Nothingwould ever make it go away.Sasha stood gasping, his brow onMateo's shoulder.His hand was still captive in that strong grip.The video unspooled its monochrome horrors once more inside hishead, just as it was playing and playing across his laptop screen,unstoppable.Sasha thought about the couples he and Laurie knew inLondon, the partnerships against which he'd tried to measure hisown.He thought of their small infidelities, their break-ups andreunions, so fluid and easy, a blow-job in a nightclub doorwaynothing really, just a misdemeanour.
He hadtried to be a little bit like them.Tried not to show that Lauriewas his universe, the beginning and end of everything—suchprimitive intensity didn't sit well with a flash young theatrecrowd.And it hadn't been an issue, because never once had Lauriegiven him cause for doubt.They could sit in restaurants andnightclubs, only their elbows or fingers in contact, and know thatthey were all in all to one another.
Sashawas nothing like their London friends.He was a foreigner, an exilewho could give his heart once and once only.He lifted his headfrom Mateo's shoulder, beginning a desperate effort to composehimself.He breathed deeply.The boy's embrace tightened.For amoment Sasha let his shattered thoughts rebuild themselves in a newshape—the one where he took up the offer, responded to the big,warm hard-on pressing firm against his hip.Why not?They were bothexiles in a desert.Sasha built the future further.A sharp,bruising fuck here, right on the table where he and Laurie atetheir breakfasts, and then they'd run away.Never mind papers andvisas—Sasha the gipsy had once found his way across borders withoutthose.He'd run with Mateo to Colombia, and there he would take upthe battle against warlords, drugs barons, any bastard out therewho needed to be fought, because Sasha too needed his battlefield.Living in Laurie's safe harbour, he'd forgotten.
“Mateo.I need you to do something for me.”
“Anything.Tell me.”
“I need you to gather up your papers here, make sure you've gotall the notes we made, and...I need you to go.”
A sharpinhalation in the broad chest.“No!I won't leave you.”
Sashaallowed himself a weary chuckle.It came out as a sob.“You saidanything.”
“Yes, but I am frightened for you.What will youdo?”
“I'll tell you exactly.I'll make it a promise, then you won'thave to be scared about me.You trust me, don't you?”
“More than anyone I ever met before.But...”
“I'm going to pack up some things.Then I'm going to book aflight back to England, because there's something I need to do overthere, somebody I need to help—an immigrant like you.But I'm notgoing to leave straight away, because...”His throat constricted,and he let Mateo stroke his hair until the spasm passed.“Because Iwant to give Laurie time.No matter what you just saw, he's a goodman.He saved me, and...”Again came the disabling surge of grief.“Never mind.I don't expect you to believe me, but he deserves forme to wait, long enough to give him a chance to call me or to comeback here and tell me why this happened.And I need to wait alone.Do you understand?”
“No.How long will you wait for?”
“Until noon today.”
“Why then?”
“Well, you have your interview at ten, don't you?That willgive you time to get back here and tell me how it went.You cancheck that I'm alive and breathing, and we can say goodbye to oneanother properly, like...like friends.”
A shiverwent through Mateo's frame.He was strong, and very young, andSasha sensed in him the taut frustrations of a first realself-denial.“Like friends,” Mateo echoed bitterly.“If that's allI can be to you—”
“Don't ever sayall.You have no idea how much it means.”Sasha pushedhim gently back, creating one safe inch of space between them, thentwo, then an arm's-length gap so he could stand alone.“A friendwould do as I ask him now, Mateo.”
Sashalet him out through the courtyard.It was five in the morning, andhe could have used the front door for once, not his refugee'sassault course through the gardens, except that Sasha knew a blueFord had replaced the black Altima in the vantage point across thestreet.When Laurie called, Sasha would have a reason from him forthat too, a real one this time.
Mateoand Sasha stood together for a moment by the pool, whose surfacewas restless in the dawn breeze, scattering the pieces of a roundreflected moon.Sasha raised his fingertips to Mateo's chest,rested them lightly there just in the V of his shirt.He wanted tofeel the powerful thud of his heart.He wanted to see, just for amoment, the differences between them, the nuance of their skincolour by moonlight, Mateo's honey and his own shadow.“Go on,” hewhispered.“I'll see you again, okay?Goodbye.”
He lethimself back into the house.The keycard and thumbprint process hadbecome automatic by now.He hardly even minded any more.He didn'tmind the sense of the glass and adobe closing aroundhim.
All heminded was his computer, still active and rolling the clip.He hadbeen enchanted when Laurie had bought it for him, a first seriousgift.It was out of date now, by the standards of Laurie's world,but Sasha had resisted his offers to replace it.Who could needmore than he’d already had?
Hepicked the laptop up.He weighed it for a moment in his hands, theimages painting themselves onto his skin, stretching andconstricting the pupils of his eyes in the flickering light.Sashadrew one deep breath.Then he stepped back, took the biggest swinghe could and smashed the machine hard against the corner of theironwood table.
Thescreen cracked straight away.The rest of it was tough and wellmade, and it took a dozen blows before the back fell off, the driveshooting out to clatter on the tiles.Five more—Sasha was counting;somehow in the maelstrom of his blinding, choking rage keepingtrack—and the screen broke from the keyboard.Only then did it godark.Animal noises tore from him, harsh grunting sobs.He hurledthe board after the screen, so hard he threw himself off-balanceand crashed to his knees.Shards of metal and plastic drove intohis palms.The pain was a fiery relief.He let the pieces dig deep.After a while he subsided against the leg of the table and satgasping, sightlessly watching the dawn.
***
When thedoorbell rang, Sasha didn't recognise it: the staff let themselvesin and out noiselessly, and they had had no visitors.The bell wastasteful and soft, a brush of wind chimes.He almost went back tosleep.
It wasvery persistent.There was also something bizarrely familiar aboutit, as if Sasha could have worked out from its pattern of repeatswho was standing outside.Neat, delicately impatient...He got up.He brushed bits of circuitry off his jeans, ran his hands acrosshis hair.That would have to do.Hands were patting at the frontdoor now.An idea was forming in Sasha's head.It seemed toounlikely to be true, but if he didn't go and open up right now,this visitor would neatly and delicately bring the housedown.
The doorswung wide as soon as he'd undone its array of catches and bolts.Sasha was made of shadows now and stepped back easily into them.Aslender figure shot past him.On its heels was Elena Dracinsky, farmore sedate.She stopped in the doorway, turned to Sasha andaccorded him a grave and courteous nod.
Sashareturned it on reflex.Then he looked across the hall, theglittering atrium now filled up with early morning sun.Clara hadcome to a halt.She spun round, finally located Sasha and froze tostillness, her sable hair escaping from its pleat.For an instantshe looked as though she would burst into tears.Then she visiblyset the reaction aside.Her face set into a mask of passionatedetermination Sasha knew well.“You're not to believe init.”
Sashaleaned his brow against the door.“Why?”he asked tiredly.Hisvoice was shadows and cobwebs too.“Don't you think it'strue?”
