The Rhythm of Life: Part Nineteen-ish
This is now officially the longest chapter ever -- by just a hundred words or so, but still. Enjoy all the non-date dates!!!
Zander wasn’t ever one to be nervous. However, pacing out front of the Mariner Playhouse he was full of restless energy and thought he might crawl out of his skin. He’d dressed nicely, in black slacks and dress shoes with a crisp black button up; the shirt was made just a hair bit too tight, fitted, and was left un-tucked, accenting his lean waist and long arms. The only bit of color came from a thin green tie the same color as his eyes.
Right now he hated it all, and yanked at the collar of his shirt, trying to loosen to the tie that felt more like a noose.
He turned around to continue his pacing and found Adelaide coming up the steps. She waved and smiled, and he had an urge to undo all the meticulous work he’d put into his hair that day by raking it over his face and smothering himself with the thick curls.
She wore a solid navy blue dress that billowed down to her knees from a cinched waist. The neckline was high, covering her chest and most of her long neck, but the garment was sleeveless, revealing toned arms and creamy skin. She held a small clutch tightly in one hand as she jogged up the steps, her ballet flats seeming to barely touch the ground as she moved.
“I’m sorry I’m a bit late, the tram was delayed.” She stopped by his side, slightly breathless from her exertion, cheeks a healthy pink.
Zander pulled on his tie again, trying to loosen it even more. “It’s fine,” he managed past the lump in his throat. Really he had been a fool to agree to this, and figured the fact she looked so beautiful was a fine punishment.
Or something like that. He just really wanted to smother himself with a pillow and never think about Adelaide’s ivory skin ever again.
“Shall we?” She smiled, eyes glittering like sapphires, and held out an elbow to him. Zander took a deep breath, and returned her smile. He gently took her arm and laced it through his.
They walked up the last few steps to the main floor of the playhouse. Inside it was wide and open with a ticket stand and waiting area. On either side of the room were flights of stairs leading to the balcony seats, beyond the ticket stand were large doors leading to the floor seats.
Adelaide dug their tickets out from her bag and handed them to the usher. He directed them up the stairs, and to the left. They moved on past people milling around before the show, as they came to the stairs Adelaide hesitated and tried to turn them around quickly.
“What is it?”
“I think I’ll just use the loo before the show starts,” she mumbled, trying to her free her arm from his.
“Adelaide?” A shadow fell over them, standing on the steps above them.
“I didn’t know he would be here,” she hissed to Zander before turning around to face the person. Zander found a polished young man standing there, he had mousy brown hair and a pleasant face, and Zander felt his stomach drop.
“Gregory, I didn’t know you would be here.” Adelaide kept her grip on Zander’s arm, perhaps a little tighter than before. Of course that made sense, she was nervous.
“Last minute whim.” He smiled at her gently and moved down the steps. Once he was even with them he offered Adelaide a small bow with a smile. “It’s good to see, it’s been a while. You look wonderful.”
“Oh, thank you.” Adelaide bent her head, cheeks pink.
“Gregory is it? I’m Zander, nice to meet you.” He held out his hand, trying to affect a pleasant air.
“Oh, well met.” Gregory took his hand, shaking it firmly. “You’re Australian? How do you two know each other?”
“Through Sylvia!” Adelaide cut in quickly, before Zander could even open his mouth. “You know her dance instructor? For the party? He’s friends with Zander.”
“Ah, I see. I had heard uncle talking about that, Sylvia and her fancies.” He shook his head and turned to Zander. “And you dance as well?”
“Yeah.” Zander nodded. “Co-own a studio with my brothers.”
“How interesting.” Gregory gave Zander a quick once over then turned his attention back to Adelaide. “Well, I should let you two get seated. I was just speaking with some friends up there; I’m down on the floor.
He stepped a bit closer to Adelaide, gently placing his hand on her upper arm. “It was very good to see you. I hope you’ll be at my cousin’s party? Perhaps we can talk more then, hm?”
