Strong Enough Page 6

  “Maxim. You can’t stay here.”

  “There’s no other option.” He eyed the peeling paint, the bare mattress.

  “There’s always another option. You can stay with me until your savings get here.” Two days. I could handle that, right? “Will you be able to get a better place then?”

  “I don’t think so. My savings aren’t huge, and I need to buy a laptop. I’d also like to save some money for screenwriting classes.” He shook his head and spoke with certainty. “You’ve done enough for me, Derek. I appreciate the offer, but this is what I can afford, so it’s where I’m going to live for now. I’ll be fine.”

  Mike entered the room again, a wad of paper towels in his hand, which he used to wipe up the cockroach mess.

  I exhaled, my eyes closing briefly. Just get out of here. He’s not your responsibility. He made the choice to move here impulsively, now let him deal with the consequences of his actions.

  But I couldn’t make myself leave.

  “So, what’s the deal? You staying or not?” Mike asked.

  “Yes,” said Maxim.

  “No.” I met his eyes, squaring my shoulders defiantly.

  He squared his too. “Yes. Thank you for everything, Derek, but I don’t need your help.”

  “I know you don’t. But you’re going to take it. Now let’s go.” I turned and strode as quickly as I could out of the apartment, through the lobby, and out the front door, gulping the fresh air.

  Motherfucker.

  What had I done?

  Ten

  MAXIM

  I could have resisted. I almost did.

  I’d come here knowing it would be a struggle. I wasn’t afraid of it. And I didn’t want Derek to think I couldn’t handle myself. Didn’t want him to feel like my problems were his problems. Didn’t want him to see me as someone who needed to be rescued, because I didn’t.

  But hell if I didn’t follow him out of that apartment anyway. I justified it by telling myself only a fool would let his pride keep him trapped in that filthy place, but deep down, I knew better.

  The truth was, I liked Derek. I liked the way he took control of a situation. I liked the sharp edges of his gravelly voice. I liked the look in his eye when he wanted something done his way, the one that said don’t fuck with me. And when I looked at his life, I saw someone who had done things right. He’d decided what he wanted, and he’d gone after it. I knew I could learn from him.

  He was just outside the stairwell door when I caught up with him. “Hey,” I said. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “I know I don’t.” He slipped his sunglasses on again. “What did you pay for that piece of shit mattress?”

  “Four hundred dollars.”

  “Get it back. For half that, I’ll rent you my guest room for two weeks.” He started walking toward the parking lot, and I followed.

  “I’ll pay the full four hundred.” Accepting his generosity was one thing, but I wanted to do my part. My pride demanded it.

  “You can’t afford it right now, Max. Trust me. I know what decent apartments cost here.”

  “Then I’ll pay it back eventually,” I argued, only slightly distracted that he’d shortened my name. It suggested familiarity, closeness even. I liked it.

  We reached the car and got in. “How much is in your savings?” he asked.

  “About two thousand dollars.”

  He looked at me. Blinked. “We need to find you a job.”

  “Of course. I was planning on it.”

  “You didn’t say that when I asked about a plan before.” His brow furrowed.

  “Because if I did,” I admitted, “I might cause it not to happen.”

  His expression grew even more puzzled, and then suspicious. “Is this a Russian thing?”

  I almost smiled. “Yes.”

  Exhaling, he turned on the engine. “At the risk of causing you bad juju or whatever, I’ll see if I can help you find something. Ellen might even have some work for you at the bar.”

  “I’d love to work for Ellen. And I have some experience working at a bar.”

  “Great,” he said, pulling into traffic. “Although you know how Ellen is. She claims to hire people based on their auras, not their resumes. How’s your aura?”

  I laughed. “Pretty good, I think? Although I’m not really sure what an aura is, exactly.”

  “Me neither.” He shook his head. “But somehow it’s worked out for her so far. The bar does well.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  “It is. I’m happy for her. For a while, I was worried she’d never figure her life out. Name a profession and she’s probably wanted to be that at one point—astronaut, circus performer, veterinarian, ballerina, flight attendant. She’s always been all over the place. Totally opposite of me.”

  “But you get along so well.”

  “We do,” he mused. “It’s funny because our brother, David, is sort of the opposite of both of us. He never wanted to work for the family business because he wants nothing to do with corporate culture. Says he doesn’t have the stomach for negotiation. But he was always really focused on studying marine biology and becoming a professor.”

  “A professor. That’s awesome.”

  Derek shrugged. “He seems happy, especially now that he’s married and has a baby. I wish they lived closer, although he’s probably glad for the distance from my parents. He doesn’t get along with my dad very well.”

  I didn’t know what to say. Curiosity burned in me, but I’d never ask. Luckily, he went on.

  “It’s nothing big, they’re just really different. And my dad was hard on us growing up. Very religious, very demanding. But also very proud of us when we met his expectations. I was better at handling the pressure than David was.”

  I nodded, taking it all in. “Your family is religious?”

