Chapter 36
ROMAN
I had my first drink when I was twelve—from my father, of course.
Vodka, of course.
Papa used to give me a little half glass of the stuff every night with dinner, to “toughen me up”. He said it was the Russian way, end of story.
I know if my mom had still been around, she wouldn’t have allowed it. But she was gone, and with her, any sense of comfort or peace in our house.
After she died, there was just Papa, his temper, and vodka.
By high school, I was having a drink before I sat down for my nightly one at the dinner table, and sometimes another after that too. High school is also when I discovered cocaine, ecstasy, Xanax, Adderall, lorazepam, Percocet, oxycodone, and anything else I could get my hands on.
But alcohol has always been my numbing agent of choice.
My one great love.
At Knightsblood, all bets were off. I mean, it’s college: drinking and debauchery are expected. So I partied, and then partied some more. Then kept on partying even after everyone else had gone home.
Somehow, that never really stopped. And now here I am, twenty-nine years old, looking down the barrel of the hell I just shook and cried and puked through.
I wasn’t being dramatic when I told him I was pretty sure he saved my life.
Because without specifically him asking me to stop, I doubt I ever would have. And there’s no end to the story I was writing before other than winding up dead before the age of forty.
I also know that this the fight doesn’t stop just because I’ve made it nine days without drinking.
This is just the beginning of beating that demon inside me, and that might be an even harder pill to swallow than the shakes and the puking a few days ago.
Wheldon
So what do you think?
I stare at the phone screen.
I think I fucking hate this and I want a goddamn drink.
But I’m not having one. Because I’m not weak. I’m not pathetic.
I am not controlled by the darkness inside me.
Me
Yeah, I’ll be there. 8 tonight at Assumption Church on West 33rd?
Wheldon
You got it
Guess I’m going to AA.
Wheldon, the forty-seven-year-old realtor, cold-plunge enthusiast, and father of two, leads a men’s meeting on Tuesday nights. He also just became my sponsor.
Wheldon
Listen, where you are right now is the hard part. But it’s also the easiest. All you have to do is keep moving forward. You’re stronger than you think. And you’re gonna love the guys. It’s a real good group.
I swallow, smiling wryly.
Me
Does it get easier?
Wheldon
Yes. But it gets harder, too. It’s one day at a time, man.
I glance over the AA PDF he’s already emailed over, and my mouth twists.
Me
There’s a lot of God in AA, huh?
Wheldon
It’s up to you. Does the big guy’s name pop up a lot in the original Twelve Traditions? Yeah. But it’s not mandatory to your recovery.
Me
I’m not religious at all.
Maybe I used to be. But I think I lost that when I lost my mom.
Wheldon
All good, Roman. I’m a complete atheist. Some of the guys are real into the religious aspect, some aren’t. We’ve got a Catholic priest in the mix as well as a self-described Wiccan Warlock.
I smile. Then one of the questions I’ve been avoiding swims to the surface.
Me
How well does AA work?
Wheldon
Honestly, it depends on the person.
Me
What’s the relapse rate?
Wheldon
90%
Fuck.
My heart drops as I stare at the screen. I only have a ten percent chance of not drinking again. Those odds suck.
Wheldon
What helps the most, beyond group meetings, is having someone in your life. You got good family, or a girlfriend/boyfriend/whatever?
Evie’s face swims into my consciousness, together with Val’s.
Me
Yeah.
Wheldon
Then you got this, brother. You’re going to get through it. See you at group?
Me
Yeah. Thanks, man.
I sink back in my chair, that abysmal success rate pressing on my chest.
Ten fucking percent. If I’m lucky.
The door to my penthouse opens, and I smile when I see Val walking in, dance bag slung over his shoulder.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he grins.
Goddammit.
I love when he says that to me. I just hate the way it makes me blush like a fucking teenage girl.
“Hey yourself,” I smile. I stand as he walks over, dropping his bag along the way before wrapping his arms around me. He kisses me, and I melt a little.
“How was today?”
“Way better now,” I grin. “How was rehearsal?”
“Stalin was in excellent spirits today. I was only banished to the gulag twice and faced one firing squad.”