“Mm, of course.” Adelaide nodded. “I wouldn’t miss Sylvia’s coming out for the world. So you’ll see me there.”
“Good. Enjoy the show!” He gave her one last smile and moved on, ignoring Zander completely.
“You’ll see me, too,” Zander mumbled to himself, face sour.
“What was that?”
“Oh, nothing. So that’s him? Seems a nice enough bloke.” Zander grinned at Adelaide and patted her hand.
“I suppose. Come on, we shouldn’t be late.” She started pulling him up the steps, her face closed and unreadable. Zander wondered if he had done something wrong. But of course, he realized as they took their seats, Adelaide fidgeting with her purse and the hem of her dress, she was probably worried Gregory had thought them on a date.
“Hey,” he whispered and touched her arm. “Don’t worry about Gregory, yeah? If he thought we were on a date that might be good, get him a little jealous? Besides he seemed to notice how nice you look, I think you impressed him.”
“I wasn’t trying to impress him though,” Adelaide muttered. Zander had no time to respond as the music started. As he settled in his seat he thought he must’ve heard wrong. Yes, that was it. He had clearly heard her wrong. She had not gotten dressed up for him.
***
Neven kept his eyes on the front door of the restaurant, willing his brother to walk through it, but it didn’t seem to be working. He was aware of Maggie shifting next to him, the plush cushions of the booth sinking slightly as she moved.
“Maybe ya should ring him? He’s never late.”
Neven nodded and pulled his mobile phone from his pocket, pressing the speed dial. It took several rings, nearly going to voicemail, before his brother answered, sounding rather pathetic.
“Where are you, Dmitri?” Neven asked, switching to Ukrainian.
“I’ve got a migraine. I took a shower after running errands, thinking it would help, but now I just want to lay in the dark.”
“Should we postpone the celebratory dinner? It was your idea after all.”
“No, no! You two have fun, it took forever to get the reservation. Enjoy it.”
“If you’re sure…?”
“I am, please have fun for me. I’ll talk to you when you get home.” Without waiting for reply Dmitri hung up. Neven frowned at the phone and put it back in his jacket pocket.
“He has migraine headache, he wants us to enjoy dinner for him. He did work hard to get us reservations here.”
“Oh, poor thing.” Maggie frowned. “I’m sure he did work for it, and I have a feeling that hostess will miss him sorely.” She giggled, nodding toward the pretty young woman at the front of the restaurant. “Has Dmitri always been such a flirt?”
Neven laughed. “Always. When we were young and train in our mother’s studio, all the girls wanted to dance with Dmitri. Only Dmitri.”
“Aw, I’m sure they wanted to dance with you, too. I would’ve.”
“No, I was always grumpy. Dmitri he is… he ooze charm.”
“I’ve heard some stories though, about you.”
“From Jaden?” Neven quirked a brow and Maggie giggled.
“Yeah, from Jaden.” She shifted a bit closer to him and bumped his shoulder. “He told me about all the fun while on the circuit. The pranks and things… also mentioned girls here and there. I bet ya were plenty charming.”
“What does Jaden know? We were drinking partners, he is a sloppy drunk.”
Maggie covered her mouth with a hand, laughing. “Can’t hold his liquor?”
“He do fine, but I drink him under the table. Always.”
“Were ya drinking voodka?” Maggie lowered her voice. “Like a typical Eastern European?”
“Vodka is good, but bourbon is better.”
“What’d’ya say to a little contest?” Maggie smirked at him, chin balanced on her palm. Her thick auburn hair -- normally gentle waves -- had been curled for the night, spilling over her shoulder in a cascade of ringlets. The sequined green top she wore shimmered in the candlelight; glittering and changing colors like her eyes, shifting from emerald to forest to a dark, mossy color.
“You think you can out drink me?”
“Don’t think so,” she shook her head, “know so.”
