Wild Horses (43 page)

Kai’s shoulders straightened. “So you think I have a chance to fix this?”

Theodore shrugged. “I didn’t say that.”

T
HE
sky was darkening overhead as bright streaks of fuchsia and orange disappeared behind the jagged peaks of the city skyline to the west. Kai sat on the filthy concrete of the loading dock he used to know so well.

Home again.

The words rankled in his mind as the rancid stench of a nearby Dumpster competed for air with the sweet, heady scent of the stephanotis in his left hand. His right hand held his cell phone. He was waiting to get a word, any word. His thoughts began to unravel into alternate possibilities. Maybe Attila wouldn’t want him back after all. Kai was, after all, a slut. He had, after all, called Attila names, and he had unleashed undeserved anger in his direction. They both came with their own history—Kai understood that now, even though he had failed to understand only several hours prior. Feeding time had already passed, and Kai wondered whether Attila had any luck finding Lindsey, and if he had, why didn’t he let him know. Then again, maybe Attila had left without him. It would have served him right.

He sent another text. Then he slid off the loading dock and walked up Smallman Street to a pizza joint that opened not too long ago. He could hear the deep pounding of music from a nearby club that was ready to open for the night. Months ago, he would have been tempted to check it out, but right now, only Attila and Lindsey were on his mind. He ordered three slices of pizza and two large bottles of Mountain Dew, hoping that the extra caffeine would restore his sense of balance and banish the continuous, low-level fuzziness that the drug had left behind.

T
HE
fragrant flower now lay tossed on the cooling concrete to Kai’s left, right next to his cell phone. He held the bottle of soda in both hands. He wanted to be reassured that everyone was alright and he wanted to know that Attila would come back and pick him up. Maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe Attila was angry enough to leave him behind. Theodore’s words came back to him:
Why do you think we broke up?
Theodore had called Attila a fraud, at least to Kai. It was only logical that he would have thrown out the same word in the heat of anger. Maybe that’s the wedge that drove Attila and Theodore apart, and a similar accusation may well cost Kai his love as well. His home, too. The wild anger he felt before was replaced by regret. Unshed tears began to threaten their appearance.

Attila hadn’t called, and Kai’s texts went unanswered.

The wind picked up, bringing the fresh, muddy smell of the Allegheny River. Kai had been over by the riverbank only an hour ago—it was a decent place to take a leak—and he noticed the way the murky current was swollen with last night’s rain. The river moved fast, rippling, its surface distorting the colorful lights that reached it from the other bank. The water would still be warm enough for a dip, and there was a place where Kai used to scrub his body with silt and rinse off in the current. It was only waist-deep and he wasn’t scared to go in. A few steps out, the river bottom sloped down and he would have had to swim, had he been any good at it.

Tonight, the river was his trusty companion.

He took another sip of soda, wishing for something stronger but not daring to indulge, in case he was needed after all. Kai sent one more text message to Attila. It was his last one. A few minutes after he hit the send button, the low battery signal flashed across the screen, and the phone turned as dim as the dark night around him. He stayed up, thinking of all the decent people that were asleep at two o’clock in the morning. He could have been one of them. Instead, he was homeless again, kicked out by yet another man in his life, sitting like a bum on a stinky loading dock. Just like his stepfather had predicted: a slutty fag, unwanted and unloved, homeless and despondent. Yet every time he heard a motor nearby, he strained his ears, hoping for the deep rumble to approach. Attila’s black Bronco was nowhere in evidence, though, even though Kai remained perched and waiting. His useless cell phone was now in his pocket, the fingers of his left hand clenched around a vial of exotic white blossoms, his right hand secure around the empty plastic bottle.

It wasn’t three o’clock in the morning yet—there was still a chance Attila would come, if only to talk to him.

H
AL
sat behind Attila as Tibor drove his car to his downtown office. The police had called, letting them know that six young women, barefoot and dressed in garbage bags, showed up at the address of Tibor’s law offices, trying to seek shelter in the lobby of the building. The night guard did not allow them to enter the elevator, but called the police instead.

