Act Forty-Six
Luka Kotova
“Be responsible today.”
That declaration has rained down from Vince, Aerial Ethereal’s marketing director and no longer a Corporate spy.
(Hallelujah.)
He’s dreaming though. I may suck at math, but adding a hundred AE artists + the hottest July afternoon + free drinks + a massive Masquerade pool with hotel guests = a scenario with 0 responsibility.
In the same breath, Vince said, “Have fun.” I’m sincerely trying to figure out how responsibility and fun intersect on the Venn diagram.
Three Amour artists understand the decree well enough. Taking running starts, my cousins do full-in full-outs, splashing into the water and garnering thunderous cheers from guests. The DJ increases the volume of a remix to a summer pop song, and people cheer and dance.
The Masquerade hosts very few promo parties a year, but when they do, they always ask AE artists to perform and to “blend in and drink and have fun”—that way we’ll surprise the guests when we finally unleash a trick. Ticket sales normally skyrocket after these events.
Mandatory or not, stressed or relaxed—I don’t bail on pool parties. The Nevada summer is too brutally hot.
This year, it’s even better. I wade in the five-foot end and Baylee is standing on my shoulders, not a cousin.
I clasp her calves, completely secured, and she juggles eight mesh balls in a clean arc. She lets me catch one that falls, and I toss it back up to her.
In our section of the pool, the inebriated, sunburned guests stare open-mouthed and clap their hands to their margaritas and beers.
I meander around the pool, the water cool on my skin, and I ache to dip under. I know Bay must be scorching from the heat. No clouds in sight.
I chew a piece of gum and eye a dude who zigzags in the water towards us, his trucker hat says beer me.
“You have to stay back, dude!” I yell over the music, my voice nonchalant.
He floats slowly toward us now.
I almost laugh, and I look up.
In a red Adidas swimsuit, Baylee looks beautiful and in her element. She lowers, sitting on my shoulders, and she never breaks tempo. Balls sail in a new crisscrossing pattern, and I catch sight of her smile—which has been more fleeting this summer.
Infini isn’t selling out. We fill more seats than Amour, but our auditorium holds more bodies. There’s mutterings about music changes, too.
On top of that, Geoffrey has given us almost no time to recuperate and breathe. We’re both losing precious sleep. I’m down to five hours a night, and she’s not much better. But she works herself harder than me, deathly afraid of Infini’s end.
I run my hand up her leg, and the trucker hat dude yells at her, “I wanna hold your balls!”
I lost count of how many times she’s been heckled. I raise a hand at him in warning as he creeps closer, shaking my head.
(Drunk people, honestly. I have no other words than that.)
Baylee forces a smile. “Do you know how to juggle?!”
“Yeah!” he laughs and reaches out to grab Bay.
I splash him in the face. “That’s not an invitation! Back up!”
He drifts back a little, and I end up walking backwards, putting space between him and Baylee. Look, the place is swarming with security and I’ve dealt with these kinds of personalities my entire life. My level of paranoia is low, confidence high, and I’m too used to this to be an overprotective, over-alarmed asshole.
“If you can juggle, then get your own balls!” Baylee shouts, her tone serious.
He puts his sunglasses on top of his trucker hat, laughing. “Baby, I can show you my balls. I have ‘em right here!”
Baylee raises her brows, still juggling, and she watches the drunk Vegas guest out of curiosity. It’s entertaining to see how far they’re willing to take their wild vacation.
(What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. For them. Not me. This is my whole life.)
One second later, he actually commits.
Swim trunks down, dick out. Luckily, we are all saved by the image since five-feet of his body is submerged under water.
Girls squeal nearby and splash him for exposing himself. Others unhook their bikini tops.
“Skinny dipping!” a guy hollers, and more swimsuits fly off.
My hand slides up Bay’s thigh. “You started that, you realize?”
“And Brenden said I fail at fun and relaxation,” she says seriously. “Here, I just started a naked pool party.” That must’ve been a recent conversation with her brother.
She does fail at relaxation. Around my neck, her muscles are tensed up again, even as I rub her thigh. Bay lets her balls drop in her palms.
I hoist her off my shoulders, and she instantly dunks beneath the water and then breaches the surface.
“You okay?” I ask, my hands on the curve of her hips. My back is to the trucker hat dude, shielding her from him, and we drift into the masses, their fists pumping at a popular song.
We bypass the in-pool bar. Bay switched her antidepressants, under advice from her therapist, and the new kind have bad side effects with alcohol, so I don’t ask if she wants any liquor.
