Two

Sacha: Still March, still Kansas City

 

Sacha took the next few days off. His knee was aching, and he needed to think without Rick’s constant, irritating presence. He never made hasty decisions, but he felt itchy, like the time was now; if he didn’t change course soon, he might never get the chance again. A bullet, a back alley, a car accident, any of those things and he would never get the chance to live a different kind of life. One he barely allowed himself to dream of.

Spending his time off in his apartment was its own special torture. Home had never meant the same thing for him as it did for most of his colleagues. He didn’t have a wife and kids; he didn’t even have any house plants, had never been in one place long enough to have a pet. Most of his possessions fit inside a few boxes. A half-formed idea had been bouncing around in his head for several months, ever since he had returned from the west coast. A place that felt like it could be home, more than any of the other choices in front of him. It wasn’t Baltimore, Miami, or Kansas City.

Skagit was a small town in western Washington, and it didn’t so much beckon Sacha as lure him. It was a place he could start again, make different choices. Ones that wouldn’t mean he lived his life alone. There were people there he could almost consider friends, or they would be if he made any sort of effort at all.

He spent the first night off flipping through channels, trying to get interested in the spring baseball stats. Baseball was the single sport he remotely enjoyed, and it didn’t hold his interest. The second night, after spending the day cleaning and at the gym, he drove out to a club he’d been to before.

Contrary to popular opinion, there were plenty of gay bars in Kansas City. Sacha preferred the quiet ones. Less chance of seeing anyone he knew, or anyone seeing him. He was too old for disco balls, flashing lights, and twinks wearing jeans so tight they needed a can opener to get them off. And explaining to anyone he worked or associated with that he had always been gay, just never out was… beyond his bandwidth. His stomach twisted painfully as he contemplated his colleagues discussing his personal life behind his back.

He sat at the bar nursing a drink, watching the small crowd of young, and seemingly carefree, men dance and flirt. Sometimes there was a soul brave enough to approach him. Mostly they left him alone.

“Another?” The bartender, tall, with well-defined muscles and heavily tattooed forearms, interrupted Sacha’s wandering thoughts.

“Yeah.” He pushed his empty glass across the bar. “Make it a double.”

The bartender smirked, grabbed the bottle off the back bar, and poured a hefty couple of fingers into Sacha’s glass. “That what you need?” Light-blue eyes lingered on Sacha for a beat longer than necessary, sending a delicious shiver down his spine.

“It’s a start.”

“Long day?”

“Day, week, last couple of years, yeah.” Sacha downed most of the contents of the glass in a single gulp this time. The burn felt good going down his throat. He was still alive, still had choices. He hadn’t left his place with the intention of getting drunk, and he wasn’t, really, but the liquor did make his tongue looser than normal.

The bartender wandered off toward the other end of the bar. Sacha watched him walk away, enjoying the confident swagger… and the view of his ass as well. He was probably in his late twenties or early thirties, dark hair clipped close to his skull. Not something Sacha normally liked, but it worked for this guy, accentuating his sharp cheekbones and deep-set eyes.

Sacha stared into space, sipping his drink and listening to the pop-country-whatever music playing in the background, his attention again caught by the couples dancing fearlessly together. Soon enough the bartender was back in his line of vision.

“I’m Derek.” He leaned against the wooden bartop. His tattoos were colorful and intricate, swirling up his arms before disappearing underneath the tight sleeves of his shirt.

“Sacha.”

“I’m off in an hour.” Derek waggled his eyebrows and winked.

An hour was almost too long. An hour gave Sacha time to reminisce, nearly drowning his desire. An hour gave him time to replay lessons taught to him as a youth. Brutal teachings about what it meant to be a man and what it meant to be slaughtered because of who a person slept with or loved. He hunched closer to the bar, allowing the alcohol he’d consumed to subdue, for now, most of those memories. Only anticipation of another man’s skin and hard body against his own kept him there.

A glittering liquor bottle appeared in his line of sight, and Derek raised his eyebrows in question. “One for the road?”

Sacha tipped his glass slightly. “One more. Thanks.”

 

Everything was easier in the dark. Easier to pretend he was someone else, someone who was out, comfortable with his sexuality. Easier to let himself grab Derek’s ass and pull his hips closer so their erections brushed against each other.

Derek was close to his own height, which turned him on, and not shy about what he was hungry for. Their mouths came together in a bruising kiss; they’d hardly gotten Derek’s front door shut behind them before he pushed Sacha against the entryway wall and rubbed against him, hot hands groping under his T-shirt and skimming his chest and abs. Soon enough they were both naked and making their way to Derek’s bedroom, where a king-sized bed waited.

Long after Derek faded off to sleep, murmuring something along the lines of “S’okay if you stay, man, s’late,” Sacha lay in the dark thinking about his life. About how he would like to wake up next to someone he cared about. It wasn’t going to be a hot bartender, because he couldn’t stay in Kansas City. Any change he forced onto his life would not happen in the city he had tentatively called home for a decade. Rolling over, Sacha felt around on the floor for his jeans and T-shirt and dragged them on over his tired body. He found his shoes in the living room, looked around to make sure he hadn’t left anything behind, and quietly let himself out the front door.

The next morning dawned painfully bright, the sun shining cheerfully through his bedroom windows. Sacha squeezed his eyes shut against the glare before dragging a pillow over his face. Forgetting to draw his curtains was a rookie move. The bedsheets were tangled around his waist; pushing them further away so he could sit up, he swung his legs out of bed. The mattress shifted under his weight. His bad knee twinged when he stood, reminding him, again, how old he felt. How old he was.

His mind was made up. He was retiring. Taking the first steps toward change. Shuffling over to his closet, he searched for the perfect outfit to hand in his resignation.

 

“I can’t change your mind?” The question was half-hearted. Sacha and Ted Tracy had a tumultuous relationship at best, and it hadn’t been improved by Sacha’s inability to keep a partner. Sacha’s old friend and boss Johnny Vallez had retired and moved to Miami while Sacha was on loan to the FBI. Johnny would have tried harder to change Sacha’s mind.

“Nope.” His lips made a popping sound. He didn’t owe Tracy any explanation. Tossing his badge and service weapon on the desk gave him a sharp stab of regret. But that was for the past, not his future. Sacha was tired of regrets.

Tracy leaned back, resting his clasped hands across his belly. “Well, it’s tough to see you go. Good men are hard to find.”

What a complete douche. Mindful of listening ears out in the bullpen, Sacha managed to keep his mouth shut. Instead, he smiled. From Tracy’s reaction, his attempt must have looked more like a grimace. That was that. Sacha quickly emptied his desk into a small cardboard box and took the elevator to the lobby, walking out of the building into the Kansas City morning sunshine.