Not taking his eyes off hers, he flagged down a waiter. “A bottle of your finest bourbon, two glasses.”
“Yes, sir.” The waiter scurried off to fulfill the order, and still Neven kept his eyes locked with Maggie’s.
“You will regret this in the morning,” he informed her.
“You’ll regret this when you have to pay the bill.”
When the waiter returned with the bottle, Neven proceeded to pour out an equal amount of the amber liquid into each glass. He hand one to Maggie and held his aloft.
“Budmo!” he said, tapping his glass against hers. They both drained their classes in one gulp.
“Oh, that’s good stuff, shame to waste it on shots.” Maggie licked her lips.
“Is celebration and life is short. Drink up, garna devchina*“ He refilled their glasses. “I thought you want to win?”
“Bring it on, Russian.”
“That is rude.” Neven took a swig of his drink. “Chav.”
“Bloody, fookin’ right.” Maggie tiled her head back, downing the drink.
They continued on, tit for tat, all through their meal and well into dessert, the liquid in the bottle going lower and lower. After dessert was finished, the restaurant quiet after the dinner rush, they relaxed in their corner booth. Maggie’s eyelids were drooping, shading her eyes, and she had long ago kicked off her shoes, drawing her feet up. Neven sat back, his legs straight and swirled his drink.
“Neven? Can I ask you something?” She spoke slowly, carefully, but he knew it wasn’t because she had been drinking.
“Yes.” He was well aware of what she was about to ask, and for once he wouldn’t mind answering. Though it was impossible to know what her reaction would be.
“How did it happen? You hurting your knee?”
“Do you want to see it?” She looked startled but slowly nodded. Neven sat up, and she scooted away, giving him room to bring his leg up onto the cushions of the booth. He drew up the leg on his slacks, showing off the scarred, gnarled mess that had once been his right knee.
“Jesus, no wonder it hurts all the time.” She sat down her glass and reached out, brushing her fingers lightly over the scar. Neven gave her a faint smile and replaced the pant leg, shifting so his feet were stretched out again, leaning back.
He picked up his glass again and downed it, suddenly aware of how drunk he was. He leaned forward, filling his glass and topping off Maggie’s.
“Two years ago my partner retire to get married, start a family. I was given a break from dance, so I go home to Kiev.” He nursed his drink, staring at the candles on the table, burning down low in their holders. “I was champion with trophies piled high and sponsors and championship checks; and I was very smug.”
“In Kiev I got bored, so I started looking for fun. First it was clubs, with women and liquor, then it was betting on things -- fights, races, even ballroom competitions.” He laughed. “Then I start to gamble. I played cards, poker. I did well enough in some establishments, got even more smug.”
Maggie shifted closer to him, absently placing her hand on his arm. Neven wasn’t sure she realized she’d done it, but accepted the support regardless.
“When I got too big for them, they tell me about a different club. More selective. So I go where they tell me. It was run down building in an old part of town, I should know it was no good, but that did not stop me. You pay to get in, the money forfeit if you win or lose. I start out good, then I lose. And I keep losing.”
He finally turned and met Maggie’s eyes, they were glassy and shimmering in the candlelight, but he wasn’t sure if it was from the liquor or his story. She grabbed his hand, holding it between both of hers. He smiled at her gently.
“I try to win back my money, but I only ever lose. I think if I can just get one good hand, I can get it all back. I ask for money from everyone I know, I lose sponsors because I won’t dance, and my coaches and trainers turned their backs. I sell things, everything I could. I lived in squalor so I could keep going back. I was stupid.”
“And they did that? To your knee?”
“Mmm,” he nodded. “I was so in debt, they send out thugs. First time they come, they knock on my door… it’s a warning. The second time they come, they beat down my door… it’s a reminder and a threat. The third time they come, they beat on me. The men, they don’t know anything about me, they just sending a message. So they attack and beat me, one finally took a metal pipe to my knee.”
Maggie made a noise in the back of her throat and he looked up at her. He sat down his glass and reached up, brushing back some her hair behind her ear.
