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Now, Svetlana is not stupid. There are many things she knows.
A Complete, But Not Exhaustive List of Things Svetlana Vetrova Knows:
1) Ilya Rozanov is a raging bisexual (she would never tell anyone this)
2) He’s been hooking up with and texting ‘Jane’ for years (thank you her own observations and the WAG chat)
3) He is half way, if not full way, in love with ‘Jane’ (just her own observations this time)
4) Who ‘Jane’ is (thank you boredom and password privileges)
5) Ilya knows she knows who ‘Jane’ is (of course she knows this, he’d been her best friend since they were children)
6) They never talk about any of the bullet points on this list except for when Ilya gets really drunk and can’t help it (and they never talk about these incidents either)
7) Ilya has been in a shitty mood since that Montreal Game and practically killing his team in practice (Cliff and WAG chat)
8) Ilya had big plans for Jane (she saw the ginger ale in the fridge; Ilya has said on multiple occasions that he would rather die than drink ginger ale)
9) Ilya fucked it up with ‘Jane’ and was now sulking instead of fixing it (conclusion drawn from bullet points 1-8)
10) Svetlana is going to fix this
Honestly, it wasn’t a hard conclusion to come to.
This is her friend and she wants him to be happy. So, if her Ilyushka is going to be too stupid to text Shane Hollander himself, well, Svetlana has ways to make things happen.
She knows how to deal with emotionally constipated Russians.
Even ones as emotionally constipated as Ilya Grigoryevich Rozanov.
#
Step One: WAG chat.
Somehow, the Boston Raiders had learned she and Ilya had a friends with benefits relationship years ago. Svetlana knows Ilya didn’t share that willingly, so her current prime suspect for plying that information out of Ilya with alcohol is Cliff Marlow. No one will actually tell her (they’re all convinced she has mob connections, which is ridiculous. Sveta doesn’t need the Russian mob. She’s more than capable of doing everything they could do for her herself), but they would break one day.
Not today.
But regardless, someone had gotten hold of her number and now she is in the WAG chat. It doesn’t matter how many times she insists she in’t Ilya’s girlfriend, they say she is the closest they can get since their attempts to steal Jane’s number and contact her have resulted in all of them being blocked.
The WAGs had asked Svetlana to reach out to ‘Jane’ once. She had:
Jane
8:38 AM
The WAGs asked me to ask you to join the group chat.
I will tell them you blocked me too.
9:16 PM
Thank you.
But I am blocking you anyway.
👍
She can’t do anything with Hollander’s number. She is sure she is still blocked. It doesn’t matter.
She has a multistage plan and contacting Hollander is not a factor in the slightest.
In fact, it won’t work if she did it through him.
So, WAG chat.
🏒BOSTON WAGs 💛🖤
St Simon’s Wife
god can rozanov chill
i swear victor will be dead if this keeps up
Charmichael’s Girlfriend
I knooooow
Also what are suicides
Svetlana
Do not worry.
I have plan.
Hammersmith’s Wife
We love you, Sveta
Connor’s Fiance
Details!!!
St Simon’s Wife
um seconded!!!!
Svetlana
I need Jackie Pike’s number.
Charmichael’s Girlfriend
Okaaay???
But shes married to a Montreal player???
Svetlana
I know.
But this is Jane related.
I heard she might know Jane.
I need to talk to her.
Ilyushka is being stupid.
He needs to talk to her and will not.
Men.
🙄
Do not worry.
I will fix.
If you get me Jackie Pike’s number.
Connor’s Fiance
Enough said!!!
We’re on it!
🫡
St Simon’s Wife
🫡
Hammersmith’s Wife
🫡
Charmichael’s Girlfriend
🫡
They are good women. Sveta is glad to have someone to bitch to when Ilya is being stupid.
Like now.
But she will fix this. So it doesn’t really matter.
Five minutes later, a text comes in from St Simon’s Wife with a number.
🏒BOSTON WAGs 💛🖤
Svetlana
Thank you.
I will fix this.
Connor’s Fiance
We believe in you and your scary russian ways!!!
