Act Forty-Five
Baylee Wright
In the crowded physical therapy room, I plop down in an ice bath, the metal tub uncomfortable and cold.
I feel like a monster truck ran over me. We perform for Infini twice a day, five times a week, and on our two days off, we’re still in the gym for twelve hours, per Geoffrey’s high-stress demands. With no guarantees that Infini will be renewed for another year.
Marc usually sends out congratulatory emails after a show’s first month. We received none.
I could sink beneath the ice, but I try to remember we have time, still. I shiver from the cold bath.
My mom’s music isn’t lost yet.
I hold onto a glimmer of hope. Just a glimmer.
It helps.
Then I peer at Luka’s tattooed leg. He stands close by, skillfully putting on Kinesio tape across his bicep.
When Luka notices me staring, he hikes his leg over the tub, foot on the edge. I have a complete view of his designs now, and he smiles while he bites off tape from the spool.
The way he’s looking at me, I feel like he’s remembering earlier this morning. We had deep sex on his bed. The kind that filled me to the brim and vibrated my limbs as I came.
Dimitri wasn’t in the room, thank God.
But it’s been hours, and the fullness stays between my legs. It’s a good soreness. I feel like Luka is still completely and utterly inside of me.
I smooth my lips, the ice bath tempering my heat. “What’s this one?” I skim a design on his shin with my finger.
Luka tilts his head. “A skyline…” He sounds unsure.
My teeth start to chatter. “You don’t know.” I try to give him a serious look, but he keeps smiling and my teeth keep clanking. “Stopiznotfunny.” I slur, groan, and slump over the tub.
We have a date tonight watching the Mets vs. Cubs—I smile at the floor dizzily.
This is why I’ve blocked out the date. I feel like a love-struck fool.
Luka retracts his leg and crouches beside me, a full-on grin. “You always said it was ‘cool’ that I got random tattoos at the spur of the moment.”
I whisper, “Because I was with you.” I bite down to stop the teeth-chatter.
Luka’s eyes twinkle. “Those are my favorite tattoos, by the way. The ones where you were with me. I remember all of them.”
“Mmmhmm.” I’m trying not to smile.
Luka pockets his tape and then snatches a cotton towel. I stand and step out of the tub, water dripping down my spandex shorts and sports bra. I walk straight into his embrace, and he wraps me up in the towel and his arms.
Hugs from Luka Kotova are the best of all time.
So tight and comforting, they deserve trophies and medals. This particular hug pulls me firm against his chest, even with my arms tucked to my A-cups.
“I’m getting you wet,” I say.
He dips his head and whispers, “Not as wet as you’re going to be tonight.” He starts murmuring all the things he plans to do to me, and my cheeks start heating, my breath shallow.
I try not to smile when he mentions his cock filling me deep again. Then he presses his lips to my head. He’s dirty and then so sweet.
“Kiss! Kiss!”
We flinch slightly at Robby’s incoming presence. Luka’s cousin snickers as he walks past and waves us to go on, kiss.
Other artists on med beds and in ice baths watch us curiously. I freeze, and Luka feels me tense up in his arms.
So it’s not the first time all the attention has veered onto our relationship. This happens at least twice a day. I shouldn’t be put-off; I’m a people-watcher, I understand the allure.
The problem is that people fought for us. I feel like we have to show we’re the best couple in Aerial Ethereal. The pressure is already high at work. Now this.
It’s a lot to live up to.
“Kiss! Kiss!” Robby claps to the word. “Kiss!”
Luka ignores him easily and digests my reaction. I’m not annoyed at Robby; I’m just thinking. I eye a couple young girls who whisper by a medicine cabinet.
Luka must see my mind reeling. “We don’t have to prove anything to anyone, Bay.”
I nod. It’s really nice hearing that from the guy I’m with. So I inhale and try to relax more.
His right hand warms my cheek. Our eyes flit to each other’s lips. Now I kind of want him to kiss me. And not because of Robby.
Luka whispers, “I can play into his joke just to shut him up.”
I nod stronger.
He inches closer and kisses me full-force, my lips sting, and his hand dives to the small of my back. My skin heats like electricity zipping down my neck, breasts, hips, and lower…I pulse, beginning to throb.
Luka smiles, his tongue tangling with mine as we draw even nearer. His body thrums against my body, and he cups my ass.
I start laughing for no reason.