“Is my fault, I was stupid. They left me for dead; the landlady, she find me and call for help. They take me to a terrible hospital, the doctors are no good, they do, uh, ‘hack job’ on my knee; that’s why it always hurt.”
“What happened after?”
“Dmitri come to Kiev, Kam too. Kam paid off my debts and my medical bills. You know about the studio, hm?”
“Yeah, a bit. Things aren’t going so well right now.”
“Kam is in debt now because of me.” He sighed. “I have no way to repay him, I do this now, coaching, but it will never come close to what he did for me.” Neven looked up at Maggie. “So you see, you should not feel bad for me, the leg is penance for ruining more than just my life.”
“I don’t believe that.” Maggie shook her head, she lifted up one hand, raking back his hair. Her then hand drifted down the side of his face, across his jaw to grip his chin, forcing him to look at her fully.
“I don’t believe that,” she whispered again. Her eyes were soft, darting over his face, her hand -- soft and warm -- still on his chin. Maggie pressed her lips together, brows knitted slightly, then leaned forward, laying her lips against his.
Neven tilted his head back and she moved closer, leaning over him on her knees. Her hands were on either side of his face, fingers splayed as she opened her mouth to deepen the kiss; his hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her close.
They pulled apart several moments later for air, Neven was practically laying back on the seat of the booth while was Maggie draped over him. She pulled back, sitting up, and brushed her hair from her face; which was flushed pink, her lips swollen.
“I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.” She shook her head with wide eyes, mortified.
“Mag--”
“I’m so sorry, Neven!” She scrambled to gather her coat and bag, sliding out of the booth. Without another glance toward him, she raced for the front door, shrugging into her jacket.
Neven scooted out of the booth and stood. Just before he took a step, one hand raised, he caught sight of his cane propped against partition of the booth. Sighing, he sank back down and rubbed his eye.
“Neven?” He looked up, stunned to find a timid Maggie in front of him.
“You came back?” he asked, blinking dumbly. She bite her lip and crouched down in front of him.
“I was just, I was embarrassed. We’ve been drinking and you’re not in a good place, I should never have--”
“You are worry you take advantage of me?” He arched an eyebrow.
“Well it’s just that I’ve thought about kissing ever since you shaved your blasted beard, and you were spilling your guts…”she trailed off, looking down.
“Maggie?” Neven reached out, touching her shoulder. “Is good. Is very good.”
“Really?” She lifted startled eyes to meet his. “So… this won’t be awkward now?”
“I think only if we did not continue…?” Neven slowly lifted his hand, cupping her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. A slow grin spread across her face, lighting her eyes until they seemed to glow.
“I would like that.” Maggie rocked forward and kissed him.
------
* means 'beautiful girl. :D
AND BEFORE YOU GO HAVE SOME PICS! BECAUSE YOU NEED SOME PICS OKAY!?
First: Adelaide's dress
Second a note on Zander's clothing. I think you know the style? Everything seems a bit too small but it isn't really and if you're long and lean it's just very very unf. I don't care if anyone else thinks this, because I do and it's my story. ;P
Now have some spam of Viggo Jonasson because he's Zoisite now and it's all Spirit's fault. IT'S ALWAYS SPIRIT'S FAULT!
But you know, really fitted, and tailored with pretty hair, lookin' like a stud s totally how Zander rolls. And then sometimes, sometimes, he pouts and the hair goes boom.
Okay moving on! One note is that I wrote 'the truth about the knee' (as I call it) for ficchat once a while back, some things are the same, some things are different. So yeah.
Now have some pics that inspired Neven and Maggie -- because they are naughty children and were not supposed to do that now but they wouldn't listen to their fucking author. OH NO! They had go about their business.
It was all a bit like this only, you know, more clothes. With a hint of this, a minute smattering of this here. And if we're lucky, there may eventually be something like this'un.
