6

Andrew woke beneath the noisy Grand Central Parkway, and for the first time in weeks, he’d napped lightly and without nightmares.

After a long stretch, the 74th Street sign appeared, and a traffic marker on its pole revealed them in Queens. Radek turned on Hazen Street, where he and Samil quickly took out their wallets.

There was no passing through the booth ahead without stopping, and the man behind its barred glass wasn’t there to exact a toll. Armed and wearing a uniform, his smooth jaw tensed as he examined their licenses. His hardened eyes then set upon Andrew.

“You got your ID?” Sam asked, facing him.

Andrew pulled out his driver’s license and handed it over.

“Atlantic City?” the dark-skinned guard regarded him. “What’re you doing up here?”

“Staying with family,” said Andrew, without missing a beat.

The guard hummed and handed back the license, then pointed his head at them to move along. Before Andrew could ask why they were driving through a guarded booth, a vast, windowless building came into view.

Dozens of uniformed men filed in and out of its caged entrance, each with a patch on their arm that read, ‘Department of Corrections.’

“There he is,” Sam announced, finger pointed.

A towering man in faded blue denim and a red A-shirt waved them over, his limber arms swinging as he closed the distance. The wind whipped at his long black hair and blew his shirt up, revealing a hairless, chiseled abdomen.

Radek put the beamer in park and jumped out to embrace him. Despite the newcomer’s lighter skin tone, Andrew realized, as they exchanged endearments in Ukrainian, that their faces shared subtle similarities.

“I hope this doesn’t freak you out,” said Sam, turning to face him.

“Well, it does,” he snapped. “You brought me to a fucking prison,”

“Let me tell you about guys like this,” Sam whispered, mindful of the men’s closeness to the car. “They come to America and sometimes they get in trouble. But it’s nothing serious,”

Andrew cocked his head. “Yeah, back home, we call them convicts,”

“We’re fags,” Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. “It’s not like we’re going to marry them,”

Embarrassment warmed Andrew’s face—sure, Samil mentioned his sexuality several times, but Andrew never brought up his.

“Listen, I like you,” said Sam. “I don’t want to lose you as a friend, so if this is too fucked up for you, say the word, and we’ll drop you back at Saint Mark’s.”

Andrew wanted no part of being around a new man, let alone a criminal fresh out of jail, but the alternative was being alone in his room and haunted by nightmares.

“Get back here with me,” he demanded.

“Get out, no,” Sam said, smiling at the returning Radek, who plopped down in the driver’s seat.

Andrew slid over when the new arrival fell into the back seat. The man was long, with an intimidating physique, but his eyes were warm and attentive. His hello came on a deep tenor, but a smile revealed a ridiculous gold cap on his upper right tooth.

“What’re you doing in Konni’s car?” the newcomer asked.

“He got locked up,” Sam told him.

Confusion masked his long face. “Where is Konni now?”

“You should know.” Sam faced him. “He called momma from lockup.”

The newcomer met Radek’s eyes in the rearview before turning to Andrew. “Samil is a rude shit. He introduces no one,” he said, extending his hand. “My name is Nikola.”

Andrew forced a smile and didn’t offer his hand. Samil raised his middle finger, introducing Andrew again as Saint Mark. This man, Niko, spoke fluent Slovak, and after proving it with some pleasantries that elicited nothing from Andrew, he returned to speaking English with Sam.

The bridge brought them back to Brooklyn, where Sam turned around and asked Andrew if he wanted out at York Street station. Andrew shook his head and, rather than zone out, listened intently as the conversation turned to Madonna.

“Why you no like her?” Radek asked in broken English. “She is sexy woman.”

“She’s fake,” Niko declared. “Did you watch that documentary of hers? She’s all a show, like those Vamilli idiots with the braids,”

“Milli Vanilli?” Sam asked.

Andrew finally spoke. “How the hell did you see Truth or Dare in jail?”

Niko’s dark brown eyes shifted. “They don’t deprive us of the arts inside.”

“Milli Vanilli is art?” asked Andrew.

“It’s fake art,” Niko frowned. “I want my money back,”

“You can get up to three dollars back,” said Andrew.

“They’re giving money back?” The wind blew two long wisps of tar-colored hair across the ridge of his hawkish nose.

“There was a big court case,” Andrew explained as if talking to a child. “If you take your disk back, you can get a three-dollar refund,”

“Do you need to have a receipt?” Niko asked.

“No,” Andrew replied. “Just the CD.”

Sam sang, “Blame it on the rain,”

“Don’t quit day job.” Radek cracked in splintered English.

Niko huffed. “He sounds better than Madonna,”

“She took top off in that film,” Radek spoke in the rearview, the word film coming out like ‘feelim.’

