Alley Cat
The Russos

If my feelings weren’t compromised, I would make an excellent spy.

I take note of my surroundings like a spy would. The Russos live in a twenty-one-million dollar brownstone house, the most expensive living in Manhattan. It’s a gated area, and once you make it past the gate, wolf heads jut out from its columns like gargoyles. Their dark carved eyes seem to move along with me as I approach the door. I’m moments away from entering a wolf den, and my hands moisten with my sweat. I ring the buzzer at the door and wait.

During the period of suspense, I brush down my red hoodie, finger comb through my hair, and scratch Todd behind his ears. I tell myself that I shouldn’t be so nervous. My sole intention of coming to Luka’s party is to gain as much evidence as I can to tie the Russos to Luis and Antonio.

And then what? Todd asks and looks up at me. What happens if they are guilty? How are you going to confront Luka?

I shrug and stare at the brown door in jittery anticipation. “I won’t know until I find out what exactly I should accuse him of. But what I do know is that Antonio produces drugs. And if I consider that with Raphael’s claim that the Russos are the ones selling them, then it would only be logical if I came here to observe any drug deals.”

Todd scoffs. I hold him belly side up and feel his long blue tail swish across my forearms. So what? You think the Russos are gonna sell drugs at their party out in the open like they’re passing out Halloween candy?

Todd looks at me with a challenging stare which I return with one of my own. Suddenly, I’m grateful to have my friend back. I didn’t realize how much I missed having someone to question my opinions and tell me things upfront. I smile and playfully boop Todd on the nose. “Maybe not out in the open. But this is a party after all. There will be small talk about work and drama and dating. Sometimes the most useful thing to do is to listen.”

I hear footsteps coming towards the door. As the doorknob slowly turns, Todd says to me. I’m worried about you, Hel. What if you find out something you didn’t want to know?

“I’m pretty sure I can handle it,” I say as I stare at the brown door, waiting for it to swing open. My heart thumps wildly in my chest and suddenly I’m conscious about how I look.

Todd continues to make his concerns known. You really like him.

“I’ll survive.” The words are hollow with meaning, causing them to sound lifeless the moment they escape my mouth. They’re repetitive. They’re the montra to my long and strange life.

But I don’t want you to survive. I want you to live.

Before the meaning of Todd’s words have time to sink in, the door opens to reveal Daphne standing on the steps. Her blonde hair is freshly curled and pinned back to expose the graceful features of her face. Now that I see her upclose, I see that she’s delicate like glass. Her blue eyes may match Shirisha’s in color but whereas Shirisha’s is bold and sharp, Daphne’s is sheer like ice. There’s intelligence in her face, the kind that aligns closer to philosophy and existential crises rather than cold-cut maths and sciences. The rest of her body is strong but concealed in an adolescent frame. Her wine colored dress flares out at the bottom, flattering her already feminine figure. And when she smiles, her lips glisten with clear gloss.

“Helene!” Her shrill voice shatters my intense focus and makes me jump. “It’s about time you arrived. Come on in!”

Without giving me enough time to take a step forward, she reaches out and takes me by the arm, pulling me in. I’m immediately taken off guard by her brutal strength. Daphne half-carries and half-drags me across her enormous house to the kitchen where she leaves me propped in front of a marble countertop. I’m so confused that I don’t know where to look first. A five-tier cake towers over me in all its frosted sweet glory. There’s a whole crew of bakers standing in rows beating the crap out of bread dough like the dough had insulted their grandmother’s frittata. Two million dollars worth of artifacts plaster the wall. The ceiling is painted to resemble the Sistine Chapel. And the flight of stairs is layered in red carpet. As I’m being over stimulated by overwhelming luxury, I don’t realize that Daphne is rambling on senselessly next to my ear.

“Let’s start from far left to far right, shall we? To the far left is Guisseppe. He’s my godfather’s cousin and owns a bakery down Bank Well. Next to him is my Zia Beatrice, my auntie. The big guy down there is Hard Hand Joe. And to be honest, I don’t even know how he’s related to us. We just know him as Hard Hand Joe.”

Joe slams a ball of dough so hard against the table that I could have sworn I heard the marble crack. Todd and I wince, but our discomfort is lessened when Joe waves a flour-caked hand at us.

“Hello!” Todd and I wave back awkwardly with rigid smiles plastered on our faces.