AND NOW YOU KNOW WHY I SAID EVERYTHING ESCALATED QUICKLY!
Zander wasn’t ever one to be nervous. However, pacing out front of the Mariner Playhouse he was full of restless energy and thought he might crawl out of his skin. He’d dressed nicely, in black slacks and dress shoes with a crisp black button up; the shirt was made just a hair bit too tight, fitted, and was left un-tucked, accenting his lean waist and long arms. The only bit of color came from a thin green tie the same color as his eyes.
Right now he hated it all, and yanked at the collar of his shirt, trying to loosen to the tie that felt more like a noose.
He turned around to continue his pacing and found Adelaide coming up the steps. She waved and smiled, and he had an urge to undo all the meticulous work he’d put into his hair that day by raking it over his face and smothering himself with the thick curls.
She wore a solid navy blue dress that billowed down to her knees from a cinched waist. The neckline was high, covering her chest and most of her long neck, but the garment was sleeveless, revealing toned arms and creamy skin. She held a small clutch tightly in one hand as she jogged up the steps, her ballet flats seeming to barely touch the ground as she moved.
“I’m sorry I’m a bit late, the tram was delayed.” She stopped by his side, slightly breathless from her exertion, cheeks a healthy pink.
Zander pulled on his tie again, trying to loosen it even more. “It’s fine,” he managed past the lump in his throat. Really he had been a fool to agree to this, and figured the fact she looked so beautiful was a fine punishment.
Or something like that. He just really wanted to smother himself with a pillow and never think about Adelaide’s ivory skin ever again.
“Shall we?” She smiled, eyes glittering like sapphires, and held out an elbow to him. Zander took a deep breath, and returned her smile. He gently took her arm and laced it through his.
They walked up the last few steps to the main floor of the playhouse. Inside it was wide and open with a ticket stand and waiting area. On either side of the room were flights of stairs leading to the balcony seats, beyond the ticket stand were large doors leading to the floor seats.
Adelaide dug their tickets out from her bag and handed them to the usher. He directed them up the stairs, and to the left. They moved on past people milling around before the show, as they came to the stairs Adelaide hesitated and tried to turn them around quickly.
“What is it?”
“I think I’ll just use the loo before the show starts,” she mumbled, trying to her free her arm from his.
“Adelaide?” A shadow fell over them, standing on the steps above them.
“I didn’t know he would be here,” she hissed to Zander before turning around to face the person. Zander found a polished young man standing there, he had mousy brown hair and a pleasant face, and Zander felt his stomach drop.
“Gregory, I didn’t know you would be here.” Adelaide kept her grip on Zander’s arm, perhaps a little tighter than before. Of course that made sense, she was nervous.
“Last minute whim.” He smiled at her gently and moved down the steps. Once he was even with them he offered Adelaide a small bow with a smile. “It’s good to see, it’s been a while. You look wonderful.”
“Oh, thank you.” Adelaide bent her head, cheeks pink.
“Gregory is it? I’m Zander, nice to meet you.” He held out his hand, trying to affect a pleasant air.
“Oh, well met.” Gregory took his hand, shaking it firmly. “You’re Australian? How do you two know each other?”
“Through Sylvia!” Adelaide cut in quickly, before Zander could even open his mouth. “You know her dance instructor? For the party? He’s friends with Zander.”
“Ah, I see. I had heard uncle talking about that, Sylvia and her fancies.” He shook his head and turned to Zander. “And you dance as well?”
“Yeah.” Zander nodded. “Co-own a studio with my brothers.”
“How interesting.” Gregory gave Zander a quick once over then turned his attention back to Adelaide. “Well, I should let you two get seated. I was just speaking with some friends up there; I’m down on the floor.
He stepped a bit closer to Adelaide, gently placing his hand on her upper arm. “It was very good to see you. I hope you’ll be at my cousin’s party? Perhaps we can talk more then, hm?”
