Andrew holed up in his room for several days, stealing the daylight after work to play the Pilar. Fiddling by day didn’t bother his neighbors as much as doing it by night.

One day, a knock came at his door, and Cyril’s voice came from the other side when he didn’t answer. Niko missed him, as did Cyril, who didn’t think for a moment that he and Dmitri were involved.

The old man’s voice then dropped as he explained in broken English that Sasha was a good man, and so was Andrej—there was no reason for them to dislike each other. Andrew remained quiet, unwilling to open the door until confident Cyril had gone.

Another week passed before a new knock disturbed his playing.

“Go away,” said Andrew.

“It’s me, Sam,” his friend sang. “I know you’re in there, twinkzilla,”

Andrew happily put the Pilar back in its case and slid it under the bed.

“Did I interrupt a jacking-off session?” Sam asked when the door opened.

“No,” Andrew smirked. “Get in here, bitch,”

The two embraced, Sam reeking of Drakkar Noir and wearing a hoodie long enough to cover his shorts. “You butched up your door greeting since I was last here,” he said, closing the door. “Niko says you’re mad at him,”

“I’m not happy with him.” Andrew sat cross-legged on the floor as Samil fell onto the bed. “Did he send you here?”

“Cyril’s birthday is tonight,” Sam said. “I was told not to come back without you,”

“Why is he so sweet?” wondered Andrew.

Samil closed an eye. “Cyril didn’t send me,”

“You look like shit,” Andrew whispered, unwilling to talk of Sash.

“I’ve had better days,” he sighed.

“You can talk to me, Sam,”

“Can I really?”

Andrew joined him on the bed.

“Of course, you can.”

After a beat, the chubby boy cleared his throat.

“I think my brother is dead,”

“He hasn’t called?” asked Andrew.

“My mother got a postcard from South Carolina.” Sam pursed his lips. “But it’s postdated the week Tadeshi was supposedly in Florida,”

A knot tightened in Andrew’s stomach.

“Cops are looking for him, right?”

“A couple of Feds came by the house saying they hadn’t seen him in weeks.” Samil’s voice went flat, though his eyes shifted. “They asked if we heard from him. My mom didn’t say shit about the postcard,”

“What did Radek say?”

“Radeki was the last to see Konni,” Sam said, voice breaking.

Andrew hugged him until the tears stopped.

“Why are you still with him, Sam?”

Samil closed one eye. “Sash says to keep your enemies close,”

“Why are you talking to that fucker?” he asked. “He probably pulled the trigger,”

“I checked his gun before he left for Atlantic City,” Sam said. “It wasn’t fired, and he hadn’t cleaned it,”

Andrew’s chest tightened. “Glass Eye was in Atlantic City?”

“Yeah.” Sam pushed air out his nose and then regarded him warmly. “Get dressed. I don’t want to show up without you,”

“Should you even go back there?”

“I’ve known them most of my life,” Sam said. “They wouldn’t hurt my mom or me,”

“If they killed Konni, they don’t care about you,”

Samil’s nostrils flared as if tears might return.

“I’ll come with you,” Andrew said to him. “First, we’ll hang out here for a bit, okay?”

Sam readily agreed, and they spent the afternoon gobbling snacks and sharing a forty while playing multiple rounds of Super Mario. Long after nine that night, they departed, the full moon giving the streets a strange glow.

♪

Samil and Andrew walked into a serious yet hilarious situation.

Cyril sat in the kitchen, dressed like a good birthday boy in his best tracksuit, but that wasn’t the funny part.

Sash stalked out the bathroom doorway, clad only in black boxer briefs, a red A-shirt, and snowy white socks. His face twisted in revulsion as he pointed at Radeki and demanded to know, in Polish, how anyone could leave the underside of a toilet seat so foul.

“I didn’t do it, Sasha,” Radek defended, shirtless in a pair of red trainers. The three stripes around the hem were no longer white after years of wear.

 Nikola strolled out of the bedroom, pulling on what looked like the red sweatshirt that matched his brother’s pants.

“What’s going on?” he said, his eyes bright when they saw Andrew.

“Look at that toilet seat,” Sash barked.

The lumbering Ukrainian poked his head into the bathroom. “Just put it down, then you won’t see it,”

“You would sit on that?” Sash questioned. “Knowing it looked like that underneath?”

Niko shrugged, “I didn’t know I made such a mess yesterday,”

Samil laughed on Andrew’s shoulder.

“You?” Sash said with his hands on his hips. “Get in there and clean that mess,”

Cyril’s chuckling followed.

“It’s not that bad,” Niko exclaimed. “You’re being weird,”

“Oh, I’m being germ-phobic?” Sash then looked at Samil. “Come look at this Sam-Sam, tell me if you would take a shit here, knowing this was underneath your ass,”

Samil came between them and glanced into the bathroom, with Andrew following and spying past his ear. The white wooden seat was up, its underside covered with brown specs and tan spots.

“That’s fucking gross,” said Andrew, quickly returning to the kitchen.