Baylee drapes her arms over my shoulders. “I want to be happy.” She tries to release a heavy breath. “I just can’t stop thinking about what happens if Marc says Infini is done. It’s not just the music and my mom. It’s so much more.”
I frown. “Like what?”
She shrugs. “Where do I go? What do I do? It’s the only show I’ve ever been in.”
“Krasavitsa.” I give her a look like it’s obvious what would happen.
“Don’t say what I think you’re going to say. It’s so farfetched.”
I say it. “AE will hire you for another show, and it’s only unbelievable to you because it hasn’t happened before.”
She seems uncertain.
“They will hire you again.”
Baylee leans her head back like her head weighs a million pounds and groans. “You don’t know that. I’m not a Kotova.”
“They will,” I say again, my lips rising.
She smiles off of my smile. “I’m being realistic here.” Her smile leaves really fast. “All so when I’m without a job and a roof, I’m not crushed to pieces.”
“Look.” I cup her face in my hands, and her worried eyes meet my assured ones. “That’s not going to happen. I’m not letting Corporate crush you. I’m not, okay?”
She nods, and I wonder if she really believes me.
Do I even believe I have that kind of control?
For now, I’m going to pretend to.
* * *
I thought I picked a somewhat quiet cabana to disappear into with Baylee. Not to screw around, we’re literally sleeping. I wake to familiar voices.
“My quota of drunk old men has been reached, surpassed, and pissed on profusely,” John says.
I open my eyes and make sure they haven’t woken up my girlfriend. My arms are around Baylee while she sleeps on my chest, head tucked in the crook of my arm to block out the sunlight. She’s practically passed out, needing this.
“Old men must attract more old men,” Timo says, his smile breathing inside his words.
They walk into view and nearly approach my cabana, but they’re distracted by each other’s presence.
(I’m not kidding.)
Timo is checking out John like he’s not his boyfriend that he sees every day. And John is fit. I mean, a six-pack, toned, and he’s bigger built than my little brother who has lean muscles. His dark trunks contrast my brother’s neon-orange Speedo.
Most Kotovas are in Speedos. Mine is blue. Be warned: Dimitri will show off his muscular thighs to every woman he passes. He thinks they’re god’s gift to humanity.
(They kind of are.)
John sips his beer and then says, “What kind of schooling does AE give you? Twenty-six is nowhere near fifty—and I don’t know why I’m asking. You believe you’re twenty-one.”
“Remind me, what am I, John?” Timo tilts his head, his cross earring swaying.
“You’re nineteen, clearly delusional because you’re dating me, and you hip-hop-around like a frog with ten legs.”
Timo’s smile bursts. “I must have weird taste when I go for the guy that calls me a frog over the one who calls me ‘Adonis’ incarnate.”
“I’m honest to you. The other guy just wanted to fuck you.”
“So you don’t want to fuck me?” Timo questions.
“Please,” John says dryly and then kisses my brother strongly. He urges Timo’s mouth open with smooth force, his arm winding around my brother’s waist. Subtly drawing him even closer.
Timo flushes while smiling, and he clutches the back of John’s windswept hair. Lip-locked for a while, they only break when John pulls back.
“Hold still, babe,” he tells Timo, his dark scowl trained on Timo’s hair.
Timo stiffens, more uncertain than usual. He clutches his boyfriend’s waist, stepping closer to him.
John wraps one arm around Timo’s shoulders in comfort, and then he picks some sort of beetle bug out of my brother’s hair.
It flies off immediately.
“Seriously!” John yells at the departing bug. “I was going to fucking stomp on you!”
Timo laughs and then he notices me out of the corner of his eye. He breaks apart from his boyfriend. “Hey, brother.”
I wave with a smile.
He bounds over at first like a ball of lightning, but then he slows at the sight of Bay sleeping. “I’ll be quiet,” he whispers and stands on an ottoman with a bow.
He’s taller than John now.
John eyes Baylee. “How is she sleeping? I can barely hear myself over the shrill music. I almost enjoy my own voice.”
I give Timo a look like: you tell him something. I’m too tired.
Timo swings his head to John. “Magic.”
John pauses for one beat. “I never thought I’d be with a dork for this long.”
“I can expire our time,” Timo banters. “Just tell me, John. I’ll end it—”
John covers Timo’s mouth with his hand. “Stop talking nonsense, babe. That’s my job.” With Timo taller on the ottoman, John draws him down some, just to kiss his forehead.