“So the warehouse had a lot of evidence of people having been kept in there against their will,” Tibor continued as Attila stared at the road ahead. “There were two cages, both equipped with locks. There was a bucket in each to provide sanitation facilities. The police also found several garbage bags of clothing and shoes in the office area of the warehouse—apparently the perp stripped his victims naked before he locked them up. At least, they figure it’s a guy doing this. By the time you got there, the girls had flown the coop, and I’m curious to see how that happened. They seem to be unharmed, at least.”

With some satisfaction, Attila thought back to his encounter with Johnny back at Frankie’s and the way his whip had lashed out and had wrapped around Johnny’s arm. There had been a satisfying amount of resistance as he sent the man flying backward, and there had been that delicious crack of skull against the painted pillar of steel.

Poor Lindsey.

“This whole thing is crazy,” Attila said, rubbing his forehead with his hands. “This is Pittsburgh. One of the safest places to grow up. Low crime rate, decent schools, all that. I would have never imagined such a thing could happen here.”

“Jeffrey Dahmer ruled a reign of terror in Milwaukee,” Tibor said. “Not exactly your crime capital of the world. I don’t do criminal law for a reason, you know. I see these cases, and they are fucking infuriating. Like that couple a few years back, in Philadelphia, who kidnapped several handicapped people and locked them up in the basement, just to get their social security checks? I don’t think I could defend a person like that. I don’t think I could keep sane at night. That’s why I do corporate law.”

“This is just too farfetched.” Attila’s voice was barely audible over the road noise, but Tibor heard him anyway.

“You know this guy?”

“Not really. I ran into him in an old bar I used to visit years back, before Theodore. He pulled a sword out of a cane on me.”

“You’re shitting me! A sword cane? Aren’t those illegal? Are you okay?”

“I am fine. And, no, a sword cane is legal. It is not a switchblade.”

“What did you do?” Tibor’s foot got heavier on the gas pedal as his excitement grew.

“I subdued him with my whip.” There was capitulation in Attila’s voice at the admission.

“Your what?” Tibor asked in a voice that signaled his unwillingness to comprehend.

“A bullwhip. It’s a useful tool. You don’t need a license like you would for a gun. I know how to use one well, and before you ask, it’s not illegal, either.”

“You’re fucking crazy. Both you and the guy you beat. So what happened?”

Attila pressed his lips together. “I don’t really want to talk about it.” Then he thought of the way Kai backed him up, standing by his side with a strong arm snaked around his waist.

It was dark already. Kai would be safe with Theodore for the time being. He wanted to call him, but did not want to face Kai’s wrath just yet. Despite the absence of his rational filters, Kai had been justifiably upset at finding out about Attila’s history in such a melodramatic way. Attila did not want to address the issue with Kai still drugged and not entirely “with it.” Likewise, Attila did not forget the sting of Kai’s harsh words and accusations. He wanted to be bigger than holding it against one whose judgment was compromised, but he still hoped that Kai would pick up the phone first. It would ease the awkward situation, especially as Kai had said some things that were too hard to pass over.

You’re nothin’ but a fuckin’ liar.

Attila pressed his eyes shut, only too glad to miss the sight of downtown buildings whizzing past. He was many things, but a liar was not one of them. Duplicity was futile—there was no purpose to it. He was who he was, and he had never pretended to be anyone else.

Years ago, Theodore accused him of something similar when he had made a mistaken assumption as to Attila’s motivations and preferences. Thinking back to Theodore, Attila wondered if he had even loved him. The emotion was more one of comfort than of passion, and the feeling was different from what he now felt for Kai. A fleeting sadness passed over him on account of Theodore and the devastation that followed his departure. Now he knew Theodore had not been his true love, though. Theodore was nothing compared to Kai.

I hate you.

Kai’s words still stung, but try as he might, he could not take them seriously. This was Kai, the man who vaulted onto Vermillion’s back and survived to do it again. Kai, who faced down Mona by his side. Theodore had taken Mona’s threats as an out from a relationship on its way to nowhere, perhaps, but Kai was made of sterner stuff. Kai, who met his grandfather and had him riding again, who was met with loving cheer by every member of his family. Kai, who had tried so hard to cover up his nefarious past.

