Act Sixteen
Baylee Wright
The Masquerade uses their third-floor conference rooms for banquets, family reunions, conventions, and apparently sexual harassment seminars, set-up purely for the seven of us.
We’ve been sitting on uncomfortable fold-out chairs, facing a blank projector screen, for about an hour now. Geoffrey emailed and said the lecturer was running late. And apparently so is Luka.
“It’s all a lie,” Zhen theorizes between Brenden and me.
“Geoffrey wants us to sit in silence,” Brenden agrees.
“We’re in time-out.”
“No one is coming.”
I stand up, needing to walk around and to mentally separate myself from Brenden and Zhen. My temples pound and my stomach growls. None of us had time to grab food, and it’s already 8 p.m.
I did spare a second to snatch my journal from my bunk.
Even though I’m slightly terrified, I’m giving my list to Luka tonight. No welching. No backing out at last minute. I’ve cemented my decision in my mind.
My palms sweat the longer he’s absent. I slide down the gold wallpaper and sit on the cream carpet, journal clutched tight. I worry that Luka won’t show up and it’s some grand sign from the universe. Telling me that I’m not supposed to reach out to him.
Yelling at me to stop.
I swallow hard and observe my surroundings. Sergei sleeps upright on his chair next to a preoccupied Dimitri who texts on his phone.
Thora reads a paranormal romance novel, and her scowl withdraws when she casts smiles to the door. In the squared window, I spot the outline of her tall boyfriend pacing back and forth. Nikolai has been outside for five minutes, waiting for this to end too.
“Maybe we should feel badly,” Zhen suddenly says from the front row. “We laughed at something inappropriate. We embarrassed our choreographer.”
Dimitri pockets his cell. “You better be joking.”
“I’m not.” Zhen turns partially around. “I can’t expect you to understand, but we are in the wrong. Whether we put together the prank or not.”
Brenden thinks about this. “Zhen’s probably right.”
Dimitri leans back. “And what’s that supposed to mean, Zhen? I can’t understand? Understand what? Sexual harassment? If this is about Baylee’s juggling balls, we’ve been here. She doesn’t care what I call them. I asked.”
I don’t want to take sides in fights that have already ended years ago. Or at least, they were supposed to end.
“This seminar could help everyone,” Thora chimes in, trying to mediate. “I mean, it could be fun? Who knows…?”
Dimitri gives her a once-over. “Fun? Does the chair and the floor excite you too?”
“Dimitri,” Zhen says with the shake of his head.
“I said excite, not arouse.” Dimitri outstretches his arms, but off of Zhen’s stone-cold disapproval, his defenses lower. “Fine. I’ll take the seminar seriously.”
“Thank you.”
My mind reels, and from the floor, I end up saying, “You know who should’ve been called into one of these seminars? Kirk Evans.”
The second I let loose Kirk’s name, Luka saunters inside the conference room. He carries three to-go bags with a bright red Retrograde logo, an Elvis-themed diner inside the Masquerade.
“Who’s Kirk Evans?” Sergei yawns, waking up.
Luka holds my gaze as he nears the cluster of metal chairs. So much is buried beneath that single look—I can’t even uncover all the sentiments. My chest falls in a shallow breath.
“A dick,” Dimitri says curtly.
“What’d he do?” Thora asks. She’s really new to AE and hasn’t been around for the huge drama.
Luka is almost invisible to everyone. He sets down two to-go bags on an empty chair. I have trouble watching anyone else but him.
As the air conditioning kicks in, Brenden zips up his windbreaker, and he answers, “Kirk ‘jokingly’ opened shower curtains on girls.”
“No,” Sergei says, disbelieving.
“Yeah.” Brenden nods. “And he thought it’d be funny to slap all of their asses before opening night.”
Including mine.
Luka looks at me again. Noticing me staring. He actually…he starts to walk over. I sit up straighter, knees bent.
Thora scowls. “Kirk was fired then?”
The room tenses.
“No,” Zhen replies. “He was transferred to Montreal.”
“Last I heard,” Brenden says, “he got a raise.”
Aerial Ethereal might’ve done little to nothing, but Kirk did get decked in the face—by none other than Dimitri Kotova. He doesn’t unearth that fact. He’s competitive when it comes to Nikolai, but with other things, Dimitri doesn’t really ask for praise.
A few feet away from me, Luka glances back at the others. “Hey, I brought food.”
Dimitri reaches for a bag. “Thank God.”
Brenden glares. “Stolen?”
“Greasy?” Zhen wonders, plucking a second bag.
“Receipt’s inside, and it’s mostly grilled chicken and vegetables.”
If he were anyone else, Brenden would immediately say thank you but a painful, awkward second passes. Luka doesn’t acknowledge me until Zhen hands Brenden a to-go container and inspects the contents. My brother finally nods to Luka in appreciation.