  “My parents are. I’m not, not really. But I went to Catholic schools. I was an altar boy and all that. I don’t necessarily agree with everything the Church says and does, but when you’ve had the doctrine drilled into you for that long, at home and at school, some of it sticks with you, whether you want it to or not.”

  “Ah.”

  “I like some of its basic ideas,” Derek continued, “the value of human life, the importance of family and community, the obligation to help others.”

  “I can tell both you and your sister like to help others.”

  He seemed a little embarrassed by the compliment, his cheeks coloring. “What about your family? Are you close?”

  “To my mother, yes. I barely know my dad.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. He and my mother were really young when they had me, and he took off soon after.”

  “What about your sister?”

  “Different father. But that guy took off too.”

  “Fuck. Guess your mom really has a type.”

  “Yeah. I feel bad for her. I think she always wanted that perfect family.”

  He didn’t say anything after that, and I wondered if he was thinking that she should have controlled her feelings more. Not acted on them when it was clear she wouldn’t end up happy. But I didn’t really get that—how could you help acting on your feelings? What else was there to act on?

  A few minutes later, we arrived at his house. “Dammit,” he said, slowing down as he pulled into the drive.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I just noticed the landscapers didn’t show again. They were supposed to come this morning. I don’t know why I give these assholes a second chance.”

  “What do you need done?”

  He made a noise. “Everything. And I can do some of it, but I inherited these fucking rose bushes with the house that are more high-maintenance than a beautiful woman. And if I didn’t like the way they looked so much, I’d tear them the hell out.”

  “I can take care of it.”

  He looked at me like I was nuts. “You have landscaping experience too?”

  I shrugged. �
��I’ve had a lot of different jobs. And growing up, I spent every summer at my grandparents’ country house, and I helped take care of the gardens there. And yes, we had roses. My grandmother treated them like babies.”

  “You have roses in Russia?”

  “Yes, Derek.” I laughed, enjoying the feel of his name in my mouth. “It’s not snow and ice all the time there. We do have sun and warmth in summer.”

  “Sorry.” He grimaced as he pulled into the garage. “I promise to get over my preconceived ideas about where you come from.”

  “And I promise to help you out around here and then get out of your way in two weeks.”

  Derek turned off the car. “You’re not in my way.”

  We sat there in the darkened car for a moment, and I thought he was going to say something else, but he didn’t.

  There were more flowerbeds and gardens in the backyard. Derek stood in the driveway frowning at all of them before checking his watch. “Fuck, it’s two o’clock already, and I haven’t even gone to the store yet. I might not be able to use the patio tonight. It’s all weedy and overgrown back here.”

  It wasn’t, the yard actually looked very nice, and the patio was beautiful. But I knew that for Derek, there was no such thing as “good enough.” It had to be perfect. “I can do it all. Honestly. Just show me where everything is, and I’ll get it done in a few hours.”

  He looked at me sideways. “You sure?”

  “Positive. I like this work, and I’m good with my hands.”

  The sunglasses covered his eyes, but the slight drop of his chin made me think he looked at my hands after I said that. He cleared his throat a second later. “Okay, then. The job’s yours. I’ll deduct from your rent.”

  “No. This is a favor, Derek,” I said as we walked toward the house. “I’ll still pay the full rent.”

  He unlocked the back door and pushed it open. “Whatever. But you’re going to need some money for clothes too.”

  Oh, yeah. I’d sort of forgotten about that. While I was trying to think of a solution, he went on.

  “Let’s not worry about rent for now, okay?” He set his keys and sunglasses on the shelf and took off his shoes. “When your savings get here, we can talk. I’ll help you make a budget. And we’ll get you that job so you can start saving for classes.”

  I removed my shoes too, and followed him into the kitchen. “That sounds perfect. I don’t know how to thank you.” (A total lie. I could think of plenty of ways to thank him.)

  He leaned back against the counter and took out his phone. “Pay it forward someday.”

  “I will.” Turning away from him, I removed the hoodie he’d loaned me and hung it on the back of a chair. It was warm enough outside that I wouldn’t need it. When I was done working, I’d ask him if I could wash some things, and then stay out of sight during his dinner party. “I’m going to get started out there.”

  “Tools are in the garage.” He didn’t look up from his phone. “I’ll be out in a minute. I’m just going over my grocery list.”

  “Okay.” I put my shoes on again and went out the back door into the sunshine, unable to keep the smile off my face.

  This already felt like a new life.

  Eleven

  DEREK

  I kept my eyes on my phone until I knew he was out of my view.

  Then I exhaled.

  This wouldn’t be easy, having him around for two weeks. And yet…it would be completely easy. Enjoyable, even. It was the craziest thing—I felt comfortable with Maxim in a lot of ways. He was easy to talk to, he made me laugh, he was interesting and fun and different. I liked hearing about his life in Russia, too. It gave me some insight into why he was the way he was.

  Where it got uncomfortable was when my body reacted to him. A hitch in my breath. A tightening in my chest. Heat in my blood. Provocation of that thing in me that existed only to want and didn’t care about the consequences.