I chuckle. I’ve met Madame Kuzmina a handful of times. The woman is terrifying.
Val steps back, smiling as his gaze drags over me.
“What?” I mumble.
“You look good. And not just in an I want to fuck you way. I mean you legit look a lot healthier. Your color is coming back.”
“I feel better. Just…” I glance around.
“Feeling trapped?”
That's one word for it. I haven’t left the apartment in ten days.
“That and…antsy. Too full of energy. I haven’t worked out or run or anything in almost two weeks.”
Val’s lips curl. “Well… What are you doing now?”
Fuck. Part of why I haven’t left the house in ten days is because I’m not sure I trust myself not step into the first liquor store or bar that I see.
But I can’t stay here forever.
“What did you have in mind?”
He grins. “You still a member at that fancy gym?”
Fuck. Yes.
I groan, relishing in the pump of blood through my muscles as I push up, lifting the plate-laden barbell off my chest. I let it settle back down, then grunt as I lift it again.
Holy fuck, does it feel good to be working out. Plus, here at Equilibrium, there's no temptation like if we went out to eat or something. Here, it’s just me and my muscles, being used for the first time in almost two weeks.
I grunt, getting the final two reps off before I rack the barbell. I exhale and sit up, turning to see Val just about finishing up his set over at the squat rack.
My eyes drop to his ass as he lowers into the squat. I grit my teeth, biting back a groan as my cock thickens.
Alcohol isn't the only thing I haven’t had in ten days.
Wild how puking, shaking, and crying on the floor can kill the mood.
I stand from the bench. Just then, I feel a presence behind me.
“Hey man, are you—wait, Roman?”
I turn, trying to place the tall, built guy with sleeve tattoos in front of me.
He smiles. “We, uh… We’ve fought before.”
Then it hits me. We’ve fought before in a ring, at the underground fight club.
“Lukas,” he grins, sticking out a hand.
“Lukas Komarov, of course,” I chuckle, gripping his hand firmly and shaking it. “Good to see you, man.”
We vaguely know each other, at least of each other, outside the fight club, too. Lukas’s father Viktor helms the Kashenko Bratva, which has a seat on the Bratva High Council—another Bratva “governing body” similar to the Iron Table on which my father sits.
“How’ve you been?” I shake my head. “I haven’t been to a fight in a while.”
Lukas rolls his eyes. “Me neither.” He lifts his shoulders. “Kids, man,” he chuckles. “Two of them. They're the best, but… They keep me pretty busy.”
I smile. “Yeah, I bet.”
He nods past me at the bench. “Hey, are you wrapped up here?”
I glance over to Val on the other side of the gym.
“Not quite. My boyfriend has one more set.”
The world fucking stops turning as the word falls out of my mouth. For a second, I’m so stunned that it feels like I’m going to throw up. I turn to Lukas again, expecting…I don’t even know.
Cruel amusement? Disgust? To be mocked?
But none of that happens.
“No problem, man,” he grins. Then he glances at his watch. “Shit, you know what, I gotta run anyway.”
He looks up at me again, not a single drop of disdain in his eyes as he sticks his hand out. I’m still numb as I shake it. The fuck just happened?
“Good to see you, Roman. Hope we can rematch at the fights, yeah?”
“Uh…yeah. Sounds good.”
I’m still standing there like an idiot when a hand lands heavily on my shoulder.
“Who the fuck was that?” Val growls, scowling at Lukas’s back.
“That was…” A weird smile creeps over my face. “I think the first person I came out to besides you.”
I frown as I suddenly pull out my phone.
Now that it’s out there, I don't even care that I just kind of came out to the guy. But there’s someone else I should have told first.
I tap on the text convo with Evie that Val, bless him, continued as me when I was out of commission.
Me: hey
Evie: Hi hi! :)
Me: Got plans tonight? We could do that dinner?
Evie: No plans! And YAY! :D
Evie: Would it be lame to have it at the house? I’ve got some stuff I need to do here tonight.
Evie: Papa's in Chicago on business, btw ;)
I grin.
Me: In that case, definitely.
Evie: <3 <3 Can’t wait!
Me: Mind if I bring a guest?