“Sam-Sam has bigger titties than her,” Niko said, flicking Sam’s ear.

“Bitch,” Sam swatted at him without turning around.

“You should be wearing a bra,” Niko added.

“What do you know about titties?” Andrew asked. “Did you see some in one of your prison art classes?”

Laughter erupted between Sam and Radek.

“I’m aware of women.” Niko’s eyes fell on Andrew’s chest. “And their titters,”

“Titters?” Andrew cracked. “What side of the Asov were you born on?”

Radek and Samil laughed harder.

“Simferopol, Ukraine.” Niko’s biceps tensed. “I came here five years ago with my step-father and Radek,”

“You’re step-brothers?” asked Andrew.

“We had the same matka.” Niko kissed his thumbnail, and Radek did the same. “She’s gone now.”

“What were you in jail for?” Andrew asked.

Sam answered from the front. “Stealing,”

“Stealing what?” Andrew cracked. “Milli Vanilli CDs?”

Even Niko laughed at that one. “I sold some stolen things, and I served my time for this,” he turned to Andrew and softened. “I won’t brag. I’m not proud of it.”

“Not proud of getting caught?” Andrew found his smile charming, regardless of the silly gold cap. “What do they give you to brush your teeth in there? I can see my reflection on those things,”

“Nikola is insane-crazy about teeth,” said Radek.

Niko stared boldly at Andrew. “I like a clean mouth,”

“How old are you?” Andrew wondered.

“I’m twenty-five,” Niko answered. “Where are you from, Mark?”

“Andrew, my name is Andrew,” he shifted his attention to the window as Radek stared into the rearview, confused. “Atlantic City, and before you ask, I’m almost twenty.”

♪

After dark, they arrived back in Brighton.

Amiable and bold, the tall Niko was undoubtedly attractive, and hearing him speak Slovak added to the charm. His less handsome step-brother, Radek, drove slowly around the neighborhood, the radio blasting as Sam sang along to whatever struck his fancy. They turned onto Corbin Place, rounding a sandy park before rolling down Brighton 15.

Niko leaned forward and whispered to Sam in Polish. “Konrad said he was in lockup?” When Sam nodded, a troubled look crossed Niko’s face.

Andrew asked, “Where are you staying?”

“Where am I sleeping?” Niko flashed that absurd gold tooth.

“I asked, where are you staying?” said Andrew.

“I’ll be at the place,” he called it in Polish. “Radeki, me, and a few other friends crash there and pay rent.” He tilted his head back on the seat and stared. “You need a place to sleep, Andrej?”

“No,” Andrew turned to the window. “I have a place,”

“That’s a shame,” Niko murmured. “I’d like to share a bed with you,”

Sam moaned from the front. “Lame,”

“You don’t even know me,” Andrew winced.

Niko shrugged his broad shoulders. “I don’t have to know you.”

“I’m not a whore,” said Andrew in Slovak.

“That’s too bad,” Niko said, his eyes roaming. “You’d make good money as a whore.”

Andrew’s eyes went back to the window as the cruel words of his attacker haunted him.

“For real?” Sam exclaimed. “I don’t know enough of that Slovak shit to understand what Andrej said, but your response is completely off the hook,”

Andrew swallowed hard. “I’m sure you’ll find a whore to share your bed,”

“I don’t want a whore.” Niko pouted. “I would fuck Sam-Sam if I wanted a whore,”

Sam whirled around again. “Excuse you?”

“Mind your business,” Niko scolded. “This is a private conversation between me and Andrej,”

Andrew shook his head. “This is not a conversation,”

“Andrej is my business,” said Sam.

Niko and Radek both let out a long ‘Oh?’

“Get out!” Sam clarified, “It’s not like that, you dupes,”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “We’re friends,”

“You’re a beautiful boy,” Niko said. “You’ve never had a zit on that face, have you?”

Sam guffawed. “Your game is so lame, Nikola.”

“Shut up, you,” Niko scolded, then turned to Andrew, “Your hair smells like fruit. I can smell it from here. Makes me hungry,”

“I’m not a snack,” Andrew said.

“See, now that’s game,” Sam boasted. “I’m stealing that,”

“Hey, Andrej?” Niko tipped over and whispered. “Are you a clean sheet?”

Andrew started. “A what?”

“You’re not, are you?” Niko then groaned. “Never mind, I don’t want you now.”

Andrew couldn’t help but smile.

“You’re such an ass,” Sam laughed.

“I’m just playing,” Niko assured, shifting his eyes. “I still like you, Andrej,” “I’ll sleep better tonight,” teased Andrew. “Knowing you still like me,”