Everyone had a past. Attila had his own demons to wrestle, but he would never lie about the things he had done. He was not proud of the way he froze when faced with crowds of people. He hated the way his system seemed to shut down and information ceased to flow in his overstimulated mind. It embarrassed him to have highly structured preparations that allowed him to tolerate the crowds that surrounded equestrian competition, but he knew he couldn’t give them up. They helped him focus—they helped him cope. In the same way, he had his own petty rituals that allowed him to enter bars and clubs in search of carnal satisfaction. He would go to any length to prevent being mobbed or pressed into a corner, and with a bit of experimentation, he had found a way that brought pleasure and excitement to others while allowing him to entertain a false feeling of fitting in, of belonging. He didn’t lie—not even to himself—and allowed that he was still an outsider who only pretended to have friends. It sufficed. His dual life helped him manage his anxiety and keep the throngs from suffocating him.

Kai might not understand all that, not yet. Kai should understand that it was his turn to call and apologize, though. Yet he wasn’t calling. He was with Theodore, clearing his mind and having a good time. An unpleasant thought crossed Attila’s mind: he wondered whether Kai and Theodore would get along, and if they did, whether they’d get along a little too well. His stomach clenched in pain.

“You okay, Attila?” Tibor asked.

“Yes.”

“We will go to my offices, where the police have already arrived and begun to question the girls and collect evidence. Some have been taken to a hospital. Will you be alright with all that?”

“Yes.” Attila would have liked to deny any special allowances were necessary on his behalf, but the night had grown old and his stubborn nature began to soften.

“There is pizza. We’ll get to eat.”

“That is good.” Attila wished Kai were there.

“Where is Kai, again?” Tibor asked.

“With Theodore.” His voice grew cold as he uttered those words. He saw Tibor’s hands stiffen on the steering wheel.

“Is there a problem, Attila?” Tibor asked.

Attila did not answer. Answering would have meant to either reveal inconvenient information or to lie.

Tibor, familiar with the pattern, sighed. “If you need any help, let me know, okay? Kai is a good guy, and even good guys make mistakes.”

Do they ever.

Attila turned away from his brother-in-law, looking out the window but not seeing the closed storefronts of the downtown area. He heard and he understood, but it was Kai’s turn to call, and Kai wasn’t calling. As much as he was concerned for Kai, Attila would not be crawling on his hands and knees only because he too happened to have a somewhat colorful history.

T
HE
law firm’s large conference room had turned into a command post full of EMTs and female police officers. The smaller conference room smelled of pizza. Several half-eaten pies were still in boxes on the table, and cans of soda and iced tea were leaving rings of perspiration upon its polished wood surface.

Attila scanned the crowd of young women, who were all dressed in generic gray sweats and navy T-shirts and wore hospital slippers. Lindsey’s blonde hair gleamed from across the table. “Lindsey,” he called out, noting that Hal was already seated by her side. “Are you okay?”

She met his eyes and gave a serious nod. Then she searched the space around him. “Where is Kai, Attila?”

“He is still in Lawrenceville,” Attila answered in an uncertain voice.

“I was hoping to thank him. I wouldn’t have been able to pick that lock if it weren’t for him.”

“Pick a lock?” Attila stood still, his eyes fixed on the young woman he first met as a gawky thirteen-year-old.

“It was just a gym-locker combination lock. It took some concentration and patience, that’s all. Had it been the kind with a key, I’d have tried my hair pin, but those take a lot more practice.” Lindsey smiled when she saw the shocked expression on Attila’s face. “It’s all good, really! He was telling me all about his life on the streets, and surviving, and he was teaching me all kinds of things that would help me toughen up—or at least, that’s what he used to call it back then. I just never expected to be drugged and wake up in a cage.” Lindsey’s eyes assumed a vacant look, much like Attila’s when he was surrounded by a crowd of people.

“You don’t have to talk about it, Lin,” Hal murmured by her side.