It’s one of the few things I still have to call my own.
Adam stares at me, his eyes practically boring into me. “The people at…?” After a second, his brows furrow. “Are you talking about that third rate bar? The one you ‘performed’ at?” He adds air quotes to his words, like I hadn’t actually been performing.
“It’s not important,” I say quickly. “It was all a mistake.”
Adam scoffs loudly. “The mistake was trusting you. But since you brought it up…” He gives me an intense look, one I want to shrink away from. “I think you need to go back. Try again. We now know Zima is into boys half his age. He fucking buttered you up, pretending to like your performance.”
I swallow hard. I don’t think that’s what happened. I don’t think that’s why he pretended to enjoy my performance.
Maybe Ilya only likes mediocrity,a nasty voice whispers in the back of my mind.
“I can’t,” I say. “I… I messed up so much.”
Adam had been so mad.
“Because you went in half-cocked.” Adam shakes his head. “No, I’ve been talking with my partner, and he agrees that a honeytrap is our best option. Especially a gay one. Zima wouldn’t want any of that made public.”
“But wouldn’t that…” I begin, but it’s futile. “I mean, if he finds out who I am, whoyouare… he already suspects you’re a…”
“He doesn’t suspect anything,” Adam snaps. “As long as you do your part properly. Just spread your legs for him and get him to tell you about work. You can’t wear a wire, obviously. That would be too dangerous. So remember what he says.”
The whole idea is dangerous. Doesn’t he care about my safety?
“But I don’t want to cheat on you,” I say quickly. My mouth is dry, and my heart pounds loudly in my ears.
My phone still has Ilya’s number in it.
The one I haven’t told Adam about.
“It’s not cheating if it’s for work,” Adam says, very matter of fact.
I part my lips as the words sink in. That’s not what he’d thought the last time. He’d gotten so jealous. “I don’t know how to get in touch with him again,” I lie.
I don’t want to kiss Ilya and have Adam get mad all over again.
What would the consequences be forfuckingIlya?
Adam grows visibly frustrated, his teeth grinding together. “So go to the damn bar again. Go every single night if you have to. They don’t mind your godawful playing there.”
My cheeks flush, and I’m abruptly aware of the beautiful cello music in the background. I’ll never be that good, no matter how hard I try, and at the bar…
It would backfire.
It would end up worse than the last time.
I give a quick shake of my head. “I can’t,” I whisper. “I did so bad the last time. I can’t do it. I wish I could, but Ican’t, Adam.”
Adam rolls his eyes. “I take you to a fancy restaurant like this, I let you mooch off of me, but when I ask for one single favor, you refuse?”
“I can’t,” I repeat, feeling even smaller. “You even told me yourself I’m a failure. I’d just make it even worse.”
Except I’d already gotten Ilya’s phone number.
This is the part where I tell Adam. This is where I make him happy that I was proactive.
My throat goes dry.
I take a sip of wine. I think about roses and sweet words, about all the times Adam kisses me and tells me he loves me.
