Copper and Salt, page 16
“Who’s Mel?” Oren asked.
Nguyen flashed him a smile, transforming her face as she headed for the door. “My partner. In every sense of the word.”
The room was quiet after Nguyen left, and Oren turned on his side so he could see Alex’s face as Alex did the same. Mihai was silent, but when Oren glanced over, he was watching them, reservation in his eyes.
Oren sighed and sat up again. “Hey, uh… Mihai. We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m—”
“I know who you are,” Mihai interrupted. “You make my brother think he’s in love with you.”
“Mihai!” Alex protested, struggling to sit up. He said something in Romanian, anguish in his voice, and Mihai’s lip curled. He was still staring at Oren as he bit off something in reply and Alex flinched like he’d been hit.
“Hey, whoa,” Oren said, putting out a hand. “Whatever you just said, no more of that. Do you have any idea what Alex went through to get you back?”
Mihai sneered at him. “He’s my brother,” he snarled. “You don’t come between us.”
“I’m not going to come between you or take him from you,” Oren said, keeping his voice even with an effort. “That’s the last thing I want to do.”
“He loves me more,” Mihai spat. “He’ll always love me more.”
“Is not contest!” Alex cut in. “Mihai, I love both. I can love both.” He switched into Romanian again and whatever he said made Mihai flinch and pluck at his blanket with his thin fingers. He replied, sounding chastened, and Alex’s response was softer too.
Oren let go of Alex’s hand, some vague thought of making Mihai feel less threatened driving him, but Alex shot him a challenging look and recaptured it, squeezing fiercely. Oren sighed and squeezed back.
Mihai’s mouth tightened, but Alex said something sharp, and he scowled, crossing his arms.
“You should lie down,” Oren said to Alex, who nodded and repositioned himself.
Mindful of Mihai’s judgmental gaze, Oren lay down with a careful foot of space between them. From the look Alex gave him, it didn’t go unnoticed, but he didn’t comment on it.
“Go to sleep, Mihai,” Alex said, in English for Oren’s benefit.
Mihai muttered something but then there was silence.
Alex scooted an inch closer, and Oren smiled at him.
“Hey,” he whispered.
The shadows behind Alex’s eyes lightened a fraction. “Te iubesc, Oren.”
“I love you too, donkey,” Oren murmured. “Try to sleep, okay? You’re still recovering and you’ve had a very bad day.”
Alex nodded and after a few minutes, his eyelids began to droop. It wasn’t long before he was asleep, as Oren held his hand and drifted to sleep himself.
A nurse came and checked their vitals and Oren dozed through it, only half-aware, knowing only that Alex was still asleep and there was no cause for alarm.
Someone touched his ankle and Oren jerked his head up, startled. Alex stirred and squirmed a little closer, murmuring something in his sleep as he slung an arm over Oren’s waist. Oren looked toward the end of the bed.
A young woman was standing there, smiling at him. Mihai was still asleep in the opposite bed. Oren blinked.
“You’re not a nurse.”
“Nope,” she said, keeping her voice low. “I’m Meera. Friend of Anouk’s.”
Oren sat up straight, a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “What are you doing here?”
Meera winked at him. She was Indian, long black hair in braids pulled up in a messy bun on top of her head, a slim gold ring in her nostril reflecting the light. Her dark eyes were bright and inquisitive, and when she turned her head to check that the door was closed, Oren caught a glimpse of a golden and red dragon tattoo twining up her neck.
“I run one of the highest rated blogs in the city,“ Meera said, turning back to him. “I cover breaking news, social injustice, and celebrity gossip.” Oren stared and she shrugged. “People like it, and it makes enough ratings that I can keep covering stories that mean a lot to me.”
She turned and pulled a chair over to the side of the bed, sitting down and folding her hands in her lap. “Anouk said you’ll give me an exclusive.”
