Page 175 of Lethal Obsession

I stare at the floor, still unable to speak, my head rushing with memories.

A week after the night in our dorm, Lars doesn’t show for soccer practice. I go looking for him and discover him lying on the floor in the changing rooms, being kicked to within an inch of his life by a pack of older boys, all laughing and screaming “faggot.”

I rush them with such mindless rage that they’re taken by surprise. Lars manages to roll out of reach. He immediately enters the fray with a rage to equal my own, despite the uneven odds against us. Our combined efforts are so manically ferocious that in the end one of the boys calls for help, and when the masters turn up it’s Lars and me who get in trouble, instead of them.

We’re suspended for a week. Lars’s parents are away, so he comes back to Miami with me. My father calls us both into the study and asks us to explain what happened.

I have a whole story prepared, but before I can start telling it, Lars looks directly at my tough, extremely traditional Russian father and says without one moment of hesitation: “I’m homosexual, Mr. Petrovsky. Some other boys found out and tried to beat me up. Alexei came to my defense.”

I stare at him in mingled shock and admiration. I think it might be the bravest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

Even my father is shaken out of his customary composure by such openness. “Is this true, Alexei?”

I nod. “Yes, sir.”

“And you?” He seems uncharacteristically unsure of himself. “Are you also homosexual?”

I shake my head. “No, sir.” I put my arm around Lars’s shoulders, and despite how afraid I am of my father’s disapproval, I stare directly at him. “But Lars is my best friend. He still is, no matter what you say.”

My father looks between us for a long time.

Then finally, he smiles. “So,” he says. “This is good. A best friend is the most important thing a man can have. I am glad, Alexei. And I am proud that you came to your friend’s defense.” He comes around the desk and solemnly shakes Lars’s hand. “You are a very brave young man,” he says quietly. “And you are always welcome in my home.”

I suddenly realize that Benny has stopped speaking and is looking at me, a silent question in his eyes. I think back to the last thing he said.

“No.” My voice is hoarse with unshed tears. I clear my throat. “No,” I say again. “We were never together. I—I never fucking knew.” I look at Benny, the pain and sadness in his eyes an unspoken reprimand. “He’s my best friend. He’s—” I falter, unable to find the words. “More,” I rasp out eventually.

He’s late nights when I’m bleeding and beaten, and there seems no way out of the hell my life has become.

He’s silent comfort on the other end of the phone line when I just need to hear someone breathing, or else put a knife in my own body.

He’s gripping my shoulders on a London street when I’m half insane with rage and whiskey, telling me over and over again that he’s sorry he took Ofelia to that club.

He’s dancing with me in a Granada club at five in the morning with a set, grim look, saying to me over the music, “You love her, motherfucker, don’t you?”

I meet Benny’s eyes. “I love him,” I say roughly. “But not like that. I wish—I wish I could have—” I break off, unable to finish the sentence. And just like that, the tears I’ve struggled to hold back break through like a fucking dam, my entire body wracked with sickening, breathless gasps I’m absolutely helpless to contain.

“Ah, Jesus,” I hear Benny say resignedly. “You could at least have let me hate you a while longer.”

Lars has been in surgery for several hours when the neurosurgeon from Rome finally arrives. Soon after, we’re informed that the operation will likely continue for at least six hours more.

I ask Jack to send someone to collect Ofelia and Lourdes and bring them to the hospital. “Apparently Roman is on his way,” I tell Benny. “Better if I’m not here when he arrives. And I need to talk to Mak.”

He regards me skeptically. “Coward.”

“Fair.” I stare at the closed doors leading to the operating theater. “You’ll call as soon as there’s any news?”

Benny nods. “You know you should see Ofelia,” he says, giving me a dark look.

I swallow hard. “I can’t.” I grip his shoulder, then walk out into the corridor and call Mak from the phone in reception.

To my relief, he answers on the first ring. “I heard,” he greets me tersely. “How’s Lars?”

“Still in surgery.”

“I’ve seen men survive worse.”

I make a noise that could mean anything.