“Then over here, we have little Romeo frying up the cannoli shells. Isabella is the one rolling out the gnocchi. But my nonna? She’s the real star of the kitchen. No one can frost a cake like her!”

Daphne’s grandmother holds two loaded piping bags in her hands and blasts the five-tiered cake with perfectly symmetrical swirls. I watch in awe as frosting shoots out of the steel piping tips like hot bullets from a gun. Despite Nonna’s old age (the woman had to be at least ninety-five) and her hunched back, she works with precision and zooming speed that would make Buddy Valastro cry.

Daphne continues to introduce us to the rest of her forty-eight relatives and finally finishes by pointing out Lorenzo who owns two pie shops in Brooklyn and hosts cockfights in his apartment. Daphne’s shoulders collapse as she releases a winded exhale to convey her exhaustion. Todd and I do the same as well, grateful to have met all of the Russos. At least...we thought we met all of them until Daphne kicks all our hopes to high heaven.

“You...have a really big family,” I say with a nervous laugh.

“Oh! You thought that was everyone? HA! This house could hold at least three hundred people!” Daphne laughs so hard that she slaps the table. The marbled surface wobbles a bit before assuming its sturdy state. I catch myself holding my breath with each slam of Daphne’s dainty hand, totally oblivious to which would break first, Daphne’s hand or the table.

So much for delicate. Todd whispers right before Daphne yanks us off to give us a grand tour of the house. The tour lasts for a good half hour and for the most part, Daphne does most of the talking. I have to admit, I think I’m bound to continuously misjudge all the Russos. They always seem to have me standing at my toes and never cease to usurp the image of them I already had in my mind. I had expected Daphne to be more reserved, especially after her incident with Luis. I can’t wrap my head around the possibility that a bubbly chatterbox like Daphne could be capable of such an evil as turning humans into wolves. But then again, it’s always the ones we least suspect, isn’t it?

“There’s four floors to our home and eight bathrooms in total. So if you really need to go, you can easily find a bathroom no matter which floor you’re on.”

I force myself to laugh to cover up the sound of myself cracking open a closet door to take a sneak peek. To my utter disappointment, the closet is sparingly filled with neatly arranged suits and dresses. All the shoes are arranged to leave the floor vacant and every possible crevice fully exposed to the naked eye. No mysterious vault or drugs await me inside.

The sound of Daphne’s chirpy voice makes me jolt, and I spin around to face her. “Pretty dull, isn’t it? It pains me to say that this closet was supposed to be my mom’s.”

Daphne’s countenance changes but not in the way I expect. Her brows cinch together like she wants to feel something, but her expression slackens into a state of thoughtfulness. Her eyes scour the spacious closet and reflect her conflicting thoughts within them.

“I don’t know if Luka told you this already but our mom died when we were really young. Luka was only six and I was just a baby. I never got to meet her.”

“I’m sorry.” The moment the words leave my mouth, I bite down on my tongue. I never liked the phrase. It conveyed sympathy, yes. But sympathy couldn’t make a grieving person feel any less alone. If anything, it made them feel more alone than they already did. Human nature is strange like that. When you’re grieving, you suffer from the most unbearable pain and yet the antidote is the furthest thing from what you really desire. If anything, you want to savor the pain because the pain means something. Because...the person you lost meant something. And the loss of them is worth the pain, at least for a while.

But fortunately for me, Daphne isn’t grieving at all. She simply shrugs her shoulders and says, “Don’t be. To be honest, growing up without a mother didn’t really affect me that much. I always liked being the center of attention, the only girl of my family. Everyone always doted on me. I was Daddy’s girl and Luka was my best friend. The only thing I don’t like about having a dead mother is how my family would react when she’s mentioned. My papà always looks so sad every time he walks into this closet. He never threw away any of my mother’s things. And I always wished I could feel something so that I could suffer with him but I can’t. And it doesn’t really help that Luka would tell stories about her from time to time. I always find myself wishing to feel something. Awe. Sadness. Thoughtfulness. Anything really. But at the end of the day, the woman my family grieves for is a stranger I’ll never get to know.”

Daphne turns her face to me and I see that a flush of pink has tinted her pale cheeks. “I’m sorry. Am I talking too much again?”

“Not at all,” I say, shaking my head. “I think that was the most interesting thing you said since I got here. I really admire how open you are. It’s always hard to share personal things with strangers.”