“She did, did she,” Oren said flatly. Alex stirred again, his arm tightening around Oren’s waist as he lifted his head and blinked. Oren could feel the tension that snaked through his body when he caught sight of their guest and he bent over him, gripping his shoulder. “Easy, honey, she’s a friend. I think.”
“What do you want?” Alex asked, his voice low and rough. Mihai stirred at the sound, sitting up abruptly with a choked off gasp. Alex said something soothing and Mihai sat back, watching Meera suspiciously, poised as if to run—IV pole, handcuff, and all.
Meera gave him a reassuring smile over her shoulder and turned back to Oren. “Anouk sent me. I’m here to help you guys.”
“By writing a ‘sensational’ news article about us?” Oren asked.
“By getting your story out there,” Meera said evenly. “Think about it. The more people know about this, the more they talk about it, the more ‘sensationalized’ it is, the better it will be for you when it comes to trial.”
“Court of public opinion,“ Oren said slowly as understanding dawned. “Anouk, you mad genius.”
Alex was looking back and forth between them, his face blank. “Oren, what—”
Oren dropped a kiss on his lips. “I’ll explain later. Do you trust me?”
“Always,” Alex said instantly.
“That’s good,” Oren said, smiling at him. “Can you tell Meera your story?”
Alex’s face clouded and he hesitated, looking at Meera, who smiled at him.
Finally, though, he drew a breath and sat up, facing her. “My name is Alexandru Costea. My brother Mihai and I—”
Oren held him as Alex told his story again and Meera took notes, her pen moving rapidly across the page.
When Alex got to collapsing outside Oren’s house and waking up in his bathroom, Oren patted his hand.
“I’ll take it from here, okay?”
Alex nodded, clearly grateful, and Oren began talking. He took Meera through everything, from fleeing the house to roughing it in the woods to barely making it to the hospital, and then to their marriage.
“You got married because you knew he’d be deported otherwise?” Meera asked.
“That was why I initially suggested it, yeah,” Oren admitted. He took Alex’s hand, feeling the delicate structure of bone and ligament, running a thumb over Alex’s knuckles. “But then I realized that I’d fallen in love with him.”
Mihai cleared his throat, the sudden noise in the quiet room making them all jump, but said nothing.
“That’s good,“ Meera said, writing quickly. “That’s romantic, it’ll be a big hit.“
“I’m not trying to be romantic,” Oren said, nettled. “I’m just telling you how it happened.”
Meera flashed him a distracted smile. “I know, but I have to present this in the best possible light, and this… this will help.”
Oren subsided and Alex squeezed his hand. Mihai glowered from the opposite bed but said nothing.
“If we’re lucky,” Meera said, still writing, “this will go viral. The more people share your story, the better it will be. But don’t talk to anyone but me, okay? Now, what happened at the house?”
“I’m not sure how much I can tell you,“ Oren said. “Considering someone died and all.”
“Good point. Tell me everything up to that, then.”
Oren obeyed, stopping when they were snatched. Alex had drifted back to sleep somewhere during the trip back to Cheyenne. “I don’t think I should give the details of the house just yet,” Oren said, and Meera nodded, swiveling to Mihai.
“And this is the famous brother, huh?”
Mihai crossed his arms, a gesture already beginning to seem familiar to Oren, and said nothing.
Meera’s eyebrows rose a fraction. “Would you like to make a statement?” she prompted.
Mihai shook his head silently.
Oren said nothing, and Meera rose, pocketing her notebook.
“Thanks for your time,” she said in a low voice. “I’ll be in touch.“ She smiled at him and disappeared on soundless feet.
17
Detective Nguyen woke them up the next morning, hands on her hips and an unholy storm in her eyes.
“You talked to the press,” she hissed.
Oren’s eyebrows went up. “In all fairness, you didn’t say not to, Detective. Meera’s… a friend.”
“I didn’t say you could, either!” Nguyen snapped. She blew her bangs off her forehead as Alex turned his face against Oren’s chest and Mihai bristled. Nguyen noticed and took a deep breath. “No more statements to the press. That goes for all three of you.”