“There is spray soap behind the toilet and rags under the sink,” Sash scolded the taller man in Polish. “You take a shit, you lift the toilet and clean it, Nikola,”

“More like N-e-coli,” Sam teased, staring at Niko. “Girl, what the fuck are you eating?”

“You see,” Sash yelled. “I rest my case,”

“Your case?” Radek asked, looking at Sam. “Case of what? What this mean?”

Cyril cracked open his metal box and noisily flooded the tabletop with dominos.

“It’s what lawyers say,” Sam told him. “Like when you’re in court and the persecutor tells the judge what you did wrong, then he says, I rest my case,”

“Oh, I know this,” Radek nodded. “You a solicitor, now, Sash?”

“In this country, we do not call lawyers that,” laughed Sam.

“What is solicitor then?” asked Radek.

“A prostitute,” Sam said.

“Solicitation is the crime,” Andrew clarified.

“The crime,” Sash pointed at the bathroom. “Is what your brother did to that toilet seat,”

“You’re leaving soon,” Cyril laughed. “You no worry about filthy toilet bowls anymore,”

Niko appeared with a small trash bag full of dirty paper towels.

“I cleaned it and emptied trash,” the Ukrainian assured in broken English, tossing the tied bag into the kitchen can. “Make sure you put note in next bathroom you share for anyone that might take shit in the toilet,”

Sash stared at Cyril. “He has the temerity to try and make me feel like I’m overacting,”

Andrew began playing dominos with Cyril and Samil, refusing to acknowledge how hot the one-eyed Pole looked in his underwear while seething at Niko.

The brothers changed before more men arrived, trading glances when one of them brought a young woman. From his viewpoint at the table, Andrew noticed the subtle differences around the apartment since Sash’s return; food filled the cabinets, boxes of booze sat in the kitchen corners, and a new stereo sound system sat by the window chair.

Niko loaded some silver disks into its multi-changer, and after pushing a few buttons, a song about being better off alone began its synthesized beat. Andrew celebrated close to Cyril, who offered vodka shots that dulled the sweetness of the celebratory golden marshmallow cake.

A faint knocking took Samil to the front door, and when he returned, he whispered a name in Andrew’s ear.

Andrew rose from the table and fled the kitchen, his backside unintentionally pressing against someone with a larger-than-average something in his pants. Months ago, he would’ve seized up in flight or fight mode, but the man behind him smelled divine, and he took solace in being interested.

When he turned, though, he found Sash with his beer raised high and his hips back, affording Andrew safe passage. Unwilling to fret over the interlude, he walked briskly to the front door and peered through the spyhole.

Dmitri Boscov stood there, shifting nervously from one foot to the next.

Andrew surveyed the empty hall before opening the door and quickly closing it behind him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, taking the young man’s arm and guiding him toward the elevator. “Are you crazy?”

“I got to tell you, Drew, or I’ll go crazy.” Dmitri’s hand found Andrew’s back as the elevator doors parted. “I got accepted to the dance school in Berkeley,”

They howled and jumped like two children.

“Wait,” said Andrew, vodka warming his brain. “I thought you weren’t doing this,”

“Well, I decided not to go to California for William,” Dmitri explained. “But room and board for one semester in San Francisco. I’d be an idiot not to go.”

“Yes, you must go,” said Andrew, hugging him.

Then, Dmitri’s body stiffened. The young man detached, his smile vanishing at something past Andrew’s shoulder.

“I’ll see you at work, Drew,” he said, quickly entering the elevator.

The doors came together, and the hall rug beneath Andrew’s feet shifted.

“He’s not your friend, Andrej,” came Sash’s voice.

“You’re not my friend either, Glass Eye.” Andrew faced him. “Neither is Niko,”

“What’s wrong with you?” Smoke curled from the cigar in his mouth. “Nikola cares for you, I think he loves you.”

Andrew let out a derisive laugh. “What do you care about my life?”

“You have your problems, Andrej,” Sash moved off then. “I won’t bait you,”

Andrew moved with him. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not going to argue with an emotionally wounded man,” Sash said over his shoulder.

Andrew’s nerves tightened.

“When you leave, Glass Eye,” he said, following him. “Will you tell Cyril that Niko’s fucking Dmitri?”

Fingers thumped Andrew’s chest, pinning him to the wall.

Sash retreated the moment they connected, his scarred face colored by shame.

“I’m sorry, Andrej,” he gasped in Slovak.

Vodka boiled in Andrew’s stomach as he slid slowly to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Sash whispered again, stumbling back to the apartment.

Andrew sat on the floor, watching the man vanish inside. Music entered the hall as the door opened, echoes fading in the anxiety that shrouded his head. Thoughts of chasing after Sash overtook his need to flee—those fingers touching him—he wanted to feel that touch again.

Without warning, Niko flew out the apartment door, his tall, gangly body folding as it hit the wall. Sash followed, kicking him as he rolled onto his back and shielded his head with his arms. Sash then cursed Niko out in his language for being stupid and a fool.

The others emerged, Cyril pulling Sash back as Radek came between them. Angry words passed in the doorway, with Sash revealing to Radek that ‘the idiota is fucking Boscov.’

Samil appeared before Andrew, his voice fading in the black.