Robby cat-calls us with a whistle and drifts away.
Luka wraps his arms around my shoulders, laughing too. “You know I’m going to grab your ass more often now.”
Luka Kotova likes hearing me laugh. “You’re too much.” I control my laugh and make a grave face.
He mimics my expression. “You always say that. Too much of what?”
“Everything,” I say seriously.
“Evidence?”
“I could spend hours detailing why, but not while I stare at you.” While he makes me smile.
Luka playfully turns his back to me, and then checks me out over his shoulder. “What about now?”
I shake my head, almost about to burst into another laugh, and he’s made me forget all about the sadness surrounding Infini. For a moment at least. My eyes suddenly well, and I can’t describe the source of my emotion.
It just surges.
He spins back, noticing. “Come here, Bay.” His voice is tender, and he brings me into another warm hug. I wrap my arms around his waist.
“Date night!” someone shouts.
I suddenly gape at Luka.
“Date night!” That’s a Kotova, jeering at us about our date night later.
I eye Luka. “You told who?”
He kisses my lips, my temple, my cheek, and he whispers, “Everyone.”
I wear a more heartfelt smile, swooning at him. We sway now like we’re slow-dancing. “Because you can,” I realize.
He nods, a powerful, assured nod. “Because we can.” We can tell the whole world we’re in a serious relationship. I inhale a freeing breath, and that’s when Sergei approaches, an envelope in hand.
Sergei opens his mouth, but an old female AE doc calls Luka over, “I need to do a short examination on you, Luka.”
“I had a physical last month,” Luka says while we separate. I tighten my towel around my chest, and Luka fits his baseball cap over his tousled hair, hiding his gaze from Sergei.
“It’s a follow-up to that one. Just step over here.” She ties her wispy gray locks back, and Sergei and I watch her lead Luka to the medicine cabinet.
I put my towel to my lips, nervous.
Early this morning, he stole a coffee canister from the grocery store. He helped me put away my veggie kits and protein bars—and I had to ask, “How bad is it?” We were both grabbing the refrigerator handle, frozen.
He knew I was referring to his kleptomania. “What kind of scale do you want?” he asked.
“One being you…”
“…have no desire to steal,” he helped me out. “Ten I can’t stop thinking about it?”
I nodded.
Luka contemplated for a second. “Maybe a six, six-point-five. It’s like…about as bad as when I was…” He winces through his teeth, trying to find an age. “Eight-years-old?”
“I didn’t know you then.”
He smiles. “No kidding.”
I tried not to smile back, but it was hard. “The other thing is worse right now though, isn’t it?” I meant his bulimia, but he hates the clinical names, so I always avoid them in conversation.
“Yeah, it’s not good.” Luka sighed deeply and spun his Knicks hat backwards. “I’m trying to get ahold of it. I’ve just felt out of control lately.” He chewed his bottom lip once in thought and nodded, coming to terms with that. “You sad?” he asked.
I made a so-so motion with my hand, and then we hugged, our hands dropping from the refrigerator, the door thudding shut.
My cheek to his chest, I asked, “Therapy?” I wondered if he was going.
“I never found a therapist in Vegas.”
“You never tried?”
He shook his head, blinking a couple times. “No. I don’t know, maybe I should.” He used to go when he was little, and he returned in New York around when I first met him, on-and-off. AE used to pay a portion, but Luka mentioned that his health insurance didn’t cover it anymore.
Sometimes it’s easy to use money as a reason not to go, but therapy helps us both a lot.
I nudged him lightly and said, “You should try.”
“…I’ll think about it.”
I replay our talk in my head as the female doctor nears Luka.
“Can you open your mouth, please?” she asks him.
He looks nonchalant as he lowers his jaw, mouth wide. She peers down his throat with a medical instrument and light.
“You’re worried about him?” Sergei asks me.
I frown. “Yeah, he’s my…” God, I’m smiling already. “Boyfriend.” It’s overwhelming being able to say that.
“No, I mean…” Sergei gestures from Luka to me and back again. “You know what he deals with. He’s told you?”
I nod, and I look at the ceiling as I find the answer. “I think he told me when I was…thirteen? Yeah, thirteen.” It was really hard for Luka to describe what had happened, which is why I don’t ever repeat his past to anyone. Not even to someone who may already have the answers.
Like Sergei.