“Is the article any good?” Oren asked.
Nguyen tossed her phone in his lap. “See for yourself.”
Today I want to tell you an unconventional love story.
Oren Asher and Alex Costea are very much in love. It shows in the way Oren holds Alex, how he puts himself between Alex and anything that might be a danger. It shows in the way Alex turns instinctively to Oren for comfort and the way they touch each other, gentle and caring.
Alex and Mihai Costea were born to poor parents in the town of Vaslui, Romania. They were inseparable growing up, getting into and out of trouble as a unit. So Alex didn’t even think twice when he learned their parents had sold Mihai into sex slavery to cover their debts. He went after his brother, to rescue him, but he couldn’t get him out alone. So he did the unthinkable. He willingly entered the world of sex trafficking, all so that his brother would not be alone.
Mihai is about seventeen, with brown hair, dark green eyes, and a brittle bravado that hides a wounded soul.
Alex is nearly twenty-two, tall and far too thin, blond haired and brown eyed, and he speaks in a soft, halting accent as he describes how he and Mihai were allegedly ‘broken in’ by Andrei Sokolova, the head of the notorious Russian mob located in downtown Cheyenne.
“Not in our town!” I hear you cry. Believe it, reader—the police confirm that Andrei Sokolova has been “a person of interest” in their investigations for a number of years, but they’ve never been able to get any charges to stick.
Until Alex managed to escape, taking with him a thumb drive containing all of Andrei’s clients—insurance, of a sort, for his plan to return and trade the drive for Mihai once Alex was healed.
Alone, starving, bruised and broken in body but not in spirit, Alex fled Cheyenne, his wild flight leading him to Oren Asher’s doorstep, where he hoped to steal some food before continuing his journey.
Instead, he collapsed outside Oren’s door, where he was found as Oren was taking out some trash.
Oren takes up the tale here as Alex falls silent, pressing his face against Oren’s shirt and closing his eyes.
Oren Asher is a name many of you are perhaps familiar with, considering he’s a prominent local artist in high demand, making amazing creations out of driftwood and found objects. He values his privacy, though, keeping to himself in the house he built outside town.
Oren is short and sturdy, his Hispanic heritage evident in his brown eyes and black hair. He is quick to smile, even with all he’s been through recently, a dimple appearing in his cheek when he does. I have the feeling that he’s only half-aware of me, so focused on Alex is he.
He talks quickly, the faintest of accents shaping the curve of his words, as he tells me about how he took Alex in and cared for him during the snowstorm, tending his injuries and learning his story.
Oren put the phone down without reading more. “Wow.“
“You could say that,” Nguyen snapped, grabbing the phone. “Not another word to the press, you hear me?”
“What’s the reception been?“ Oren asked.
Nguyen hesitated. “Pretty solidly in your favor. People seem to think it’s really goddamn romantic, for some reason.” She gestured and Selene stepped into the room. “Now, it’s time for you to go back to your room.”
Alex clutched Oren’s sleeve. “Oren, no—”
Oren covered his hand. “We talked about this, remember? We knew they’d separate us. I won’t be far, sweetheart.” He glanced up. “Detective, can you—I know you can’t promise anything, but some kind of reassurance would be nice.”
Nguyen took a step forward and Alex met her eyes. “Alex, I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I can tell you this much—you and Mihai will not be sent back to Romania, nor will Oren be extradited to Texas, until a judge reviews the case here. And even if one of those things happens, you’ll see each other again before then. Okay?”
Alex turned back to Oren, tears in his eyes. “Te iubesc, Oren,” he whispered.
“I love you too,” Oren managed, cupping Alex’s face. “I’ll see you really soon, okay?” He looked up to see Mihai watching him, eyes unreadable. “Take care of him,” he said, and Mihai nodded once, sharply.
“So you’re a hero, apparently,” Selene said in the hall.
Oren tilted his head to look at her.
Selene smiled. “Everyone’s talking about the article that dropped this morning. You two falling in love like that, you risking death to help him and trying to save his brother? It’s an incredible story.”