“Strangers?” Daphne raises an arched brow. “We’re not strangers. My brother loves you. Luka doesn’t fall in love with just anybody, you know. So that means you’re already part of the family. We’re sisters now. I finally have a sister.”

Words catch at my throat, choking me. An overwhelming surge of emotions threatens to sweep me off my feet. I stammer on my tongue, so I only nod in agreement. This time, Daphne smiles warmly at me and gently takes me by the hand.

“Now let me show you around the rest of the house. The party’s going to start soon. It’ll be so much fun!”

Contrary to what Daphne said, the party, indeed, did not start soon.

I was told that the party started at six, but nothing happened until eight-thirty. The moment the sun retreats down into the horizon, the streets floods with taxis and with them came a crowd of guests that barge in the door. Modern and classic Sicillian songs play in alternate turns throughout the night. And despite the massive amounts of food prepared by the Russos, each guest brings even more food from their homes. It takes five extra long dinner tables and an additional 156 chairs to fit everyone. I get to sit next to Luka and Daphne near the head of the table but sitting directly at the head is their father, Emiliano Russo.

The moment I lay eyes on him, I realize where Luka inherited his looks from. Emiliano was rugged in a charming, masculine way. His salt and pepper hair does nothing to take away from his vitality. Even from afar, I could smell his stiff hair gel and his spicy cologne. He’s taller than Luka by a few inches, and his square jaw is covered in rough stubble. I’m a bit afraid of him, although I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s the muscles straining against his white button-down shirt or the intimidating gleam of his olive skin. His dark brown eyes weigh heavy on me as a small smile grows on his lips. It raises goosebumps across my skin.

Emiliano whispers something to Luka who smiles before repeating the message to Daphne who, in turn, sends the message to me. “My father wants to speak with you after dinner.”

My eyes widen from terror and I hear Luka and Daphne laugh. Daphne gives me a quick pulsing squeeze under the table for reassurance. “Don’t be afraid. My father won’t bite. He’s really excited to meet you.”

I don’t even have the chance to respond back before Emiliano taps his wine glass with his fork. The chiming instantly puts an end to all conversation, rendering the table silent with anticipation. Emiliano puts down his glass and inhales a deep breath before commencing his speech.

“My lovely family and friends. As you all know, we have come together to celebrate the day my beloved son was born. Even at my ripe old age, I still can’t believe that my little boy has grown into the strong, talented, man you see sitting next to me.” My gaze switches over to Luka who does his best to hide his blush. He glances over at me and mouths something that I can’t understand, so I just smile sheepishly in response. “My son has many endeavors. In two weeks, he will play for the New York Philharmonic as First Cellist. He is in the process of learning the Farsi language to become a translator for the FBI. And soon, he will inherit the Russo family business. May he bring greatness and glory to our name.”

Emiliano waits as a servant fills his glass up with wine. I look down at my glass to see that it had already been filled while I was absorbed in Emiliano’s speech.

“To Luka.” Emiliano raises his glass, prompting the rest of the guests to do so as well. I do the same.

To Luka! Everyone toasts in unison.

I take a sip of my wine and gasp. My tongue tingles like I had decided to lick an electric cord. I quickly put my glass down and see bubbles floating to the surface. Luka and Daphne giggle at me.

“Never had champagne before?”

Just as I’m about to open my mouth to tell them the truth, I hesitate and giggle instead. I’m a eight-hundred-year-old werecat so the likelihood that I’ve drank before is ridiculously high. I’ve drank beer, wine, and the hardest liquor known to mankind. But all the alcohol I ever had was bitter, the kind that burned as it went down. Champagne was relatively new, having accidentally been created in the 1800s. By the time it had peaked in popularity, I had already been living in America for a hundred years or so.

I pick up my glass and take another sip. The bubbles tingle at the tip of my mouth, and I swallow anyway. I think I spent more time studying the bubbles in my drink than eating.

Dinner goes by fast. We spend the rest of the night partying, dancing, and drinking. At some point, I hear Shirisha’s voice ring in my ears right as I’m about to down a shot of brown liquor.

Alright Hel. I know it’s been a while since you’ve crashed a party so I’ll simplify it for you. Be happy. Be fun. And act drunk without having to drink. And remember, sexualtity is a weapon. Use it.