“Mm, of course.” Adelaide nodded. “I wouldn’t miss Sylvia’s coming out for the world. So you’ll see me there.”
“Good. Enjoy the show!” He gave her one last smile and moved on, ignoring Zander completely.
“You’ll see me, too,” Zander mumbled to himself, face sour.
“What was that?”
“Oh, nothing. So that’s him? Seems a nice enough bloke.” Zander grinned at Adelaide and patted her hand.
“I suppose. Come on, we shouldn’t be late.” She started pulling him up the steps, her face closed and unreadable. Zander wondered if he had done something wrong. But of course, he realized as they took their seats, Adelaide fidgeting with her purse and the hem of her dress, she was probably worried Gregory had thought them on a date.
“Hey,” he whispered and touched her arm. “Don’t worry about Gregory, yeah? If he thought we were on a date that might be good, get him a little jealous? Besides he seemed to notice how nice you look, I think you impressed him.”
“I wasn’t trying to impress him though,” Adelaide muttered. Zander had no time to respond as the music started. As he settled in his seat he thought he must’ve heard wrong. Yes, that was it. He had clearly heard her wrong. She had not gotten dressed up for him.
***
Neven kept his eyes on the front door of the restaurant, willing his brother to walk through it, but it didn’t seem to be working. He was aware of Maggie shifting next to him, the plush cushions of the booth sinking slightly as she moved.
“Maybe ya should ring him? He’s never late.”
Neven nodded and pulled his mobile phone from his pocket, pressing the speed dial. It took several rings, nearly going to voicemail, before his brother answered, sounding rather pathetic.
“Where are you, Dmitri?” Neven asked, switching to Ukrainian.
“I’ve got a migraine. I took a shower after running errands, thinking it would help, but now I just want to lay in the dark.”
“Should we postpone the celebratory dinner? It was your idea after all.”
“No, no! You two have fun, it took forever to get the reservation. Enjoy it.”
“If you’re sure…?”
“I am, please have fun for me. I’ll talk to you when you get home.” Without waiting for reply Dmitri hung up. Neven frowned at the phone and put it back in his jacket pocket.
“He has migraine headache, he wants us to enjoy dinner for him. He did work hard to get us reservations here.”
“Oh, poor thing.” Maggie frowned. “I’m sure he did work for it, and I have a feeling that hostess will miss him sorely.” She giggled, nodding toward the pretty young woman at the front of the restaurant. “Has Dmitri always been such a flirt?”
Neven laughed. “Always. When we were young and train in our mother’s studio, all the girls wanted to dance with Dmitri. Only Dmitri.”
“Aw, I’m sure they wanted to dance with you, too. I would’ve.”
“No, I was always grumpy. Dmitri he is… he ooze charm.”
“I’ve heard some stories though, about you.”
“From Jaden?” Neven quirked a brow and Maggie giggled.
“Yeah, from Jaden.” She shifted a bit closer to him and bumped his shoulder. “He told me about all the fun while on the circuit. The pranks and things… also mentioned girls here and there. I bet ya were plenty charming.”
“What does Jaden know? We were drinking partners, he is a sloppy drunk.”
Maggie covered her mouth with a hand, laughing. “Can’t hold his liquor?”
“He do fine, but I drink him under the table. Always.”
“Were ya drinking voodka?” Maggie lowered her voice. “Like a typical Eastern European?”
“Vodka is good, but bourbon is better.”
“What’d’ya say to a little contest?” Maggie smirked at him, chin balanced on her palm. Her thick auburn hair -- normally gentle waves -- had been curled for the night, spilling over her shoulder in a cascade of ringlets. The sequined green top she wore shimmered in the candlelight; glittering and changing colors like her eyes, shifting from emerald to forest to a dark, mossy color.
“You think you can out drink me?”
“Don’t think so,” she shook her head, “know so.”
Not taking his eyes off hers, he flagged down a waiter. “A bottle of your finest bourbon, two glasses.”
