18

Mid-September marked the official end of summer when vacationing locals returned home, and busy restaurants returned to normal.

Andrew opted to stay on at the Russian Tea Room, speaking to the evening manager about a possible apprenticeship in the dining hall orchestra. Until then, he waited tables in the afternoons, this time without Dmitri.

The raven-haired boy had enrolled in the dance program at NYU, limiting his hours to weekends, when Andrew would soon be playing violin if all went according to plan. Meanwhile, Dmitri’s stories about the gang in Brighton proved true.

Niko and Andrew returned to the place late that afternoon. Cyril began talking to the tall Ukrainian about a road trip, and Andrew’s sudden silence bred agitation.

“Now what’s wrong?” Niko asked when he rose from the kitchen table.

Andrew didn’t answer as Niko followed him to the shoe pile by the coat rack.

“Where’re you going, Andrej?”

“Back to my room,” he said, slipping into his untied sneakers. “I don’t want any part of this shit,”

“What’re you talking about?” Niko asked.

“I know what you’re planning,” he said. “I don’t want any part of it,”

“Okay.” Niko rested his head against the wall. “You’re out.”

The front door opened then, ushering in a grinning Sash. His lone blue eye glowed with mirth, and before Andrew realized it, he found himself drawn to the swell of his pectorals under that black turtleneck.

Sash kicked off his designer shoes and embraced Niko, kissing the man’s cheek before turning to Andrew. He opened his arms without a smile, and when Andrew didn’t step into them, he shrugged and stepped away, laughing.

Cyril, Radek, and Tadeusz crowded around, their noisy huddle migrating to the kitchen. Sash slapped a heavily taped paper bag onto the kitchen table, and Tadeusz snatched it up before handing it to Cyril.

Vodka was shared, and a lively discussion in Polish followed. Everyone had a busy month, and each talked about it, no matter how mundane, with only Sasha keeping tight-lipped on details.

“I’ve decided on a change of scenery,” the bald Pole declared, his baritone laced with jollity. “It’s time to name my replacement.”

Andrew watched from the living room as they soaked in his words.

“I’m leaving the city in October,” he told them. “Radeki will lead things.”

Niko beamed at his brother with pride.

The men seemed agreeable to the choice. One thing about these men was that if they had an issue with something, they would say so in the group. Cyril raised a shot glass, and the others followed suit, saying Radek’s name enthusiastically before knocking back their shots.

Then, the old man approached Andrew, who joined in a toast with his soda can.

After this, the gang talked about a road trip.

Andrew wanted no part, so he fired up the gas burner on the stovetop and began peeling some potatoes. After slicing the skinless rounds on an accordion cutter, he melted some butter in a pan.

“We’re going to hit the Eagle Point development,” Cyril announced in Polish. “Tadeshi got the truck. We need a driver.”

“Samil,” Niko suggested.

“No,” said Radek, who then spoke Polish. “What’s his problem?”

Andrew spoke up. “His problem is that he doesn’t want to be involved,”

Sash chuckled, and Cyril grinned.

“He said he wants no part of it,” Nikola affirmed.

“That’s fine, but not Sam-Sam,” Tadeusz spoke Polish. “He cannot be trusted.”

“You can find us a girl, yes, Tadeshi?” Cyril asked.

“When did Andrej say he wanted no part of it?” Sash asked softly.

Andrew didn’t look up from the frying pan.

“Today, when I first heard about it.”

After a beat, Sash asked, “Dmitri told you of our trips?”

“Yes,” said Andrew. “He told me everything,”

“I love this boy. He’s so honest.” Sash laughed. “Why don’t you lie, Andrej?”

“Lies take work.” Andrew pushed the softening potato slices around the pan with a spatula. “And I don’t work for free.”

The stink of Old Spice mingled with the potatoes when Cyril moved alongside the stove. “You still work with Dimi?”

“He only works weekends since starting school,” said Andrew.

Cyril’s thin lips spread. “He’s back in school?”

“He is, yeah.” Andrew smiled. “He’s still dancing, too,”

“Andrej likes to dance.” Sash’s voice rose above the others.

“I never went dancing with him,” said Niko.

“Andrej,” Sash said, ignoring him. “Weren’t you going to school before you came here?”

His nerves tingling, he turned down the heat when the edges around the potatoes began browning. “I decided life would make a better educator. Not that it’s any of your business,”

Cyril stepped back as Sash came between them.

“You’re right. It’s none of my business.” Liquored breath entered their space. “But Andrej, neither are we any of yours,”

Andrew pulled the pan from the burner and walked to the front door.

On the train, he regretted dangling Dmitri in front of Cyril. His discussion of the gang’s affairs with Dmitri naturally put Sash on the defensive, and after seeing them at the club, he likely suspected more was going on than friendship.

He longed for the Pilar—he hadn’t played it in days.

Weren’t you going to school before you came here?

That bald, one-eyed fucker needed to mind his business.

Andrew stepped off the train at Cooper Union, and as he stared at the less shadowy faces passing him by, a sudden hand took hold of his shoulder.

“The fuck!” he screamed, throwing his fist.

Nikola’s arm collided with it.

“Don’t ever walk up on me like that!”

Niko seemed undaunted as everyone began watching them.

“Sash thinks you talked about Cyril to Dmitri,”

“I didn’t talk, I listened,” he yelled.

“He said that you and Dmitri.” Niko lowered his voice. “Did you spend the night with him?”

A mix of anger and amusement erupted within Andrew.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” He studied Niko’s long, pouty face. “You’re screwing around with him, and you accuse me of doing the same?”

Niko moved into him and whispered, “Did Dimi say that?”

Andrew shook his head before pushing past him. He found Sash sitting in his Explorer with the window down and that blue eye fixed.

Andrew marched up to the open window.

“I’m not your problem, Glass Eye,” he said steely. “So go fuck yourself,”

“Go home, Andrej,” said Sash in Slovak. “Your mother waits for you,” Andrew paused a step before continuing down the sidewalk.