When Timo is at parties like this one, he gets hit on by young dudes and older men—really, all ages—about thirty times, at least. John is the one that has to constantly say, “He’s mine.”
But more than six-months into their relationship, they’re at a good place together. I think both have trouble believing it, but for different reasons.
Noise explodes as a huge group of family bounds over, some crawling out of the pool and soaking the cabana bed. I sit up against the pillow with Baylee in my arms.
She stirs, squints at the incoming men, and just shrugs them off, sleeping again.
I’m glad she’s used to my family, and she’s not agitated or bothered by them. I can’t excuse half the shit they do, I’d lose my voice.
I’m pretty sure Abram is pissing behind the cabana.
“Looking good, Thora James!” Timo calls, and everyone starts clapping as Thora approaches us with Nikolai. He claps too, nothing short of proud.
All the promo material for Amour has Thora’s face front and center. A huge honor. Something they’d never think to do with me.
(I’m not aching to be on promo art.)
There’s a reason they picked Thora. Daisy Calloway, one of the famous sisters, left a raving review about aerial silk in Amour, and Aerial Ethereal capitalized on that quote, the aerial silk act, and their new star Thora James.
After a hard start to the beginning of the year, she still worked her ass off. It goes without saying, she deserves this recognition.
Robby parades one of the many Amour posters, pumping it in the air like a boxing cue card.
Thora puts her hand to her mouth, a little embarrassed.
Nikolai whispers to her, infatuated with his girlfriend. That night at the hospital, months ago, didn’t draw them apart. They’re closer now than they’ve ever been.
And then Sergei slips into the cabana behind Erik, and there’s an unmistakable shift in mood.
I try to stay relaxed, but the air pulls taut. Everyone glances between Timo, John, and Sergei.
Timo hops off the ottoman, and John looks to his boyfriend on whether he wants him to leave or stay. The cabana falls to silence.
It just got really awkward.
“I can go,” Sergei says, about to turn around.
Timo hesitates. “Wait.” He told me that Sergei texted him a five-hundred word apology for The Red Death, and he asked me, “What should I do, Luk?”
I said, “He seems sincere.” It means something to me, but to Timo, I think what he’s been searching for, all this time, wasn’t sincerity or honesty.
It was just the smallest acknowledgement that Sergei still cares about him. About the little brother he used to put on his shoulders and find ponds to ice-skate on during wintertime. No matter which city we were in.
So as they meet each other’s gaze, Sergei waiting on pins and needles for Timo’s response, I’m almost positive I know what he’ll say.
“You should stay,” Timo tells him. “The party is here.”
Sergei looks like a lot of emotion just slapped him at once. He says in Russian, “I heard the party is wherever you are. I’ve missed it.”
Timo lets this sink in, but his rising lips suddenly part in alarm. I follow his gaze that drifts across the pool.
I jolt up, stirring Baylee even more.
“What?” She rubs her eye, frowning until she meets the horror on my face.
Everyone is looking at what Timo and I see.
Frozen next to the DJ speakers and chaotic pool party, Katya stands tear-streaked. Black mascara runs down her cheeks, and she wipes at the makeup. Head swinging left and right like she’s searching for something. Someone.
I know it’s us.
Her family. Her brothers.
“I’m going to kill someone,” Nikolai says lowly as he parts from the cabana, his stride urgent.
I slide Bay off, and she nods like go, go. I jump up and put a hand on his shoulder, just as Nikolai tears through the crowd. Other cousins follow. So do my brothers.
Thing is, Katya was on a date today.
I’m not sure anyone knows this fact besides me and Timo, and if I tell Nikolai, he really will want to kill some motherfucker.
More than I want to right now.
My lungs are lit on fire.
“Wait!” I shout at Nik over the commotion, servers flocking the area with trays of booze. Beach balls are launched rapidly into the air. “Wait, Nik!”
He stops, head dipping back at me.
“Let me talk to her first,” I say. He’ll turn whatever happened into a lecture, and she’ll be more upset.
He contemplates for only a second before nodding. “Three minutes.”
* * *
The Worst Date In History Of Dates.
That’s how Kat describes the event to me, each word like a fist to my heart. I’m not prepared for the worst date in the history of dates. I’m not ready to go fuck this guy to someone who’s unhinged her life.
Nothing could ever make me ready for that.
My head is spinning, and I instantly ask, “Are you okay, like physically?”