“Yes, sir.” The waiter scurried off to fulfill the order, and still Neven kept his eyes locked with Maggie’s.
“You will regret this in the morning,” he informed her.
“You’ll regret this when you have to pay the bill.”
When the waiter returned with the bottle, Neven proceeded to pour out an equal amount of the amber liquid into each glass. He hand one to Maggie and held his aloft.
“Budmo!” he said, tapping his glass against hers. They both drained their classes in one gulp.
“Oh, that’s good stuff, shame to waste it on shots.” Maggie licked her lips.
“Is celebration and life is short. Drink up, garna devchina*“ He refilled their glasses. “I thought you want to win?”
“Bring it on, Russian.”
“That is rude.” Neven took a swig of his drink. “Chav.”
“Bloody, fookin’ right.” Maggie tiled her head back, downing the drink.
They continued on, tit for tat, all through their meal and well into dessert, the liquid in the bottle going lower and lower. After dessert was finished, the restaurant quiet after the dinner rush, they relaxed in their corner booth. Maggie’s eyelids were drooping, shading her eyes, and she had long ago kicked off her shoes, drawing her feet up. Neven sat back, his legs straight and swirled his drink.
“Neven? Can I ask you something?” She spoke slowly, carefully, but he knew it wasn’t because she had been drinking.
“Yes.” He was well aware of what she was about to ask, and for once he wouldn’t mind answering. Though it was impossible to know what her reaction would be.
“How did it happen? You hurting your knee?”
“Do you want to see it?” She looked startled but slowly nodded. Neven sat up, and she scooted away, giving him room to bring his leg up onto the cushions of the booth. He drew up the leg on his slacks, showing off the scarred, gnarled mess that had once been his right knee.
“Jesus, no wonder it hurts all the time.” She sat down her glass and reached out, brushing her fingers lightly over the scar. Neven gave her a faint smile and replaced the pant leg, shifting so his feet were stretched out again, leaning back.
He picked up his glass again and downed it, suddenly aware of how drunk he was. He leaned forward, filling his glass and topping off Maggie’s.
“Two years ago my partner retire to get married, start a family. I was given a break from dance, so I go home to Kiev.” He nursed his drink, staring at the candles on the table, burning down low in their holders. “I was champion with trophies piled high and sponsors and championship checks; and I was very smug.”
“In Kiev I got bored, so I started looking for fun. First it was clubs, with women and liquor, then it was betting on things -- fights, races, even ballroom competitions.” He laughed. “Then I start to gamble. I played cards, poker. I did well enough in some establishments, got even more smug.”
Maggie shifted closer to him, absently placing her hand on his arm. Neven wasn’t sure she realized she’d done it, but accepted the support regardless.
“When I got too big for them, they tell me about a different club. More selective. So I go where they tell me. It was run down building in an old part of town, I should know it was no good, but that did not stop me. You pay to get in, the money forfeit if you win or lose. I start out good, then I lose. And I keep losing.”
He finally turned and met Maggie’s eyes, they were glassy and shimmering in the candlelight, but he wasn’t sure if it was from the liquor or his story. She grabbed his hand, holding it between both of hers. He smiled at her gently.
“I try to win back my money, but I only ever lose. I think if I can just get one good hand, I can get it all back. I ask for money from everyone I know, I lose sponsors because I won’t dance, and my coaches and trainers turned their backs. I sell things, everything I could. I lived in squalor so I could keep going back. I was stupid.”
“And they did that? To your knee?”
“Mmm,” he nodded. “I was so in debt, they send out thugs. First time they come, they knock on my door… it’s a warning. The second time they come, they beat down my door… it’s a reminder and a threat. The third time they come, they beat on me. The men, they don’t know anything about me, they just sending a message. So they attack and beat me, one finally took a metal pipe to my knee.”
Maggie made a noise in the back of her throat and he looked up at her. He sat down his glass and reached up, brushing back some her hair behind her ear.
