Chapter 1: Arriving in New York

1701 Words
Sasha spent the plane journey from Moscow feeling nervous and fidgety. He should’ve had a drink to calm his nerves, but he hadn’t eaten anything all day (too nervous) and he didn’t want to arrive in America, nor meet his fiancé a bit drunk. So, no drinking. Just quiet, internal panic as the plane finally touched down on American soil. Sasha followed the other passengers off the plane and was herded toward the luggage collection. He hadn’t brought much, just a small case with a few clothes and essentials. His fiancé, Elliot, had assured Sasha that he’d have everything he needed, or would buy him new things. Elliot was very wealthy. He’d paid for Sasha’s flight, too. Sasha was meeting him face to face for the very first time today. They’d met online and had Skyped and messaged consistently for nearly five months now. Sasha was excited, not only to meet Elliot finally, but also to be back in New York. When he got his suitcase, he followed the signs to arrivals. Sasha knew English, so at least that helped. He went through immigration and customs, showed them his passport and paperwork. They made him wait while they searched his bag. Sasha didn’t have anything illegal in there, but he sweated over it as he watched and waited. Customs looked through his clothes, his toiletries. They looked at him suspiciously, making Sasha duck his head to avoid eye contact. By the time they’d finished and gave him back his case (with all his clothes folded badly and squashed back in, he noted), Sasha was a nervous wreck all over again. He found a men’s room and ducked inside for a moment to compose himself. His hair was still okay, at least. Sasha had washed it yesterday, and it was tied back for now. But his face was flushed and he was sweating a lot. Sasha took off his jacket and decided to do a quick change of shirts while he could. It would be awful to meet his fiancé all sweaty and horrible. Sasha changed into a fresh shirt, buttoned up, and washed his hands. He also patted his face dry with some paper towel, and tried to get his breathing under control. He met his own eyes in the mirror, and gave himself a pep talk. You can do this, he thought. Sasha breathed in deep, and collected his things together. He didn’t put his jacket back on, he was warm enough, so he folded it over his arm and wheeled his case beside him with his spare hand. The arrivals hall was busy, and Sasha followed the other passengers all filtering down the hallway. It was loud, with lots of people in all different languages shouting and waving, greeting each other excitedly. Sasha smiled fondly as he passed by a family hugging and exchanging greetings in Spanish. People waiting for arrivals stood behind simple rope barriers, some holding up cards with names on. Sasha scanned the people waiting as he walked by, desperately looking for Elliot. He wasn’t there. Sasha got his phone out quickly to check if Elliot had replied, but there was no message yet. Maybe he was running late. Sasha would have to find a coffee place or some seats and wait, he supposed. He kept walking, then his eyes spotted a card with his name written on it: Aleksandr Dudayev. Sasha stopped and looked at the man holding the card. He was dressed in a simple but casual suit, and Sasha didn’t recognize him. Was there another Dudayev on the flight? Sasha wasn’t sure what to do. Also, he was in the way of the other passengers bustling past. Sasha edged to the side, and just then his phone lit up with a message. It was Elliot, saying he’d been held up at work but had sent a driver to pick Sasha up. Oh. Disappointment kicked Sasha in the gut. He’d fantasized about meeting his fiancé at the airport for a long time now. But he knew Elliot was a busy and important man. He ran a multi-million-dollar company, he was sure to be busy. Sasha swallowed past his nerves and disappointment, and headed over to the stranger with the card bearing his name. When they got to the car, Sasha sat in the back on his own, and sent a message to Elliot, asking when he’d be free. Elliot replied that he’d come straight from work and they’d have dinner at home together. Sasha smiled, relieved. He sat back and looked out the window as they left the airport, and the tall buildings of the New York skyline came into view. He’d really missed this city. Sasha had come over with his mom when he was barely a year old, and she’d met an American man to marry. He’d spent his childhood in New York, going to school with American children. But his mother’s marriage hadn’t worked out, and they’d separated when Sasha was thirteen. He’d had to go back to