Just like that, they all start eating and their irritations about Luka’s tardiness vanishes. His generosity goes a long way.
I’d say it was all a ploy, but he probably would’ve brought food regardless of being late.
Without a word, like this is as common as any other day, Luka sits right beside me.
Knees bent, leaning against the wall. We’re so close that I see the rise and fall of his chest when he breathes.
I inhale. His shampoo must be citrusy, but he smells mostly like peppermint candy. It’s a scent that I want to lean into, but I’m afraid to risk it in front of Dimitri.
His cousin is eyeing us a little, but he’s mostly busy eating.
I watch Luka open his paper to-go bag. He pulls out candy boxes of Swedish Fish, Hot Tamales, and then a can of original Pringles. Lastly, he hands a plastic container to me.
I put my journal on my lap and grip the container. Snapping the lid open, my heart skips.
He bought me a grilled cheese.
I’m floored for a second. That he remembered how much I like grilled cheese, especially after my dad died. That he thought about me when he ordered.
My throat closes. I don’t think I’ll ever find someone like him. The thought devastates me, but I’m also just happy to have this moment. Torn. I wonder if I’ll always be torn when I’m near him now.
“Thanks,” I say quietly.
Luka nods and pops a can of Fizz Life. Gently, he tilts his head towards me and speaks hushed so no one else can hear. “You’ll tell me if I overstep or anything? The line’s kind of…fuzzy.” The intensity of his gray eyes pummel me. It’s like he’s asking if I’m okay with him moving closer in my life or if it’s too uncomfortable for me. Wondering if I’m scared.
I am scared.
I’m terrified, but I want more of him. So much. “Yeah,” I say, breathless. “Actually, I need to ask you—”
“Hey, you two,” Dimitri calls us out loudly and makes a gesture that means separate.
All eyes plaster onto us, and the chatter dies down. I reluctantly pick myself off the floor and carry my grilled cheese and journal.
Luka follows.
When I sink beside my brother, he shakes his head at me.
“What?” I whisper with a shrug. I could cry. I’m just…I hate this. I hate lying to Brenden, and I hate that he believes the worst about Luka. To the point where I can’t even sit next to him without seeming weak and disloyal.
I lose my appetite, shutting my plastic container.
“What’s going on there?” Sergei motions between Luka and me with a fork. The chairs aren’t really even in rows anymore; we all sit in jagged lines, faced towards one another.
“Nothing,” Luka and I say in unison.
Sergei’s brows jump. “Sounds like something to me.” He aggravatingly digs into his chicken. Maybe he’s remembering that Luka called him a piece of shit while defending me.
“If no one’s going to say it, I will,” Brenden starts.
My eyes widen. “No, Brenden.”
“Yes,” he retorts. “Do you even remember what happened, Bay?” His voice is soft but also condescending.
“Yeah, I do. I lived it.” My neck heats at all the pierced gazes on me. I don’t like this. I don’t want to do this. “Please, Brenden, stop.”
He does stop out of respect for me, but Sergei apparently wants to guess now. “You two had a falling out?” Sergei speculates. “You got in trouble somehow?”
Luka shakes Hot Tamales into his mouth, not saying a word. Looking nonchalant about everything, but his muscles are flexed.
“No one’s going to say anything?” Sergei questions like we’re all acting suspicious.
Thora raises her hands. “I’m new. I mean, sort of.”
“What were you doing with all those forms anyway?” Brenden asks, finding a way to dodge the subject.
Thank you.
“I just completed the Wellness Program,” she says. “Technically I did a short version before I first auditioned, but I didn’t land the job back then. Since they hired me on, they wanted a full physical.” Thora drums her paperback and adds, “Oh, I’m all clear. In case you were curious or whatever…” She trails off and makes a face like she sucks at talking.
When we first met, I thought she disliked me, but she shook my hand for an awkward beat too long, actually admitted to being kind of awkward, and said she has RBF. Then Thora asked if I needed anything from the drugstore. She was about to make a quick stop for bathroom essentials.
She also tripped on her way out.
In a one-second meeting, I determined that I liked Nikolai’s girlfriend—maybe even more than I like Nik.
Sergei kicks the leg of Luka’s chair, stealing his attention. “Honesty is important between partners.” Great, he’s back to our secret. “So what’s going on here?” He gestures again. From me to Luka. From Luka to me.
Luka looks to Dimitri.
Sergei glowers. “Why are you turning to him?”
“Cool it, Serg,” Dimitri says huskily.
“That’s my brother, not yours.” Sergei stabs his fork in his chicken breast. “Don’t tell me to cool it.”
“Stop,” Luka breathes.