“It’s not a story,” Oren said, hunching his shoulders. “It happened.” He glanced back at her again. “Selene… could you do me a favor? Could you check in on Alex, maybe take him notes that I write to him? He’s not going to take this separation well.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Selene said, the corner of her mouth curving up in a conspiratorial smile.
Alone in his room, with a police officer posted outside his door, Oren picked up the phone and placed a collect call to a number he hadn’t used in years.
“Hello?”
Oren couldn’t help his smile. “Hi, Mom.”
18
He stood before the judge, wearing a suit that didn’t quite fit, hands clasped in front of him, his mother, Alex, and Mihai sitting in the front row of the courtroom behind him. A glance over his shoulder showed Oren that Flora had her arm around Alex, bracing him as they waited for the judge, who was leafing through the papers on his desk.
Finally, he put them down and fixed Oren with a gimlet eye. “This has been one hell of a case, Mr. Acevedo.”
Oren gulped.
Judge Winters continued without waiting for a reply. “The media coverage alone has been ridiculous. Seems like everyone from three states around has an opinion on this. I had the governor of Texas on the phone just last night and I don’t mind telling you, he’s not pleased either.”
Oren said nothing, ducking his head and trying to look contrite.
Judge Winters sighed and ran a hand over his thinning white hair. “Leaving aside you skipping out on your parole, it seems to me that you’ve been a model citizen the entire time you’ve lived in our state. You’ve never been in trouble with the law, you’ve boosted the local economy with your art, and you seem to have reformed your life in many ways.”
Oren glanced at Alex again, sending him an encouraging smile and then facing forward to meet the judge’s eyes.
“As for your husband,” Judge Winters said, “he is in this country illegally, as is his brother. However, there is clearly nothing for them in Romania, and he has indicated—quite strongly, I might add—that he wishes to remain with you. Because they have both cooperated so fully in taking down Andrei Sokolova’s operation, and because I find myself convinced that this really is a love story, however unconventional, I am hereby granting them United States citizenship and acknowledging your and Alexandru’s union officially.”
Oren turned, smiling so widely his face hurt. Alex was smiling too, a hand pressed to his mouth and tears in his eyes as Flora hugged him close. Mihai watched Alex, something almost like a smile on his face, and didn’t move. Oren swiveled to face the judge again.
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Judge Winters said. “There’s still the matter of your parole violation. I am in agreement with the governor of Texas on this, I might add. I’m sentencing you to time served, plus one year in a federal penitentiary.” He brought the gavel down with a sharp crack.
Oren caught his breath and nodded. “Yes sir.”
Judge Winters was watching him closely. “You will be eligible for parole in six months, with good behavior. Something tells me you’ll be home with your family in time for Thanksgiving.”
“I have every intention of it, sir,” Oren said clearly.
“Say goodbye,” the judge said, picking up his papers. “You’re leaving for Texas immediately.”
Oren turned as Alex stood up and Flora handed him his crutches. They met in the middle of the room and Oren pulled Alex close, feeling the tremors shuddering through his thin frame. He could hear camera shutters clicking as the reporters in the room tried to get a good angle, but Oren didn’t care.
He eased away, putting a finger under Alex’s chin and lifting it up until their eyes met. “Hey,” he whispered.
Alex’s lips trembled. “Don’t leave me, Oren.”
“I’m not, baby, I swear,” Oren said, cupping his face. A tear slid down Alex’s cheek and Oren wiped it away with his thumb. “You’re gonna go with my mom and Mihai, okay? She’s going to take really good care of you both, spoil you rotten, tell you embarrassing stories about me when I was a snot-nosed brat. And I’ll call you every week, and write to you every day. Will you write to me?”
Alex nodded, more tears sliding down his cheeks. “Every day,” he said, his voice thick. “Te iubesc, Oren. Please… be safe.”
“I will, sweetheart,” Oren promised, and pulled him down into a kiss.