He scratches his short hair. “I should’ve known you two were together.” His shoulders rise. “I just thought Luka would’ve told me that he had feelings for you. I never thought he legally couldn’t say anything.”
“I doubt Luka minds anymore,” I say. “He’s not really a grudge-holder.”
“My apology is for you.”
My brows jump.
Sergei laughs, more at himself than at me. “No one thinks I can apologize?”
I must not be the first stop on the Sergei Kotov apology tour. “It’s just apologies usually begin with I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry,” he says honestly. “For more than one thing.” He passes me an envelope.
My lips part. “Is this…?” I feel the outline of money without opening the flap. The grand for my misplaced box. I paid AE and depleted my bank account months ago.
“It’s not all I owe you. I thought I could pay in installments. A hundred a month.”
“I’m confused.” I slowly shake my head to clear cobwebs. “Why now?”
Sergei rubs his throat. “It’s not easy admitting that I’m in the wrong. Before I transferred to Infini and moved to Vegas—I honestly did not know this about myself. I guess confronting old choices puts your life into perspective…” He pauses. “And I’ve been mentally revisiting conversations and things I’ve done, and I realized I was stubborn and…an ass here. So.” He motions to the money. “That’s a start to an I’m sorry.”
“Okay,” I say with a small smile. “I accept, thanks.” Do we shake? Do we hug?
I guess I have to start with: what is Sergei to me exactly?
A co-worker?
My boyfriend’s older brother?
Luka is on okay terms with him. They haven’t built a close-knit relationship, but he’s not cold-shouldering Sergei like Timo.
To my knowledge, Timo hasn’t spoken to Sergei since The Red Death, and Sergei has respected his little brother’s space.
Their disputes aren’t mine though. I want to be friendly to someone who’s been kind, so I extend a hand to shake.
Sergei smiles and shakes back.
“I have it under control,” Luka says strongly to the doctor. Our eyes fix back on him.
She sighs. “You’ll need to start writing down everything you eat and your feelings about the food before and after consumption. I’ll give you a journal before you leave. I believe you did this before when you were…” She flips into his chart. “Six-years-old—”
“I am not that bad,” he refutes, turning his back on us.
Sergei cracks his knuckles, on edge.
“I think it’s best, Luka,” she says. “Stay there, let me get you a journal.”
“Baylee.”
I jump so much at the sound of Geoffrey’s voice, right by my ear. I end up bumping into Sergei, but he puts a hand on my shoulder, steadying me.
My lungs just shot out of my body, and Geoffrey wears zero humor.
Before I ask what, he says, “You’ll need to stay late tonight.”
Today is an “off” day—no performances. So Luka and I came in at 5:00 a.m. on the dot to workout and practice so we could have the night off. I reiterate this to Geoffrey, and he cuts me off mid-sentence with, “Shut up.”
“That’s not necessary, Geoffrey,” Sergei tells him in a controlled voice.
Luka abandons the medicine cabinet to reach us. “What’s going on?” His hand slips into mine.
My ribs hurt; I’m so stiff. “He’s saying we need to stay late.”
Luka shakes his head. “Why?”
“I need you both on trampoline tonight,” Geoffrey explains. “We’re changing your eight-ball, seven-up pirouette.”
“I can’t do nine balls,” I emphasize, my pulse racing in fear. It’s not possible. I’ve never done that before, not even on the ground. And any big changes we make now are risky. The show has already begun.
“Did I specify nine balls? No, I didn’t,” Geoffrey snaps. “You’re not going to sit on Luka’s shoulders anymore.” He takes one beat. “You’re going to stand.”
Shit.
Shit.
I rub my eyes, already tired at the thought of nailing that trick down while standing on his shoulders. And the timing—God, the timing.
Perrot would tell us to deal with this change. So I nod. “Okay.” All I can do is agree and work hard again and again.
Ignore the stress.
Luka asks, “Can we start working on it tomorrow?”
“No. You start tonight.” He laughs once, his lips hiking, almost mockingly. “Why? Do you have a date or something?”
My face drops. He heard the Kotovas shouting date night at us.
Didn’t he?
Luka restrains emotion, not giving him more satisfaction, but Geoffrey spins around like he won a round in a battle and saunters out of the physical therapy room.
He ruined our baseball date night on purpose. “God, I hate him,” I say.
Luka nods, his jaw muscle constricting. “Me too.”