No one hears him.
“I’ve been nothing but nice to you,” Dimitri growls. “Don’t start with me.”
“You’re petty. You’ve always been that way,” Sergei says like it’s written in stone, but it’s not. “You’re still bitter that I nicknamed Nikolai the God of Russia, and it caught on. Or is it deeper? Is it that, as hard as you try, you’ll never measure up to him or to me?”
Dimitri looks murderous, face blood-red. Two controlled breaths later, he growls, “I don’t fight with family. So either you find Oz and grow a motherfucking brain or I’m leaving you with your stupid thoughts.”
“It hurts because I’m right,” Sergei says pointedly.
Dimitri kicks off his chair, and it folds into itself. “Sorry, Zhen. I’m not sticking around for this shit show.” He picks up his water bottle and glances at Luka. “You’re on your own, kid.”
He’s been on his own. It’s not like Dimitri offers security all the time. It’s mostly an illusion. It exists in theory, but not reality. Not when Luka has needed it.
The door slams closed.
Dimitri is gone, and in his absence, the room weighs down like a hundred tons. I feel Luka eyeing me and my untouched food. He’d normally lean on the legs of his chair, hike his feet up on another seat—but he’s too uncomfortable. Like me.
Sergei won’t stop digging. “Why is it a secret?”
Luka explodes. “We got caught, okay! Leave it alone.” He rocks forward, elbows on his knees.
My stomach cramps. You can’t tell him the truth.
You can’t tell him the truth.
No one can know.
Sergei frowns. “Not until you tell me—”
“Cocaine.” Luka glares. “Stop pressing.”
I try to let out a breath.
“Cocaine? You can’t do drugs, Luka.” Sergei goes off on a tirade, yelling at Luka about the consequences of cocaine use. Upset about our past that’s an utter lie.
Luka buries his face in his hands.
Sergei has reason to be concerned. Drugs are a serious issue—one that we both disliked using as a front. Back then, we felt like we had no choice.
The long-winded rant ends when the lecturer arrives. Toting a briefcase, the mousy man apologizes for being late and struts to the front of the conference room. He’s not alone.
Dimitri returns and plops down on a front seat, arms crossed. I’m not that surprised. This is a mandatory AE function, and he made a promise to Zhen to take the seminar to heart. The good inside of Dimitri can outweigh his short temper.
I have so much trouble paying attention.
I zone out most of the seminar. Even when the lecturer hands us packets to fill out, I forget to write my name in one of the blanks. He reminds me when I turn it in.
Officially, I’m in the worst kind of trance. I feel inside-out and winded. I try to eat my grilled cheese, but it goes down like a lump.
“You’re all free to leave,” the lecturer tells us.
I check the time on my cell. It’s already 10 p.m. and everyone files out quickly. I move so slowly it’s almost annoying in my head, but my body and mind don’t seem to be in sync.
“You coming with?” Brenden asks me, just as I exit onto the third-floor lounge area: couches, a coffee bar—that sort of thing.
I rest against the wall. “Where are you going?”
Zhen already strolls to the gold elevators.
The concern on my brother’s face could fill the Pacific Ocean. “To the suites.”
I’m afraid if I go to bed at this very moment, I’ll never want to get up. “Later. I think I’ll get a coffee or something first.”
“I can stay. If you need company—”
“No, it’s okay.” I really don’t want to be alone, but I can’t look at Brenden right now without seeing the lie I told him years ago. “You go on without me.”
Brenden hesitates, conflicted, but after a long moment, he leaves for the elevators.
I clutch my journal to my chest, and when I glance to the right—I spot Luka at a brass water fountain. He pretends to take a sip, but he’s clearly watching my brother depart.
When Brenden slips inside the elevator, Luka straightens up and heads over to me.
He sees my expression. Sees my sadness and pain.
His stride is unwavering. Strong and certain. I need him. And I can’t fake it anymore. I can’t act like I don’t miss him. I can’t act like he’s meant nothing to me these past four years.
My heart is hollow in his absence. I feel despair.
He approaches me, no reservations. No reluctance. He’s a foot away, and my chest collapses as his hands rise—he touches me.
Luka holds my cheeks, my face, and his body heat warms every inch of me. I clutch his waist and look up.
Luka dips his head down, our breaths trapped. Our lips a kiss away. Deeply, he whispers, “Let me take you somewhere, please.” Please.
Hold me.
Touch me.
Kiss me. I ache to bridge the space between us, but we can’t kiss in this hotel. Being this close, we’re already risking more than we ever have.
I nod more than once, and his hand falls to my hand, interlacing our fingers. Tenderly and discreetly, he kisses the top of my hand, and then he leads me out of the hotel.
I’m in a daze again.
This time, I feel like I’m dreaming.