Golden Nightingale

~2~

“That is so unrealistic…”

“Right?! Alek do you do that?”

“What? Gouge a man’s eye out? That’s gross…too boring to do cleanly. Ask Vladmir.”

“Hard, f*****g, pass.”

In the time span of the hour premiere of the show, Alek had text to get more food, neither he nor Dmitry heard from Akim or Petya again, presumed to have snuck off together during a moment of the brothers not paying attention, taking the chance to take their leave for the night. At least they tried to. The crash into the dining table, stilled motions, Alek only waved behind him to be dismissed and carry on, both scrambled out with a slam of the door. He rolled his eyes. And he was told he was the horn dog all the time.

Now he sat there with Dmitry, the show’s premise was ridiculous; the head guy, his name was Charlie which meant fierce and kingly as a lion, which was a total cliché as Alek popped a spicy dumpling after being delivered the food, the items laid out between the coffee table and Dmitry’s dining table during a commercial break, he snorted at how outlandishly the character behaved.

What kind of guy would run into an alleyway when being chased around? That was idiotic, there was no viable escape and left for his back literally against a wall. Which was stupid since the man had taken an eye out of a traitor for spilling secrets and spying, tossed to the Italian he met with, and Alek rolled his eyes.

“It just doesn’t make sense. Charlie went from ripping eyes out to running around like a chicken with its head cut off into an alleyway. What is he going to do? Jump up and catapult over the fencing?”

“Well maybe the other main is going to show up and protect him?”

“Even if he does, why would that be believable? No one helps for nothing. Everyone always wants something. You’ll see…Charlie will get shot, left in an alley to die and THEN the guy is going to come and help him.”

Dmitry shifted on the couch to poke at Alek’s temple, enjoyed that his brother was tranquil enough to make fun of the show and as much as he wanted to yell at him to shut up, he wouldn’t trade this moment for anything. The stress-free features where all Dmitry could offer to the younger who took on the burdens of their family on his behalf. He licked his lips, tucked a stray hair behind an ear as Alek scooped and chewed on another dumpling.

“Why are you killing the guy off? I told you he’s the main guy!”

“And I’m telling you the probability of survival is significantly low if he put himself in the situation. Unbelievable.”

Both looked to see that the show returned, a couple of shots rang out on the television, loudly that neither flinched to, gazes calm, they watched the crumple of a body against a dumpster, the crowding of the bad guys around the mob boss, and a gun pointed to the camera.

“Ah s**t maybe they’re going to kill him in episode one. Way to SPOIL IT ALEK!”

“I TOLD YOU!”

And suddenly the sounds of a patrol car blared, screeching in sound that it made Alek lower the volume of the television calmly as he wrinkled his nose and got up to go and get himself some juice from the buffet on the other table.

“You’re going to miss it!”

“I’m getting juice, just pause it!”

“ALEK IT’S STREAMING LIVE I CAN’T!”

“f**k!”

Alek hurriedly poured himself a glass of watermelon juiced, enticed by Dmitry’s cravings before he moved to settle back into his seat expertly, lean forward onto his elbows as they watched the main lead, Charlie the mob head, bled out against the dumpster as the camera panned onto him. His expressions, his dark eyes just stared up to the sky as it ‘rained’. It always rained in dramatic moments like that, Alek unconsciously curled a hand into his thigh. As much as this was pretend and a show, some of it was painfully relatable to him, to his life. He could easily end up shot, bleeding to death by a dumpster under the rainy night sky, and he just remained silent as his heart pounded in his ears.

As much as he wanted to look away, he couldn’t. Alek could see the outline of himself, a mirrored image, his own hand covered with his own blood, similar to the life he had taken of the traitor a moment ago and he swallowed down the inkling of pain that churned in his heart. What would it be like to die like that? Lose everything and everyone he held dear.

He knew exactly why he pushed everyone away. The fear of having only to lose it. If he restrained, restricted, and limited himself, then Alek would never have to deal with the impeccable agony of it slipping through his fingers. His mother died, left them and his father behind, and as steel like the elder man was, he was not incapable of mourning. His father mourned his mother’s death for two years afterwards, and even now, little things reminded him of her. Bit by bit. Alek didn’t want to put all his eggs in that basket should he have to suffer a similar fate – and leave behind all the purity that he allowed to brighten his shadowed heart.

Thoughts swirled, emotions that were always well encompassed in a glass chrysalis, Alek shook his head to clear them and return to watch as someone came to the screen. A rush of Converse clad feet, the drop of an umbrella, this stranger ran to this man’s side, slid to his knees, and panicked.

Him and Dmitry shifted closer, breaths held as a pair of golden hands went to rip a shirt in a makeshift tourniquet, disregard the sound of the police to assist the fallen man out of the line of fire so to speak, dragged him into a nearby café where they had gone out to throw out the trash. Both men hidden away from the noise, the rainfall, and only looked into one another’s eyes. Alek instantly lost focus on the mob head and his own depressed pity party as the camera shifted over to this new contender – the other lead.

Words were formed, a pair of honey eyes stared concerned as appropriate and every little flicker of emotion could be felt by him, as the audience, and he was marveled. The way this man went from angry, worried, frustrated at the lack of communication from the fallen fellow on his floor, and apathetic means as he clinically did his best to tend to Charlie. Could someone look so beautiful and be able to play any part so emphatically? Without hesitance, without a chip on the wall, it was alluring and captivating. Alek watched as this creature flitted around the café to get him sorted, not even question the appearance of a shot-out man, Charlie’s eyes about to close presumably form adrenaline leaving him and before the fade out, a name. Travis.

The credits rolled onto the screen and Alek only sat back after a good minute of absorption.

“Wow…you called it or what, Alek. You should write things! I don’t know if I’ll continue.”

“When does this air?”

“Every week at this time. For two months its scheduled.”

“I’m going to pencil it in,” Alek pulled out his cellphone that had been silenced, ignored the plethora of emails, missed calls, and text messages to note down the show name, Dmitry’s name, and slotted at least two hours to not be disturbed or consequences would be severe. An update to his calendar meant all of the staff would have it and be notified of the stipulation.

“Did you like it that much? You and I were ripping it apart, Alek.”

“Not the show. Him,” He saw the cast pictures fly by on the screen, pointing to the character of ‘Travis’ played by Oliver Westcott fly by before it disappeared to others that had not appeared yet.

“An…actor?”

“That’s exactly who I need.”

“For what?”

“I want to see if my hunch is correct first.”

“Hunch?” Dmitry could see his brother’s mind whirling, working overtime before he blinked owlishly to Alek’s expression of manic delight. “Alek…”

“To get Papa off my back. What better way to trick someone than with an actor who thrives off of playing pretend?” Alek sat back with a tantalized expression brimmed with curiosity, confidence, and a grin that could come off as crazed in appearance and he knew Dmitry was worried.