1 Chapter 1

1

The music is so loud the walls are vibrating, and Arkady is surprised no one has called the cops yet. He can’t afford to be arrested again. It’s unlikely he’d be able to keep avoiding charges, and his boss will kill him if he’s late for tomorrow’s photo shoot. Making his way into the kitchen, he grabs a beer from one of the ice buckets and cracks it open. A drunken party girl he’d been introduced to earlier, but whose name he can’t remember, comes prancing over to him

“Dance with me!” the girl demands, and Arkady notices she has a daisy drawn on her cheek in face paint. And it clicks, her name is Daisy.

“I don’t dance,” Arkady tells her.

“Liar, Kris told me you’re a dancer.” Daisy pouts.

“I’m not that kind of dancer.” Arkady sips his beer. People don’t get that just because he’s a ballerino, and he loves it, doesn’t mean he’s good at, or likes, other kinds of dancing.

“I can show you how, if you want? I’m a good dancer,” Daisy says, shimmying her hips. She’s cute as hell, but unfortunately, she’s barking up the wrong tree. Arkady hasn’t faked interest in girls since he was fifteen, and he’s twenty-five now.

“Sorry, I really don’t dance. I just want to drink my beer. Then I should head home. I have work early,” Arkady replies.

And he thinks everything would be fine. Daisy is a nice girl and can take a no, but some asshole guy lumbers over.

“Don’t be a dick. Just dance with the girl. What are you, a fag?” the meathead slurs.

“Yes, actually, I am,” Arkady says coolly, trying not to bristle, but he has a bit of a temper. His manager calls him a hothead. His father says all real Russian men are fiery, and living in the states since he was six hasn’t changed that.

“Didn’t realize this party was a goddamn sausage fest. Why don’t you fuck off to the gay bar, dude?” The guy sneers.

Arkady knows better. He should walk away, but seeing how embarrassed Daisy is makes him angrier. He’s a ballet dancer. He’s used to homophobic slurs before he even confirms his sexuality, but he doesn’t like to see people upset, and Daisy looks like she’s blaming herself for this confrontation, judging by the guilt on her face.

“Why don’t you suck my dick?” Arkady says with a wicked grin, and Daisy snorts a laugh. Arkady’s attention is caught by her giggle, so he doesn’t see the punch coming till it’s too late. He takes a shot square to the jaw and drops his beer. The bottle shatters on the floor, spilling beer and glass everywhere.

His mother always taught him to stand up to bullies, to hit back if someone hits you, or they’ll think they can beat you down whenever they feel like it. So Arkady is used to fighting, to standing up for himself. Growing up gay and Russian, he’s been in more than a few fights, so if this guy thinks he’s going to run away with his tail between his legs, then he’s mistaken.

Arkady has a good right hook that he’s perfected in street fights and boxing classes. And even though the asshole really should have expected it, he looks surprised when a fist hits his face. He drops to his knees as blood pours from his broken nose.

No one had stepped in when the homophobe had hit him, but as soon as Arkady lands a blow, people jump in, pulling them both apart. People are yelling. Daisy is crying and trying to explain that Arkady didn’t start it, but he still finds himself being dragged outside by three guys. They look like they’re tempted to give him a beating on the guy’s behalf, but Arkady is braced and ready for a fight, and they seem to realize three on one won’t go as smoothly as they’d like.

Left on the street, Arkady rubs his jaw. It’s aching a little, will probably bruise, but he broke the other guy’s nose, so he’s pleased with the outcome. Starting to walk to a busier area so he can hail a taxi, he pulls out a packet of cigarettes from his leather jacket. He keeps saying he’ll quit. They want him to at work, as they worry it’ll impact his performance. But so far it hasn’t. He doesn’t smoke enough to counteract how much he works out and trains. He’s still one of the best.

He smokes, letting the steady and repetitive action of filling his lungs with smoke and then releasing it calm him. By the time he’s finished, he’s shaken off the fight a little, and his mood is improved a little by the fact he gets a taxi easily.