Fist to the Heart Ch. 09

"Okay," Ruslan murmured. "I can play chaperone. Wait, is this guy one of the strapping young men who happen to be gay, that you were talking about?"

"Indeed," Douglas confirmed. "He is very discreet, as is his family, as you might well imagine, but here, we are far away from any gossipy newspapers and the like. So he might appreciate being able to spread his wings for a bit. I'm counting on you to be an accommodating host."

"I suppose I can do that. But otherwise, I won't promise anything else," Ruslan said with conviction.

"And I wouldn't have it any other way. Although I have a feeling you two are going to hit it well. Call it a parent's intuition."

Ruslan glared a little. "I'm not going to cheat on Johnny."

"Cheat? I thought you guys weren't attached," Douglas joked. "So you keep telling me."

"All right, I will babysit this guy," Ruslan said with a sigh, avoiding to give a direct answer to the unspoken question. "But that doesn't change anything between Johnny and me."

"Fine by me. Young hearts are fickle. I am counting on that. Just make sure that Johnny doesn't become a complication you don't want. Of course, if that happens, I hope you will tell me so that I can take care of things."

"Why are you so bent against me being with Johnny?" Ruslan questioned.

"Besides the obvious?" Douglas quirked an eyebrow. "He is not the right man for you."

"Because he doesn't have any money? I wouldn't have any if you didn't take me in. So we're practically the same."

"He is trouble."

"Seriously, papa, it's like sometimes you and Yanis think the same," he said right away. "I don't need that much protection. I know men. If it's anything I know in this world," he added.

"Yanis." Douglas looked at him with reproach. "I know he's your friend, but, just like Johnny, he's not good for you."

"You don't like the guy I'm with, you don't like my best friend ... What's next? Are you going to ground me?" Ruslan pouted.

Douglas shook his head with mirth. "If I only could. I care about you. But Yanis is in with some rough crowd."

"He's not going to hurt me if that's what you think," Ruslan said.

"People can hurt you without any intention to do that," Douglas says wistfully. "Sometimes, they are not even the ones who do the hurting. It is just something that comes with the territory, I guess."

Ruslan studied the old man's face in silence for a while. There was pain there. He could tell. But he knew that if he asked, he wouldn't receive an answer.

"Who hurt you? Who was it, papa? And what do you mean by 'that comes with the territory'?"

"Ah, that means that it comes with caring for someone," Douglas replied, and his eyes seemed to look somewhere far away.

"Who was this someone? Was it your son? Did you ever have one? What happened to him?" Ruslan insisted.

Douglas's eyes focused again. "No, I do not have a son, nor did I have. You're the only one, Russy."

Ruslan let his eyes down again. Somehow, like always, the old man wasn't telling him everything. Or anything at all.

***

Nigel Davenport. The guy's name was a mouthful, Ruslan thought dryly, but he offered his hand and his best smile. It might have been that his papa was insisting so much with this guy, that he took an instant dislike at him.

The man was in his late twenties and had a strong jawline, and straight white teeth that he liked showing in what Ruslan considered an insincere smile. He had the healthy complexion of someone raised up north, and the November chill was coloring the height of his cheeks. From his height, he towered over Ruslan, and the hand that took his to shake it was square and rough.

Maybe he had grown up on some farm, Ruslan continued his evaluation. Maybe something of his slight distaste in the man was showing on his face because the guy's nostrils flared.

"You're much more beautiful than people say," Nigel said bluntly, and his smile stretched even more.

Ah, those flaring nostrils were a sign of something else. Ruslan smiled politely. "I am glad to make your acquaintance, Nigel," he said, trying hard not to sound like a flirt.

Because of his papa, now he had to police every word that was coming out of his mouth.

"I see you travel light," he pointed at Nigel's carry-all.

Nigel shrugged. "I am not exactly a fashionable man. A few changes of clothes are enough for me."

"So you're not staying long?" Ruslan said as he looked over to the driver and made a gesture for him to get Nigel's luggage.

"I wasn't planning," Nigel replied, with the same large, a bit dumb, but somewhat cute for a guy his size, smile. "But I might change my mind. Or, better said, you might."

Ruslan wanted to roll his eyes, but he had promised the old man that he wouldn't be rude.

"There are not many places to see here, except for casinos, of course. Papa tells me you are interested in some partnership. I can assure you that we offer the best entertainment in the valley. And that I won't show you the competition."

