atlanta. We've never been apart for more than a few days. Not since we were born. Tried once, and it was like stretching an elastic band until, snap, we came back together. With a bang, you might say. The sort of bang that left me all fucked-up looking, but him still looking like Prince Fucking Charming.
Go figure.
“Well… Everything in Chicago doesn't suck,” he starts again softly. “Think about it. I mean, so far, everything seems to be working out really —”
“— fucked up,” I finish for him.
“It doesn't have to be fucked up. You could just try, you know. Plenty of guys have wives and stuff like that. You don't have to be all lone wolf about everything.”
“I didn't want a wife, Alek. I didn't want one. You remember that?” I hear my voice getting louder. I don’t want to talk about this, I really don't. Maybe it's the vodka or something. I should just go back to bed now.
“I know you said you didn't want one, Roman. But here we are, man. She's not so bad really. I sort of like her.”
“Yeah, no shit. You sort of like her. You take her then.”
Alek shakes his head. I know he wouldn't do that. That would be just weird. It's just not how we were made, I guess. We’re like two pieces of a puzzle, two halves of the same loaf of bread. We don't work if we’re not together, and I guess I know that. But a third person… Someone so weak, so fragile. This is just going to end in blood, and I know it. I think he knows it too, he just doesn't want to say it.
“Roman, she’s something else. If you would just let yourself, you know, enjoy it…”
“Enjoy what? Putting your life at risk? You know every day that we're together people are watching us, right?”
“No. Every day that you guys are together the Italians calm down a little bit. That's the whole reason this was set up.”
“Idiot!” I bark into the darkness. “That's a lie, don't you know that! This isn’t a peace offering… This is a set up. This is a fucking trap, Alek, can't you see that?”
Alek rocks back. I suddenly realize he really doesn't know that. For all his brains, this one slipped right past him.
“Wait, no… What are you talking about? Roman, are you serious?”
“Okay, I'm not 100% certain,” I admit. “But just think about it for a second. When you asked me if I brought anything back from Atlanta, I know I said no but, what if I did? What happened to Dimi? Does it seem just a little bit strange that there was nobody else around who could make this work? Nobody?”
Alek just hums for a second. That’s the sound that he makes when he is adding up a row of numbers.
“Something's fucked up here,” I continue. “Maybe it's her.”
“What? You can't really think that.”
I shrug. “Why not? You said yourself there seems to be more to her than meets the eye, right?"