Moscow with his mom, where she eventually remarried and had another baby with her new husband. But Sasha missed New York. Now, here he was again. Sasha hoped he could stay for good this time. * * * * Sasha was dropped off at a stunning brownstone house on the upper west side. He’d known Elliot was wealthy in theory, but it was quite another thing seeing that wealth up close. Sasha entered the building, looking around in awe at how beautiful it was. Like a very fancy hotel rather than an apartment block. There was even a front desk with a clerk in uniform. Sasha collected an envelope with his name on it. Inside, a key for the apartment, and a card saying which apartment to go to. It felt like a treasure hunt, in a way. Sasha took the elevator, smiling happily at other people as he passed. If these were his neighbors, they were all very well dressed in beautiful designer clothes. Sasha would hang up his own clothes to get the creases out as soon as he got indoors. He found the apartment on the tenth floor, and unlocked the door. Sasha’s mouth fell open as he stepped inside. “Boyze moi,” he murmured in awe. It was beautiful, like a setting for a fashion shoot: a tastefully decorated apartment, clearly expensive but not overstated. Sasha swallowed nervously as he shut the door behind him, and wondered how he’d ever relax in such a place. He’d never been in such expensive surroundings in all his life. First things first: he wanted to unpack, hang up his clothes, and wash. If Elliot would be home soon, then he wanted to give him the absolute best impression. Sasha cleaned himself up, got into fresh clothes and brushed his long hair out. He unpacked the gifts he’d brought from Moscow for Elliot: the little handmade Russian dolls from the market, some small bottles of different vodkas to try. All things that Elliot had requested, plus a few surprise gifts too. Sasha sent messages to his family back home, telling them that he’d arrived safely. He had nothing else left to do except wait for Elliot, and as he was so nervous about it, Sasha opened one of the vodka bottles and poured himself a drink. He kept checking the time, hoping Elliot would be here soon. Sasha waited, wondering if Elliot was held up or if this was normal. It was after seven P.M. when Sasha heard the apartment door open. He was exhausted from his flight and hungry, but he was thrilled to finally meet his fiancé. Sasha got up from the couch with a big grin on his face, and stood there waiting for Elliot to come in from the hallway. They’d Skyped plenty of times, so Sasha knew what Elliot looked like. Still, it wasn’t quite the same as seeing somebody in person. The man who strode into the lounge wearing a business suit and tossing a briefcase aside was a heavier build than Sasha had expected; his eyes dropped briefly to Elliot’s waistline. Sasha didn’t mind that, of course not. He only wanted someone kind to love him and he could love back. Elliot grinned at him as he approached. “Sasha,” he said, drawing Sasha into a full hug and squeezing him tight. “Wow, you look even better in the flesh!” Elliot drew back to smile at him, at the same time his hand reached down and patted Sasha on his ass. Sasha was a little surprised at that, but Elliot released him from the embrace and went straight over to the couch. “I’m starving,” he groaned, flopping down and putting his feet up. “I’ll order in. You like spicy food, right?” Sasha stood still for a moment, unsure what he should do. Go join Elliot on the couch, or pour him a drink? “Um, sure,” Sasha said. “Whatever you want.” “Good boy. That’s what I like to hear,” Elliot said with a chortle. Sasha wasn’t sure how to respond to that, though he thought that the situation would probably be greatly improved with vodka, so he got two glasses and poured out measures of vodka. “For you,” he said, coming around the couch to offer Elliot his glass. “Oh, awesome.” Elliot smiled at him and took the glass. “Just what I need after today.” Sasha smiled back, and sat on the edge of the couch. He raised his glass, about to offer a toast in Russian, as was the custom, but Elliot started drinking his before Sasha had a chance. Again, he was taken aback. But customs were different here, Sasha reminded himself. Maybe toasts weren’t important. He watched his fiancé tapping away on his phone for a long moment, unsure what to do next. This wasn’t exactly the first meeting he’d had in his mind, but Elliot had been at work all day. Sasha decided to make his toast anyway, just for himself. Here’s to us, he thought, tipping his glass up for a drink.
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