Page 63 of The Failed Audition

A couple larger, older guys say something in Russian as they enter the living room, one fisting the bottle of red wine. They look vaguely familiar, with short cut hair and hard features. Maybe from the never-ending night or in passing at the gym.

There is a lot of testosterone in this room, and they’re all eyeing me like I’m a new species. “I…don’t speak Russian,” I put it out there, just like that.

Timo tilts his head. “No shit, Thora James. I thought you understood me all this time.” His smile brightens his whole face, a youthful glow about him. I also feel less socially inept.

One of the burlier guys sits on the couch’s armrest and flips through television channels with the remote, the stereo speakers adding to the general cacophony.

“We haven’t met,” someone says behind me.

I crane my neck over my shoulder and stare upside-down at a very tall guy, around Nikolai’s age, with short brown hair and ocean blue eyes, his jaw also unshaven. His shoulders also muscular and broad, but with a longer face, he seems pretty compared to Nikolai—not as hard, rugged or devilish. If I met him first, I wonder what my initial reaction would be.

“I’m Thora,” I tell him.

“Dimitri Kotova.”The tank,as Katya called him.

“He’s our cousin,” Luka says as he digs into his pocket. He pulls out a handful of plastic-wrapped mints.

“The rest of us are,” Dimitri says, gesturing to the other five guys. He saunters deeper into the room and snatches the wine bottle from another guy, pressing it to his lips. He makes a show of taking a large swig in front of me.

“Go back to Animal Planet,” Timo says, pointing at the television. “That giraffe was about to give birth.”

“I don’t want to see that shit,” the guy with the remote refutes.

“It’s the miracle of life,” Timo gapes. “What’s better than that?”

“Texas Hold ‘em.”

“Fuck giraffes.” Timo folds instantly, and when the channel turns to a professional poker tournament, he leans forward, hypnotized.

“Want one?” Luka asks me, my mind whirling in a dozen directions. He holds out a mint and I accept it with a smile—at least I think I smiled. Everything is moving really fast.

“Those better not be stolen.” Nikolai’s stern voice pricks my neck. He walks behind the couch, now dressed in black sweats. Itrain my eyes on his face, not on his dick. But he briefly looks to me like he knows that I’m thinking about it. Of course I am. I’m sure if the carpet had eyes, it’d be fixated on his cock too.

“They’refreemints,” Luka gawks. “I can’t steal things that’re set out for everyone to take.”

“You’re supposed to takeone, not the whole fucking bowl,” Nikolai shoots back.

“What do you do, Thora?” Dimitri suddenly asks, rerouting my attention. He sits on the coffee table, facing me, still clutching that wine bottle. His geometric tattoo peeks from the sleeve of his white tee, the inked design spindling up his neck. It makes me more aware of Nikolai’s tattoo, one I hardly ever notice since it’s on the inside of his bicep: a collection of fir trees with long lines as trunks, ending at the crease of his elbow.

I focus on the question at hand.What do I do?I guess I could answer this numerous ways. I choose the most honest one. “I work at Phantom.”

Dimitri smirks, and his crude gaze lingers on my boobs. “I heard they tip well if you have a cunt.” He chugs the wine.

My lips part, my insides turned to stone. I don’t even know how to respond.

“Stay! Stay!” Timo shouts at the television. He rests his hands on his head and groans. “What a moron.”

“Want another mint?” Luka asks, passing me a second one. I haven’t even unwrapped the first. Then Nikolai appears beside his nineteen-year-old brother, gesturing him to stand. Luka rises, and his collection of mints litters the carpet. Nikolai brushes a few off the cushion before sitting next to me, his arm wrapped protectively on the couch behind my head.

Dimitri and Nikolai seem to be having a testosterone-fueled staring contest that I don’t understand fully. This is the first impromptu gathering of relatives in Nikolai’s suite since I’ve been here, but something tells me that they happen often.

I decide to text Katya:I don’t know how you handle all these guys like this.She’s my hero.

“Fold! Fold! Come on!” Timo springs from his seat, arms extended at the television.

Dimitri fills the newly free spot on my left, and I go entirely rigid, a wine glass in one hand and my cell in the other. I try not to make eye contact, but I feel his arm ascending. About to swoop around my shoulders.

Nikolai beats him to it, tugging me closer to his body and away from Dimitri, more territorial than anything I’ve ever been caught in between.

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