“You mean the assault?”
He rolls his eyes. “Yes, I mean the assault, you dumbass. Last time I saw Yasmin, she was getting choked out by her psychotic ex and I was bleeding out on the floor of her apartment. She left me there, man. She just left me. If anything,I’mthe one who should be righteously pissed ather.”
I squint at him. “But you’re not.”
He folds in on himself, laughing coldly. “No. I gave it the ol’ college try, but I just couldn’t summon up the anger. I’m glad she ran. I’m glad she was safe. I just… I always take life as it comes and goes. You know that. I’m an easy-going guy. So it’s been real damn weird for me to care so much about something.”
“Tell me about it,” I mutter.
“Yeah.” He nods and looks me up and down like the evidence is written all over me. “You’ve got the bug as bad as I do.”
“The bug,” I mumble. “That’s what we’re calling it now?”
“What would you call it?”
My mind flashes back to how good and soft and warm Eliana’s skin felt under my hand as she stooped to smell the rose. The delight on her face, that subtle little smile…
“A fucking disaster,” I say finally. “That’s what I’d call it.”
“And yet.”
“And yet,” I agree.
“So what do we do about this disaster?” he asks after a quiet minute of nursing our breakfast beers.
I tilt my head. “Would you be open to taking the women and Sage and running for the hills?”
Zeke snorts. “Not if I value my balls remaining attached to my body, man. And even if I didn’t think Yas would saw off my manhood with a rusty butter knife, you and I both know that won’t end things. I’m not as well-versed in this underworld shit as you are, obviously, but I think it’s clear that this only ends one of two ways.”
I nod sadly, eyes cast toward the floor. “Either we get what we want…”
“… or Aleksei does,” Zeke finishes. “Yeah. I’d say that about sums it up.”
“So that’s it then. You’re siding against me.” I mean it half-jokingly, and to my relief, Zeke chuckles a bit for the first time since Eliana and I got back home.
“What are best friends for if not stabbing you in the back?” he asks.
“I thought you said they were for showing up for each other, even when you don’t deserve it?”
“Wrong. They’re for cold-blooded betrayal. You heard it here first.”
“Always knew I couldn’t count on you.” I slug him in the shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s go sit outside. It’s getting stuffy in here.”
We take our beers to the backyard and find seats in the grass with our backs against the house. The sun is coming up over the trees and birds are wheeling beneath the clouds.
It’s nice out here in the boonies, I’m realizing. I always swore up and down that I’d never leave Chicago proper. The city was in my veins, in the marrow of my bones. I’m brats and the Bears and green rivers on St. Patrick’s Day. I’m Malört and the L and lake-effect snow in April. I am the city; the city is me.
Or so I thought. But it’s turning out that a lot of things I thought about the course of my life aren’t quite as set in stone as I once believed.
Maybe other futuresarepossible.
“We need a plan,” I say. “Preferably not a fucking stupid one.”
“Then you’re barking up the wrong tree, brother. The only plans I ever come up with are fucking stupid.” He looks at me and his grin fades. “Running won’t work. We both know that. And going in guns blazing is suicide. So what does that leave us?”
I don’t answer, because I already know where he’s going with this. It’s the only place left to go, but as many times as I’ve tossed and turned thinking about it, it just seems too damn daunting to ever work.
“We need leverage,” Zeke continues. “Real leverage. And to get leverage, we need a threat.”