Katya sits atop a counter in the empty boys’ bathroom, tile floor wet from people dripping pool water, and our siblings stand guard outside. Timo waits for the three minutes like Nik. I think he’s afraid of accidentally annoying her.
“Kat?” I pass her paper towels from a nearby dispenser.
She crumples them in a fist and stares faraway at the urinals.
“Hey.” I touch her cheek gently. “What happened to living in sin city and being fazed by nothing, huh?” (Come on, Kat. Talk to me.) “Did he hurt you? Katya—”
“Not like you think.” She sniffs and lifts her glassy gaze. “I…” Our heads turn as the door opens, all three of our brothers coming inside.
Nikolai stands uptight by a sink, and he crosses his arms, his authority masking every inch of his face. Body. And eyes.
Katya barely glances at him or Sergei, who leans against a stall, his jaw hardened in severe lines. Timo hops on the counter next to Katya, and he asks under his breath, “Did you use it?”
She sniffs harder. “No.”
“Use what?” Nik asks.
“Yeah, what,” I say, my brows furrowed.
Nik frowns darkly at me. “You don’t know.”
“No.” I give Timo a look. “What happened to the three of us?” I gesture between us.
Timo brings up a foot to the counter. “John’s cousin, Camila, you all know her—she kept calling you the cool brother.” He picks his fingernail but gestures to me. “And I thought I’d officially become cooler. I gave Katya a condom. I wanted her to be safe.”
I watch Katya stare off again, and I worry about that dazed look in her eye.
“Timo,” Nikolai groans, his hand to his forehead.
“What?” Timo touches his chest. “Do we all not want our little sister to be safe? How am I being reprimanded for this?”
“So you didn’t use a condom,” I say to her, flying past Timo’s words.
“Not because I didn’t want to,” Katya says, “and for the record, after Nik’s sex talk I bought a huge box of condoms. I was eleven.”
“Those are expired,” Nikolai says. “Throw them out.”
Katya bows forward, heels of the palms to her eyes. “I can’t do anything right!”
We all tense. I edge forward to the counter and put a hand on Katya’s back. “It’s okay, Kat.” We give her a minute of quiet, and then she lifts her head.
“I’ll share details, but…” Her big orb-like eyes grow on Nik. “Don’t be mad.”
Nikolai looks like he’s swallowing shrapnel. “I’ll try not to be.”
I don’t know where this is going anymore than Nik.
Katya taps her knees with two fingers, nervous. “He complimented my flexibility, which was kind of nice. I thought it was suggestive. I mean, that’s suggestive. Right?”
I don’t want to be the one to answer these, so I look at Timo and then Nikolai.
“In what context?” Timo asks with a shrug. “I mean if he said I want to hike your leg—”
“Let’s stay on course,” Nikolai interjects.
“And we wonder why we can’t solve crimes by dinner time,” Timo quips.
Katya sniffs and says, “He saw Viva. He kind of knew about me, and he’s from Vegas. I thought…the date was nice.” She shrugs. “He paid for lunch, and since Teddy is a waiter at Imperial, he’s never seen the top suites at the Masquerade. I knew…um, I knew you were all at the pool party. So I thought…”
Nik is rigid.
I’m a statue.
Timo is frozen.
And Sergei has his hand to his mouth in concern.
“You took him up to our suite,” Nikolai says angrily. “How old is he?”
“Nineteen.”
“You’re only seventeen, Katya.”
“That’s old enough!”
Nik’s already intense gaze darkens more. “You don’t even know this guy.”
“We chatted. He’s not a stranger, okay? I wouldn’t do that. I know the rules.” She growls at the incoming tears and rubs her eyes with her arm.
(What the fuck happened.)
Sergei keeps shaking his head, and he mutters some words in Russian that sound like, “…not safe.”
My hand falls off her back, and I grip the sink counter.
“He didn’t hurt me like you think, Luk,” she repeats a sentiment she expressed earlier. “Just…” She makes a motion with her hands around her head like I need space.
Timo jumps off the counter, and I step back with him and Nik. Until we’re all facing Kat, giving her room.
“Teddy just made me feel…” Her chin quivers, face twisting. “You’re going to hate me more than him.” Her voice cracks. “And I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t.”
“We’re your brothers,” Timo says, “no judgment. I’ve probably done worse.”
“Me too,” I say.
Nikolai doesn’t add himself into the mix. He is pretty squeaky clean.
But in Russian, Sergei chimes in, “Me, as well.”