“Is my fault, I was stupid. They left me for dead; the landlady, she find me and call for help. They take me to a terrible hospital, the doctors are no good, they do, uh, ‘hack job’ on my knee; that’s why it always hurt.”
“What happened after?”
“Dmitri come to Kiev, Kam too. Kam paid off my debts and my medical bills. You know about the studio, hm?”
“Yeah, a bit. Things aren’t going so well right now.”
“Kam is in debt now because of me.” He sighed. “I have no way to repay him, I do this now, coaching, but it will never come close to what he did for me.” Neven looked up at Maggie. “So you see, you should not feel bad for me, the leg is penance for ruining more than just my life.”
“I don’t believe that.” Maggie shook her head, she lifted up one hand, raking back his hair. Her then hand drifted down the side of his face, across his jaw to grip his chin, forcing him to look at her fully.
“I don’t believe that,” she whispered again. Her eyes were soft, darting over his face, her hand -- soft and warm -- still on his chin. Maggie pressed her lips together, brows knitted slightly, then leaned forward, laying her lips against his.
Neven tilted his head back and she moved closer, leaning over him on her knees. Her hands were on either side of his face, fingers splayed as she opened her mouth to deepen the kiss; his hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her close.
They pulled apart several moments later for air, Neven was practically laying back on the seat of the booth while was Maggie draped over him. She pulled back, sitting up, and brushed her hair from her face; which was flushed pink, her lips swollen.
“I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.” She shook her head with wide eyes, mortified.
“Mag--”
“I’m so sorry, Neven!” She scrambled to gather her coat and bag, sliding out of the booth. Without another glance toward him, she raced for the front door, shrugging into her jacket.
Neven scooted out of the booth and stood. Just before he took a step, one hand raised, he caught sight of his cane propped against partition of the booth. Sighing, he sank back down and rubbed his eye.
“Neven?” He looked up, stunned to find a timid Maggie in front of him.
“You came back?” he asked, blinking dumbly. She bite her lip and crouched down in front of him.
“I was just, I was embarrassed. We’ve been drinking and you’re not in a good place, I should never have--”
“You are worry you take advantage of me?” He arched an eyebrow.
“Well it’s just that I’ve thought about kissing ever since you shaved your blasted beard, and you were spilling your guts…”she trailed off, looking down.
“Maggie?” Neven reached out, touching her shoulder. “Is good. Is very good.”
“Really?” She lifted startled eyes to meet his. “So… this won’t be awkward now?”
“I think only if we did not continue…?” Neven slowly lifted his hand, cupping her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. A slow grin spread across her face, lighting her eyes until they seemed to glow.
“I would like that.” Maggie rocked forward and kissed him.
------
* means 'beautiful girl. :D
AND BEFORE YOU GO HAVE SOME PICS! BECAUSE YOU NEED SOME PICS OKAY!?
First: Adelaide's dress
Second a note on Zander's clothing. I think you know the style? Everything seems a bit too small but it isn't really and if you're long and lean it's just very very unf. I don't care if anyone else thinks this, because I do and it's my story. ;P
Now have some spam of Viggo Jonasson because he's Zoisite now and it's all Spirit's fault. IT'S ALWAYS SPIRIT'S FAULT!
But you know, really fitted, and tailored with pretty hair, lookin' like a stud s totally how Zander rolls. And then sometimes, sometimes, he pouts and the hair goes boom.
Okay moving on! One note is that I wrote 'the truth about the knee' (as I call it) for ficchat once a while back, some things are the same, some things are different. So yeah.
Now have some pics that inspired Neven and Maggie -- because they are naughty children and were not supposed to do that now but they wouldn't listen to their fucking author. OH NO! They had go about their business.
It was all a bit like this only, you know, more clothes. With a hint of this, a minute smattering of this here. And if we're lucky, there may eventually be something like this'un.
AND NOW YOU KNOW WHY I SAID EVERYTHING ESCALATED QUICKLY!