The thought of Shirisha darkens my mood and I gulp down the shot, hoping it would deter her from my mind. The liquid burns as it slides down my throat, eating at my stomach lining like acid. I stick out my tongue to convey the alcohol’s nasty effect. When I cough, it makes everyone around me laugh.

Luka winces when he sees me cough, and he pops the cap on the bottle, screwing it closed. “Okay Helene. I think you’ve had enough.”

I blink back the tears in my eyes and gasp. “Are you kidding? The party’s just started!”

Luka’s face is written with concern, but his cousin Leo comes over to give him a reassuring slap on the back. “You heard the girl. The party’s just started! Pour her another one!”

Leo cranes his neck back to let out a celebratory howl, but Luka shoots him an ominous look that stops him cold.

“Not today.”

Then, Luka pulls me aside, separating me from Leo. I paw at his hand to make him let go. Suddenly, my entire body has become flustered and irritated. I hate how Luka’s fingers feel wrapped around my wrist. My clothes itch against my skin. I have the strangest desire to strip off all my clothes. And the floor wobbles underneath my feet.

“Helene,” Luka says as he steadies me upright. “You’re drunk.”

“Am not!” I shout over the music in protest.

Luka lets go of me. The lack of his support causes my inebriated body to lean to the side. I nearly fall into Nonna when Luka reaches out and grabs me. I can’t help but laugh while I’m suspended just a few inches above the floor. The entire room is upside down and people are walking on the ceiling. Is it the ceiling? Since when did the floor resemble the Sistine Chapel?

Luka pulls me back up and I stumble into his chest. I can hear his heartbeat through the thin fabric of his button-down. It sounds like an anxious drum set, and I press my ear closer to listen.

“Did you drink a lot of coffee this morning? Your heart’s beating reallllyyyy fast.”

Luka pulls me off him and lifts my face to look at me. His dark brown eyes study me with genuine concern. Had I been sober, I would have gotten lost in his gaze. Maybe I would have lost my speech as well, but I was extremely drunk. With each passing moment, I felt myself losing more and more control. I was free from every inhibition. I could fly from my lack of shame.

“Sit down.” Luka guides me to the nearest sofa and urges me to sit. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

I plop myself on the couch for a couple seconds before springing back up again. I’m so bored that it’s agonizing. I can tell that Luka is slowly losing his patience. His lips are tightly pressed and he stares at me intently. I’m eager to disobey.

“Let’s dance!”

I take his hand in mine and lead him to the middle of the living room. Luka and I sway side to side as the upbeat music transitions to a slow romantic song in the background. The singer’s voice shakes dramatically as the violins serenade along with him. At this point, I’m used to the whole room spinning and find myself totally submitting to the chaos within me. I wrap my arms around Luka’s neck and lean against his shoulder, sighing dreamily.

“This is nice.”

Luka holds me by my waist and moves in sync with the rhythm. I can feel his hesitation seep through me. It grows heavier and more concentrated as we dance. Even though I’m drunk, I’m still aware.

“Are you always this rowdy when you’re drunk?”

Luka spins me around and we fall back into place. I shrug before collapsing into him. “I don’t know. I usually don’t remember anything afterwards.”

“That’s not good.”

“I’m not good.”

“I didn’t say that.”

Although I can’t see his face, I can imagine how he must look if he were to look at me. Is he repulsed at the girl tripping all over his feet? Does he regret inviting over the girl who gets drunk at a family party? Have I ruined myself in his eyes?

“You’re perfect.”

Luka pulls me away from him and makes sure to hold me up so we’re face to face. “I’m not.” His expression twists as if I’d just accused him of a dreadful crime. I don’t care enough to apologize.

“Life seems to be going well for you.” I laugh bitterly and it convinces me that I may be jealous of the boy I’ve come to love. “You have success within the palm of your hands.”

“Success and perfection are not synonymous.”

“If that’s so, tell me your worst flaw,” I whisper in a dead serious tone.

Luka confesses instantly. “I’m afraid to disappoint people.”

“Really now?” There’s a darkness within me that awakens. It blossoms in full bloom like a mysterious flower in the dead of night. Luka sees the change in my demeanor and subconsciously distances himself from me. He’s taken aback at my cruelness, but it’s too late now. I can’t hide it. “Is Luka Russo not happy with the life his family made for him?”