Nigel laughed, and Ruslan was starting to wonder what the hell the old man must have been thinking when telling him he would hit it off with this dude. Nigel wasn't laughing. He was neighing like a horse. Could it be that he was also hung like one? Was that why his papa thought he would like Nigel? At least, internally, he rolled his eyes.

They climbed in the back of the limousine since his papa had told him to receive the guest properly.

"May I offer you something?" he gestured toward the mini bar.

He felt like he was in the mood for one if he was to survive this encounter. But his guest shook his head, and it wouldn't have been polite to drink on his own.

"Do you not drink as a general rule?" Ruslan asked.

"How could you tell?" Nigel grinned at him and stretched one arm to rest it behind Ruslan.

This guy thought he was at the movies and had to find a way to grab his date by the shoulders.

"Just a lucky guess," Ruslan said brightly.

"Alcohol fogs your mind and steals years of your life." Nigel nodded with self-importance. "I never drink."

"That's very intelligent of you," Ruslan said politely.

Nigel's hand moved on his shoulder. Pretending he needed to lean forward to push away some lint from the hem of his pants, Ruslan shook off the touch discreetly. He eased back into the seat, but Nigel's hand returned on his shoulder. Ruslan turned to face him, to gauge what all that meant. By the content grin Nigel had plastered all over his face, he was satisfied with his game plan. Maybe he even thought it was working.

"So, what are your plans?" he asked, looking Nigel squarely in the eyes.

"Hmm, probably to do this." Nigel didn't hesitate and leaned in to kiss him.

Ruslan barely managed to avoid a direct kiss on the lips, and Nigel just caught his cheek. "Nigel," he said, trying to sound stern enough. "That's not very nice of you."

Eventually, Nigel got the hint, and his hand dropped from Ruslan's shoulder.

"Sorry," he said, and giggled like a school kid caught doing something naughty. "It's just that everyone talked about how pretty you were, and I just thought they were exaggerating. But now that I see you in person, I can only be a little upset over not coming to make your acquaintance a little sooner."

All right, Nigel had his charm, Ruslan had to admit. He was maybe clumsy and impatient, but he wasn't a bad guy.

Which didn't work in his favor, Ruslan thought. He had a thing, a strong thing, for a bad boy, with eyes dark like sin, and with lips so rough that were making him go crazy, and even rougher hands that could pull him apart, but didn't. No, Johnny's hands were gentle with all the callouses and hardened skin, and small cuts and fading bruises. He barely stopped a shiver.

"Are you all right?" Nigel asked him, taking him again by the shoulder and pulling him close. "You seem a little cold."

"I am all right," he replied and straightened himself up in his place, to minimize the contact between them.

He needed to focus for a bit, and entertain the guest. For sure, the type of entertainment he had in mind was different than the one Nigel was most probably thinking about if he were to take after that broad grin stretching over horse like teeth.

***

Johnny had been training hard for days now. Yet, there was still a while until Saturday. Never before had he had the feeling that days were crawling like snails. And now, he was thinking about nothing else but for Saturday to come already so that he could score another win, and then spend the rest of his time until Monday fucking Ruslan into the mattress.

He sent the speed bag almost off its hinges. The time passed just the same, no matter how fast he was.

So the old man was trying to make him understand that Ruslan was not for someone like him. And maybe it was the truth. But he wouldn't give up. If anything, he could feel his blood boil more when thinking of the pretty man.

Fucking beautiful eyes. Bedroom eyes, some people might say. Yeah, that was totally how Ruslan's eyes were. They were inviting him to jump in the bed with him and fuck until exhaustion.

Johnny still needed to keep his head sharp. Without beating his opponent, there was no Ruslan and no fucking for him.

But that didn't mean that it was easy to take his mind off him.

He headed back home after training. As much as he could call that home. The room at the old gym felt dingy and crappy. Nothing like the luxury surrounding Ruslan. Some might have said that Ruslan was some golden ticket for someone like Johnny. But all that money didn't matter. If Ruslan were to appear right there, in that crappy room, he could light it up and make it feel like a frigging palace.

Johnny took out his phone. He had promised himself to be good and keep a straight head. He had told Ruslan they might just fuck in the middle of the week if he wanted. But now, he had a sudden fear that he would jinx it if he changed their routine. Also, he wanted to know that it was earned, what was happening between them.