Katya rips the paper towel into pieces. “Teddy was impressed by the suite, and we were definitely flirting. I think.” She frowns. “No, I know we were.”
Timo whispers to me, “I’m scared.” He’s not joking.
“Same.”
Kat blinks, silent tears falling, and she says, “I got on my knees, went for his zipper, and he freaked out.”
What.
“He called me a slut…said he doesn’t date girls like me. Then, other worse words.” Her glassy eyes narrow at the floor. “And he ran out, and all I could hear is that one line: girls like me. For the…the longest time I wasn’t sure what kind of girl I was, and then I do one thing that I’ve wanted to do, and he decides who I am like that.” She snaps her fingers. “And I mean, don’t most guys like blow jobs? What’s wrong with me? Does he think I’m that ugly and unappealing that he’d rather run away?” Her voice hushes, and I have to strain my ears to hear. “I don’t know. It just all hurts.”
Silence leeches the bathroom, and I’m not sure who’s ready to break it. I love my sister, and the only thought in my mind is that someone—some guy—hurt her.
She cringes the longer the room stays quiet. “Someone. Say something.”
“That guy is a real tool,” Timo says. “You’re beautiful, and any guy would love to have head from you.”
I almost laugh at the look on Nikolai’s face.
“This is not what we’re going to take away from this situation,” Nikolai says sternly. “No.”
“No?” Timo gapes at Nik. “So you’re siding with the douchebag who rejected our little sister? How is that helpful? Where’s the loyalty, brother?”
Nikolai looks quickly to Kat. “I’m on your side,” he assures her, “but you don’t need to be giving guys blow jobs.” He’s always been unabashed when mentioning sex to our sister. Like it’s his duty to inform her—but also keep her safe.
We both haven’t been ready for Katya to get older.
“I want to,” she refutes. “You all do it. Why am I different? Because I’m the girl? It’s just sex. I don’t look at my virginity like a delicate flower any more than you all looked at yours like a petunia or daffodil.”
I realize now that if I can view sex as just physical, no emotions required, she may be the same way. Timo was before John. We grew up around the same dudes. She wasn’t ear-muffed because she was a girl either, but she is being treated differently because she’s one.
“Kat has a point,” I say.
She expels a relieved breath.
But Nikolai is stone.
Katya frowns at him. “I know you see me like…a little girl, but your job is done, Nik.”
His eyes cloud, jaw tightens and he rubs his lips before saying in Russian, “My job is never done.”
She asks in a shaky voice, “Do you think…I’m a slut?” She’s only looking for affirmation from Nikolai. His approval means more to us than we sometimes let on.
“No,” Nik says.
“Even if I gave him a blow job?” she questions.
“Even if you slept with him,” he says in a reassuring tone. “You’re no more a slut than all of us in this room.”
I’m smiling, the air less strained, and Timo grins back at Kat.
She takes a big breath.
“If you want to explore things, you need to buy new condoms and be safe.”
“I do, and I know,” she says with a nod.
“And you’re still young in a city with—”
“Nik,” she says, holding his gaze. “I know. I plan to talk to Thora.” Nikolai is about to raise another point, but Katya beats him to it. “I know she has few experiences, but I have Timo and Luk, too. You don’t need to worry about me all the time.”
Timo laughs. “He’s physically incapable of such complex things.”
We all break into a smile at the sound of Timo’s laughter, and then Sergei asks, “Where does Teddy work again?”
“Imperial?” Katya says, confused. “Why are you…oh my God, don’t talk to him.”
Sergei sighs out frustration but looks to Nikolai.
Nikolai turns slightly, and they’re whispering.
My eyes drift between them. I’m glad that Nikolai Kotova has an older brother to confide in now. I never thought he’d be able to look to his right and find Sergei there.
“What if Luka and I just talk to Teddy?” Timo asks Kat, and he mutters, “Maybe throw a cocktail in his face.” He swings his head to me. “You want in?”
“Oh yeah.”
“No,” Katya says and spread her hands out. “N.O.” She slides off the counter. “I do need you to do something though.”
We all listen.
“Can you try to hold off on telling our cousins what happened? I know as soon as we exit, they’re all going to ask, and I’d rather condense this whole thing into two sentences. And I’d rather tell them. Because I want to see their reactions and glare at them if they’re rude.”
“Damn, sister.” Timo smiles bright.
“What?” Katya grows emotional at all of us smiling with Timo.
I’m the only one who says what we’re thinking, feeling, and I nod to Katya, “We love you.”