Luka doesn’t answer. We stop dancing and he lets go of me. I muster up all my strength to hold myself up. People start staring, but I continue on. “You strike me as someone who will selflessly give themselves up towards a cause, the kind of person who saves people from moving trains. But at the very same time, there’s a darkness within you that makes us the same. I like it, to be honest. It makes me feel less shitty about myself.”

“I think you really need to rest.”

“Oh, no. I’m fine! But my heart isn’t.” Luka eyes me cautiously. He seems terrified like he’s seeing someone else in my place. If only he knew that the drunk girl talking was the real me. I’m giving him a taste of the real Helene Singh.

“I still love my ex. I’m not in love with her, but I love her.”

Luka holds his tongue for a moment while he thinks. His expression gradually changes from surprise, hurt, and at last, understanding. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Come with me, Hel. It’s about time you got some rest.”

Luka leads me up the stairs to his bedroom and I giggle all the way. My mouth takes on a life of its own and I ramble senselessly. I don’t expect Luka to keep up with me, but he does.

“She’s not a bad person. She just does bad things. Does that make sense? I think it does. Good people hurt good people all the time.”

“But how does she make you feel?”

“She tries her best to be nice to me. And then, things would be good for a while. But in the end, we always end up hurting each other.”

Eventually, we arrive at his room. I shut the door and lock it. Luka stares at me with a befuddled look as I do so.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” I immediately tug my sweater over my head. The sweater falls to the floor in a pile. “We’re fucking, aren’t we?” I unclasp my bra and it falls to the floor as well.

Luka’s eyes widen with terror and all his blood flows to his cheeks, brightening his complexion immensely. “No, no, no, no!” He scrambles to retrieve my clothes and put them back on, but I fight him off.

“Helene,” Luka says sternly as he hopelessly tries to shove my sweater back onto my head. I swipe him with my nails, and it takes all the self-discipline he has in his body to stay patient with me. “We’re not having sex.”

My sweater hangs around my neck, leaving the rest of me fully exposed. My hair is frizzy from our fight and my face feels unbearably hot. “What? Why?”

Luka crosses his arms against his chest. He seems strangely paternal with his smug stance and tells me, “I’ll tell you why once you put your sweater back on.”

I groan and commence shoving my arms through the sleeves of my sweater. When I’m done, I tug at the fabric and say, “I’m dressed.”

Luka shakes his head in disapprobation. “It’s backwards. Fix it.”

“Luka!” I whine.

“Fix it.”

I take my sweater off and turn it so that the tag scratches my neck. “Better?”

Luka’s eyes fall to the ground at my bra on the floor. “You forgot something.”

“LUKA!”

“My nonna comes in here to clean my room. What is she going to think when she sees your bra lying there on the floor?”

I roll my eyes and take off my sweater to put my bra back on. The damn bra has two clasps and I can’t figure out how to hook them both. “A little help here?”

Luka comes forth to fix my bra, and I finish dressing. To my massive disappointment, I’m fully clothed and unravaged. We end up staring at each other in awkward silence until Luka bursts out laughing.

“Why are you laughing?” My cheeks flare from crippling embarrassment. The alcohol is slowly wearing off and my sense of shame starts working again.

Luka’s laughter eventually dies down. He wipes a tear from his eye and looks at me with an endearing expression that lessens my embarrassment. “I’m laughing because you’re a handful. God, what am I going to do with you?”

I press my back against the door, sulking. “I mean...I thought you were going to fuck me but I thought wrong.”

“My family is home. It wouldn’t be a problem if it was just my father, my sister, and a couple others, but there’s a whole party going on at every level in the house.”

“I guess that makes sense.” I keep my gaze downward. Every part of me wants to have the conversation be over already. I’ve already humiliated myself in front of Luka’s entire family and lost my own dignity in the process, not to mention that I discovered zero evidence to tie the Russos to the wolf murders.

“Secondly,” Luka continues. “You’ve been through a lot, Helene. I really want us to take things slow.”

“Is this because I was raped?”

Luka’s expression contorts painfully before he acknowledges my correctness. Without meaning to, I scoff, which I immediately apologize for. “I’m not made of glass, okay? I’ll tell you what I’m not comfortable with. As long as you listen when I say ‘no’, I’m fine.”

“I–I just wanted to respect your boundaries. That’s all.”