Fighters like him were all about routine. You honed each punch, each kick, each feint, each move to perfection. By repeating and repeating the same routine until it became second nature.

But that didn't mean he couldn't call. "Hey," he said.

Johnny hoped his smile was not easy to guess through the phone because he was grinning so hard right now that his cheeks were hurting.

"Hey," Ruslan replied, and he seemed a bit surprised.

"How's it hanging?" he asked.

"Like usual," came the somewhat curt reply.

Hmm, something was off. He could tell. "What's up?" he asked, the grin now quickly wiping off his face.

The old man was up. Damn! Had he read Ruslan wrong? Was he the only one who thought something was going on between them?

"I'd love to chat, but now is not a good time," Ruslan replied.

Johnny ground his teeth. There was apparently a masculine voice he heard somewhere in the background. Maybe it was even Ruslan's dad, but Johnny wouldn't fool himself.

Ruslan was somewhere, with some dude. And he couldn't talk to Johnny. Just what kind of stupid was he now?

"Okay," he said gruffly.

He wouldn't ask if they saw each other on Saturday. Johnny Bryne wasn't some mangy dog waiting for a bone.

"Was it something urgent?" Ruslan asked, and now he seemed a bit concerned.

"No."

He just wanted to hear Ruslan's voice. Maybe fool around over the phone. But now he was just getting the cold shower he needed to get his head back in the game.

"Well, then, goodbye," Ruslan said, after two seconds of silence.

"Bye," he said quickly.

He almost wanted to throw the phone and have the satisfaction to see it smashing against the wall. But he knew better than that.

What the fuck? Was he jealous now? Ruslan had told him they were exclusive, but he was some rich guy who had never had to worry about anything in his life. So maybe a promise to some guy who wasn't living in the lap of luxury like he was meant squat.

On Saturday, Johnny would go into that ring and wreck the unlucky fucker who faced him. And then he would see if Ruslan were a man of honor or it was enough for his papa to pull the leash and he was obedient like a stupid well-bred mutt.

Wiping his face with both hands, he suddenly felt like laughing at himself. Surviving this day. Surviving this week. It was all that mattered.

But he would find out if Ruslan tried to play him like a shmuck. He was not that kind of fool.

***

"Who was it? You seemed very serious right there," Nigel said while picking a bruschetta from the plate and stuffing his mouth with it.

"Ah, a business contact," Ruslan lied right away.

Why on earth had he behaved like that? Like he had something to hide. Somehow, he felt guilty of spending time with Nigel, without Johnny's knowing. It was ridiculous. He wasn't cheating on anyone. But he could tell Johnny was pissed now.

Which, again, made little sense. He had been happy to hear Johnny's voice. Should have he been alone, he would have loved to talk to him, most preferably for hours.

Maybe it was because Nigel was openly flirting with him. Ruslan wasn't offering the desired response, but that didn't seem to put him off at all. He was trying to tell himself he was doing nothing but being polite to his guest, but there he was, having fun in a fancy restaurant with this guy, while Johnny wasn't present.

He wanted to slap himself silly. What was with all these fucked up thoughts, all of a sudden? They weren't that serious about one another, now were they? There was no point to feel guilty. He was just absurd about the whole thing, for some obscure reason.

"How do you find the food?" he asked his guest.

Nigel nodded hurriedly. He had quite the appetite, Ruslan thought, while he stared at his plate. He wasn't that much in the mood to eat.

***

It was only late at night that he could call Johnny. It had taken him hours of entertaining the guest without offering anything that wasn't on the menu, and he had finally managed to put Nigel to sleep, in his own hotel room. The old man was going to be pleased. Nigel had seemed happy with being shown around. Probably the business his papa wanted to strike with the guy's family was going to work out.

He took out his coat and threw it on the back of a chair. Pulling his phone out, he went to look out the window, at the evening setting in. Days were shorter, colder now, but that only meant staying indoors felt cozier than ever.

"Hey," he said softly, after waiting for Johnny to pick up for what felt like minutes.

Something like a grunt was the only response.

"Sorry about earlier. I was caught in a business meeting, and I couldn't talk."

It was, after all, the truth, despite what a little righteous voice was trying to tell him. In a way, he felt entitled to revolt against himself. No matter how much innuendo - not so veiled, to be honest - Nigel had thrown his way, he had politely dodged any invitation to get busy with him.

Something like a mumble followed now from the other end.