  It was maddening that I couldn’t feel those things for someone like Carolyn, who was perfect for me in every other way. Why should it be Maxim who ignited that fire in me, rather than her? What was it about him that wouldn’t let me out of its grasp? Why was I being punished this way?

  As if being pulled by magnetic force, I walked over to the chair where he’d hung the sweatshirt I’d loaned him. Glancing out the sliding glass door to the patio, I saw him standing by the rosebushes at the side of the yard, the sun glinting off the gold in his hair. I picked up the sweatshirt and brought it to my face.

  It was still warm from his body.

  I inhaled slowly. Soap. Fabric softener. But there was something else there, too. At the deep end of my breath was the heady, masculine scent of his skin, and I held it captive in my lungs, closed my eyes.

  You inside me.

  My mind feasted on the scent. I felt my lips on his skin, my hands on his back, my chest against his. He was warm and strong and hard and—

  Two quick knocks on the glass door made me jump, my eyes flying open to find Maxim standing there on the patio, his head turned, so he was looking away from me. I immediately dropped the sweatshirt onto the chair and slid the door open.

  “Hey.”

  He looked at me, his face impassive. “Hey. Do you have some gloves?”

  “Uh, yeah.” My face was probably fifty fucking shades of red. But he hadn’t seen anything, right? “Be right out.”

  I put my shoes on again and went out to the garage, where I rummaged around on my workbench shelves. Where the hell were those gloves? I knew where everything was in this garage, so why the fuck couldn’t I find them? My mind was cloudy with confusion and shame. Had he seen what I was doing? He couldn’t have. He wasn’t even looking at me when he knocked. And even if he had, he knew how I was about neatness. He probably thought I was going to hang the sweatshirt up somewhere, or put it in the guest room.

  My heart rate slowed, and I remembered where the gloves were. I pulled them off the shelf and slipped them on for a second, flexing and fisting my hands.

  “Find some?” Maxim called from outside.

  “Yeah.” Quickly I tugged them off and headed into the sunshine, squinting at the light. I’d forgotten to put my sunglasses back on. “Here you go.”

  I handed them to him and watched him put them on, sliding his fingers into the spaces mine had occupied a moment before.

  It was almost like touching him.

  “Hey.” I switched my phone to my left hand and reached for a couple lemons with my right.

  “Hey, big brother. How’d it go today with our Russian orphan? Thanks again for doing that.”

  “No problem. It was, uh, interesting.” I grabbed a few limes too, in case anyone wanted them for cocktails.

  “Did you drop him off?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “Yes and no?”

  I frowned at the bunches of herbs, scanning the selection for thyme. “I took him to the apartment he was supposed to live in, but I couldn’t leave him there.”

  “Why not?”

  “It was disgusting.”

  Ellen laughed. “Like what, the toilet seat was up? There were damp towels on the floor? Cookie crumbs on the counter?”

  “No, like roach-infested, filthy dirty, stained-mattress, you-couldn’t-pay-me-a-million-dollars-to-stay-one-night-there disgusting.” A woman perusing vegetables to my right gave me a horrified look and moved away.

  My sister gasped. “Seriously? So he wouldn’t stay?”

  “No, he was fine with it. I mean, he wasn’t, of course he wasn’t, but he said he’d be okay and it was what he could afford and it was only temporary.”

  “Wait, I thought he was staying with a friend, the one that didn’t show up last night.”

  “No. That guy was just going to give him a ride to the apartment. But his car broke down in the mountains or something.”

  She laughed. “Thanks for nothing.”

  “Exactly. Anyway, I couldn’t leave him. It was that bad.”

  “
Wow. So what did you do with him?”

  “What could I do with him? His mom is wiring his savings, but it won’t be here until Monday. So I brought him home with me.”

  “Of course you did.” She giggled. “You big softie.”

  I grimaced, scouring the tiers of root vegetables. Where the fuck was the fennel? “I’m not a softie. It’s only temporary, and I’m telling you, nobody could have left a friend in that place.”

  “You guys are friends now? That’s so cute.”

  “We’re not friends exactly, I just—I don’t know what we are.” Spying a bag of fennel, I grabbed it and tossed it into my cart. “But I said I’d help him.”

  “Help him with what?”

  “With everything, Ellen. He’s the nicest guy in the world, but he moved here, like, on a whim and really didn’t plan for it.”

  “He moved here? I thought he was just visiting.”

  “He wants to stay.” I switched my phone to my right ear and pushed my cart toward crates of potatoes and onions in the middle of the produce section. “He wants to be a screenwriter.”

  “Doesn’t everybody?”

  “Right. So he’s got about two thousand dollars saved up, with which he needs to buy food, shelter, a laptop, and screenwriting classes for the foreseeable future.”

  “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.”

  “That’s what I told him.” I tossed a few onions and a big bag of Russet potatoes into my cart. “I said he could stay for two weeks, during which I’m going to help him make a budget and find somewhere to move that he can afford once he gets a job.”

  “A job?”

  “That’s where you come in. Can you hire him?”