This time, I’m the one folding my arms across my chest. “Are there any more reasons for your objection?”

“What you said earlier downstairs...about a darkness in me that makes us the same. It makes me feel like you still don’t trust me.” Luka’s voice breaks as he says it, and it makes me feel like the most wretched person in the world. “I don’t understand. I’ve been completely honest about you with everything and yet...you always seem cautious like you’re scared of me. What am I doing wrong?”

“Noth–” I stop myself halfway. I want to tell him that he’s done nothing wrong. I want to tell him that I’m the one to blame, but I can’t. My thoughts tear themselves apart from within me. I want to tell him the truth about who I am. I want to stop lying once and for all, but what am I going to say?

I’m Helene Singh. I’m a 800 year old werecat who’s lived long enough to witness genocide, slavery, and war. I have endured nine lifetimes’ worth of pain. I’ve been raped. I’ve had my heart ripped out of my chest and stomped on by people I loved. I’ve attended more funerals than I can count. And now, I accuse you and your family of committing the gravest transgression a wolf can make. Luka Russo, you and your family are guilty of manslaughter and turning humans.

My mouth hangs open in trepidation at how ridiculous the truth sounds. I’ve run out of lies. My tongue shrivels up inside me and I swallow a dry lump down my throat. Every possible thought of an escape runs through my mind. I search for the best course of action and decide to distract him with truths. They aren’t correct truths, but it doesn’t make them any less true.

“I have a really bad habit of loving people that will hurt me.”

I think of all the people who’ve broke me. Shirisha, Raphael, and a couple lovers along the way. They’re so many of them that I can’t remember them all. But I also remember that I’m not a victim. I’ve had my fair share of hurting others. I left Shirisha with third degree burns. I cost Raphael his position as alpha. I murdered my husband. I think I’ve abandoned a lot of people throughout my long life despite knowing the pain of being left behind all too well. I’m no better than the people that hurt me.

“I think coming here was a mistake. I’m just going to hurt you too. I’m sorry.”

I turn my back on him to unlock the door, but Luka pulls me back.

“Stay. Please, stay.” Luka pleads. His voice is strangled and hoarse. He throws himself on me, pressing me against the door. The heat of his body makes me sweat and his scent leaves me dazed and thoughtless.

Without thinking twice, we kiss. Our lips press feverishly against each other, and I moan softly with each take. His mouth tastes faintly of liquor and gelato; I can’t get enough.

My fingers wrap around the fabric of his button down, and I tug. A couple buttons pop off and fall to the floor, rolling at our feet. Luka playfully slaps my hand, admonishing me for ruining his favorite shirt, but it only succeeds in riling me even more.

We find our way to his bed and make out for what seems like hours. I straddle him to the bed, pinning his wrists over his head. We kiss until our lips go numb. Luka taps out first.

“I’m tired,” Luka says and carries me off him. I whine from disappointment and roll to the other side of the bed, pouting.

“Well I’m not. I guess I’ll get back out there and join the party.” I sit up and hop off the bed and run to the nearest mirror hanging on the wall. I try my best to fix my hair and smooth out my clothes so that I’m more presentable. “I just remembered that I never got to speak with your father.”

In the corner of the mirror, I see Luka lie down on his bed with his arms behind his head. His jaw drops to let out a huge yawn. I’m careful to hide my grin.

“Don’t worry about my father. He’s downstairs talking business with some guests.”

“Oh? Daddy’s working on his son’s birthday?” I stare into the mirror and observe my face. I watch closely to avoid betraying my interest away. “That’s not fair.”

“My father’s a workaholic. His work is his life.”

Luka sits up and rummages through a drawer in his nightstand and pulls out a plastic orange bottle of pills. I watch him in the mirror, slowly playing with my hair to distract him from my wandering eyes. Luka unscrews the cap and pops two pills into his hand. He swallows them dry.

“Luka...what kind of business does your father run?

I close my eyes to hear the exact moment Luka puts away the bottle back into the drawer. There’s no rattling of pills which could only mean that Luka had taken the very last of it. Luka pushes the drawer closed and looks up at me. “He markets pharmaceutical drugs. Why did you ask?”

I turn back around and plaster on a sweet smile that makes Luka do the same. “His job seems really important to him. I just wanted to know.”