Ruslan frowned. "Am I calling at a bad time?"

"No. I don't have bad times," Johnny finally said.

"You don't have bad times." Ruslan tried to make sense of Johnny's words, by repeating them. "I would have loved to spend some time talking to you. It wasn't possible."

"Sure. No problem. You don't have to say sorry," Johnny replied.

Ruslan exhaled. "Okay. Now, tell me, have you perhaps changed your mind? You know, about our deal?"

He didn't want to be led by the nose. That would have been ludicrous. Somehow now he felt pissed at Johnny. If he didn't want to have anything to do with him anymore, better say it now.

"No. So how was the business meeting?" Johnny seemed keen to change the subject, but his voice remained cold.

"Why are you so ... I don't know," Ruslan huffed.

Could it be that Johnny was with someone? So he kept being formal like that, for the sake of the other person. That could be possible. A man like that, as he had noticed from the first time he had laid his eyes on him, must have had plenty of people wanting to bed him.

"So? You mean like you were earlier?" Johnny spat.

Oh, so he was pissed. Ruslan had guessed right the first time. "Are you alone?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm alone," Johnny replied. "Unlike you earlier."

"Wait, are you jealous?" Ruslan expressed his astonishment at that idea.

"Nah, why would I be? We have a deal, that's all," Johnny said.

"You better not forget about it. It goes both ways, you know?" Ruslan said, somewhat miffed now, as well.

"Wait, are you thinking I'm fucking someone behind your back?" Johnny's voice now sounded incredulous.

Ruslan opened his mouth to say something and then closed it tight.

"It looks like you're the jealous one," Johnny's voice was warming up now.

"I'm not jealous," Ruslan protested. "What are you talking about?"

"You are," Johnny said with satisfaction. "So, do you miss me or something?"

Johnny was now drawling the words with self-assurance. That was getting a bit on Ruslan's nerves. But somehow, the fact that he could hear how relieved Johnny was now was making him smile a little, too.

"Yeah, I do miss you," Ruslan said, but his voice still showed his irritation.

Johnny chuckled. "Good."

Ruslan pursed his lips. "Good? Is that everything you have to say?"

Snake was really something.

"Yeah, it's good, pretty, because I miss you, too," Johnny's voice dropped to a whisper.

Ruslan could pretend all he wanted that his cheeks weren't getting warm that very moment. He was, after all, alone, and no one could see him, getting all mushy and vulnerable over some guy. Not just some guy. A guy who seemed to be special to him.

"Cat got your tongue?" Johnny teased since Ruslan wasn't saying anything.

Or breathing too much.

"No," he replied curtly. "Ah, damn, you really know how to piss off a guy," Ruslan mumbled, to hide his excitement and the smidge of embarrassment he was feeling that moment.

Johnny laughed. "I know many things. Now tell me, how much do you miss me?"

"Only a little," Ruslan teased, too.

"Are you sure? Because I miss you a lot. I can barely wait to see you again," Johnny said gently.

Ruslan grabbed the phone tightly. He felt like a damn school kid talking for the first time with his crush. What the hell was wrong with him? He had already had the man.

But, apparently, it hadn't been enough. "I wish Saturday were here already," he whispered.

"Yeah, me, too," Johnny whispered, too.

The conversation felt so intimate between the two of them, despite few words being spoken. For a while, they only listened to each other's breathing.

"I guess I should let you train," Ruslan said.

"I guess I should, yeah. Although now it's time I go to sleep," Johnny replied.

"I was talking about the following days, not right now," Ruslan said. "The days until Saturday."

Johnny chuckled. "Only Friday left, actually."

"And the whole Saturday until evening," Ruslan added.

"Yeah, a whole bunch of hours," Johnny said, with what Ruslan could only interpret as regret.

"Yeah," he replied because somehow he could not feel words coming easily to him now.

The silence of the evening was stretching all around him. For the first time in a very long time, he could tell he was all alone in that big house. The old man was right. Only that he wasn't usually thinking about it. Now, talking to Johnny over a phone, and wishing the man was with him that very moment, he could feel how lonely his big, beautiful house was.

"Well, as they say, time flies." Ruslan shook away the sudden melancholia. "I can barely wait to see you win again."

"Ah, so you're sure that I'll win," Johnny joked, and Ruslan smiled.

"Don't you dare not to come home with me a winner," Ruslan warned, but he was laughing now.