RHO

 

 I shouldn’t have had so much to drink. I probably would have stayed outside Marcus’s house for another hour. Good whiskey was the reason I was still alive, or I might have found no reason to keep going every day.

Marcus’s sitting room was intimidating as always, and the minute I sat on one of those seats, I felt like I could finally feel relaxed. Even if it was mostly the plush sofa, I felt welcome.

It took him about forty-five minutes, but Marcus finally appeared. He looked happy to see me, so I guess a good start. “Would you like a drink?” he offered.

‘“No, thanks I’ve had enough in the car.”

He smiled. “Needed some liquid courage, huh?”

“I suppose.”

“Rho, look, this doesn’t have to change anything. You’re still important to me, more than you know. And I don’t just mean your business strengths.”

“Perhaps one more drink might not be such a bad idea.”

Marcus grinned and stood to walk toward the coffee table to pour us both some bourbon. He brought me one and sat down with me. “So, what’s bothering you, kid?”

I swallowed. “I could have used a heads up about Krakovski.”

“Rho, I would never put you through that if I didn’t have pressure from the Superiors. You know this. You realize this issue is just as close to me, as it was to you. Adam is my family.”

I noticed the tenses he used. Past for me, and present for himself. I had to down a hefty amount of burning liquid to be able to talk again. “Look, something happened tonight,” I began. “Something that got me thinking about...Adam.”

Marcus showed no emotion. “What happened?”

I was about to launch into the details of the incident with Brandon, but I thought better of it. I decided it was better to think about it with a clear head first. “It’s not important,” I ended up saying.

“Are you sure?”

I nodded and launched into the reason for my visit. “Marcus, I don’t want to be that guy, get pissed off every time you see an ex,” I realized it was the first time I used that word for Adam and I hated it. I wouldn’t have used it, if I didn’t have the pressure of getting Marcus to agree. “I just want to be able to see him without things getting awkward.”

At first, he was expressionless. I couldn’t tell if he was about to break my nose, or get up and give me a hug. I had come prepared for both scenarios, so it was a complete surprise when he started smiling. “You’ve convinced me,” he said. “But I’ll try to convince Adam. We’ll have to see what he thinks about it.”

“I need to see him.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little inappropriate? Coming to our home at this hour and asking to see my partner?”

Partner. Our home.

“Marcus, it’s not what you think,” I tried to explain. “I have this...feeling. I don’t know. I just can’t shake it off. I need to see him. I need to make sure.”

“Are you positive you’re not using this feeling as an excuse to see him again?”

“Of course not! If I see him, it will—”

“Rho,” Marcus interrupted me. “He doesn’t want to see you.”

The words hung in the air like toxic fumes and they burned. They seared my skin and scorched my heart into blackness. I felt like there was a weight on my chest that would bury me.

I just want to see him.

Please.

One last time.

“He doesn’t want to see you.”

I finished the drink and set the glass down on the table, even though I wanted to smash it against the wall, and then I stood. “Well, I’ll be leaving then.”

Marcus stood and gave me a hug. “I’m sorry things went this way. I’ll talk to him. Just let me ease him into it. Right now, he’s too fragile. He gets easily upset. You have to realize this was hard on him too.”

I broke away from him and smiled. “I’m glad he has someone who worries about him,” I said. “I would kill to have someone like that.”

He didn’t say anything as I said goodbye and reached into my breast pocket for the flask I set aside for emergencies. The more I drank the more strength I had to keep walking. The alcohol silenced some of my thoughts and I could function. But nothing could take away the sting of Marcus’s words.

“He doesn’t want to see you.”

I stopped midway through getting to my car and turned to the house. The second-floor terrace was Marcus’s bedroom. That’s where Adam was now, watching TV in his shorts, or waiting to get in bed with Marcus.

The hurt never stopped.

I turned my back to the house, and kept walking.

I drank more. “Goodbye, Adam.”