“Is there anything else you’re curious about?” Luka comes over to me so that we’re both standing in front of the mirror. He wraps his arms around my waist and plants an airy kiss on my cheek. It’s one thing to feel a kiss. But to see it reflected in a mirror? I can’t help but swoon.

“Your sister, Daphne.”

At the mention of her name, we both sober up from our romantic delirium.

“What about her?” Luka’s voice tenses for a bit but remains mostly unsuspicious.

“What happened to her?”

Luka sighs and runs his hand through his hair. After a long suspenseful pause, Luka collects enough words to tell the story. “Normally, I would never tell anyone what happened, but I trust that you’ll keep this a secret.” My guts twist themselves into knots as I wait for him to reveal the tale. “A few months ago, I found out that Daphne was having an affair with one of my father’s employees at the pharmaceutical plant. I knew that their relationship was wrong. Daphne’s just a girl and the employee was a married forty-year-old man, so I told her she needed to end things before our father found out.”

Without realizing it, I murmur, “But Daphne didn’t want to end it.”

Luka turns to me with a spookish look, and I quickly correct myself. “Daphne...she seems like the kind of girl that falls in love easily.”

Luka nods. “And fiercely. I tried to reason with her but my father found out because the employee was smuggling drugs from the plant and selling them as a middle man.”

“And then what happened to him?”

“We fired him.” Luka says this without any trace of emotion. My blood turns cold as I detect the lie. I picture Luis where I first met him in Central Park at the dead of night. His throat was ripped to shreds, struggling to survive. “And we took him to court for statuary rape. Now he’s in prison serving a twenty year sentence and waiting for probation.”

“And how’s––” My throat closes up on me, and I fight to breathe. “How’s Daphne holding up?”

Luka strolls towards the bathroom and continues to talk to me as the faucet runs. He splashes his face with water, and I can feel my heart racing within me as he does so. “She was upset for a while, but she’s finally starting to turn around. Tonight was the first time I’ve seen her so happy. She really likes you.”

While Luka is in the bathroom, my gaze hovers over to the nightstand next to the bed. I see that Luka is brushing his teeth, so I carefully tread towards the bed. I keep my gaze on Luka and the mirror in his bathroom, careful to avoid detection as I gently open the drawer and snatch his empty pill bottle. The medicine is branded in bold blue print.

Aeternum

When Luka lowers his head to spit in the sink, I push the bottle into the pocket of my jeans and nudge the drawer closed. Luka finishes his nightly routine and returns to the bedroom with a ziplock bag of travel sized hygienic products.

“What’s that?” I look closer and identify a toothbrush, a compact of floss, and a tiny bottle of mouthwash.

“This?” Luka hands me the bag and says, “This is for you if you’re planning to stay the night.”

“Hm...I never had a sleepover. What are we going to do? Play truth or dare? Give each other manicures? Tell each other our deepest and darkest secrets?” With each tease, I inch closer and closer to Luka’s neck. Luka swats me away like an annoying fly and ushers me towards his door.

“You are going to do all that stuff with Daphne because that’s where you’re going to be sleeping.”

“Aw...I like your bed.”

“Daphne’s bed is much nicer than mine. Now run along. Her room’s right across from mine.”

My gaze panders over to Luka’s closet. If I concentrate enough, I can hear Todd snoring blissfully away. I can also smell an array of food from where he’s hiding.

“I miss my cat.”

Luka rolls his eyes; it’s the first time he’s ever done that in front of me. “Your cat’s going to be fine. Now go.”

I open the door and Luka gives me one final kiss on my forehead before we part. “Goodnight, Helene.”

“Goodnight, Luka.”

The moment the door closes, I release a long sigh of relief. I instantly feel lighter. My heart pumps wearily against my chest as I lean my back against the door. A part of me is proud of myself for keeping up my act while the other part of me caves in to a hysterical spiral.

“What am I going to do?” I whisper to myself.

My head is swelling from burdensome discoveries. I’m in love. I’m in love with a potential murderer. And to make things worse? Luka had lied right to my face about what happened to Luis. What else did he lie about?

I take out the empty pill bottle from my pocket and study it. I realize that there’s multiple layers to its sticker, and I quickly put the bottle away. There’s no time to look into it as of now. I have to move onto my next suspect.

Clutching my ziplock bag to my chest, I head towards Daphne Russo’s bedroom.

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