Go get Rozy in line!!!!!!
💛🖤
Hammersmith’s Wife
💛🖤
St Simon’s Wife
💛🖤
Charmichael’s Girlfriend
💛🖤
Marlow’s Wife
Oh shit Im late
Oh yeah
Go get Rozy in line!
💛🖤
Svetlana
💛🖤
Good women. All of them.
#
Step Two: Jackie Pike.
Jackie Pike
3:57 PM
Hello? Is this Jackie Pike?
My name is Sally. I’m a friend of Lily’s.
Shane’s Lily. From Boston.
Please, if you do not know who Lily is, ask your husband. He will tell you.
Please, I need your help. For Shane’s sake.
9:02 PM
Sorry for leaving you on read. Had to confirm.
I can’t believe Shane has a girl.
I feel guilty for trying to set him up.
They are not exclusive.
But now they seem to be quasi broken up.
I want to fix that. Get them back together.
And maybe make them official.
I need your help.
What do you need,?
The phone number of Shane’s mother.
Okay. I’m lost.
Can you explain that?
Simple.
I need help keeping Shane in one place. And I need someone who won’t ask too many questions.
Lily and Shane’s relationship could be damaging for Lily’s career. This needs to be secret for now.
So who better than Shane’s mother?
Okay, girl, I got you.
But if you want someone who won’t ask too many questions?
You want Shane’s dad. David. Not Yuna.
I love Yuna, but she is NOSY.
Okay.
Give me David’s number.
And tell him to expect my text?
👍
Tell me how it goes?
I will tell you if it works.
But do not ask Shane. He will share details about Lily when they are ready.
My lips are sealed🤞
#
Step Three: David Hollander.
Sveta doesn’t like loose ends. She doesn’t like how much she was trusting her to keep her mouth shut.
But she is Hollander’s friend, right? She must be. She married Hollander’s best friend. There must be a code here. She does want Hollander happy, right?
Svetlana can’t obsess with this right now. She needs to text David Hollander. Jackie has texted her the number
David Hollander
9:17 PM
Hello?
Is this David Hollander? This is Sally. Jackie should have told you about me.
Yes, hello.
I must say, I haven’t heard anything about my son in a relationship.
If you asked them, neither would say it’s a real relationship.
But I know on Lily’s end the feelings are very real.
I have heard about Shane’s Boston Lily for a while in the grapevine. I believe the feelings have gotten serious for him as well.
I had no idea.
Is secret. They have been secret.
There are reasons. Lily’s career would be ruined if people learned.
So they have never been official.
What do you mean?
And something happened at Shane’s last game in Boston. I think they ended it. Now Lily is miserable and won’t talk to anyone.
Oh, yes.
Lily works for Boston Raiders.
iF she was seen with Montreal’s captain, she could lose all respect of her coworkers at best and her job at worst.
Yikes.
I’m so sorry for Lily.
There is reason she and Shane have been casual and secret for so long.
It cannot be more.
But something happened. And Lily is miserable.
They need to talk.
Will you help?
Yes.
What do you need?
Absolute secrecy. And your discretion.
Can you promise that?
Yes.
Even from your wife?
For Shane? Yes.
Good.
So, Boston has a game in Montreal in a few days.
Could you invite Shane over secretly but take your wife out for a few hours after game time?
I guess.
She can’t know he’s coming?
Yes.
I will need the house cleared for a few hours.
And you to give Shane a special ginger ale I will drop off.
What?
Do not worry. Will not kill him.
Knock him out for an hour, yes, but not kill.
WTF?
Is important.
Both are flight risks.
I cannot risk them running on me. Or refusing to meet.
Make sure Shane drinks in the last half hour of the game and I will manage Lily.
Is this possible?
They love each other?
Yes.
She makes him happy?
Yes
And he her.
Fuck.
This isn’t illegal, right?
Of course not Mr. Hollander.
Alright. I’m in.
Any ideas how to pull this off.
Plenty.
Sveta keeps texting the old man, running idea after idea for him and fine tuning.
They decide to remove Yuna altogether. Sveta pulls on a favor and a lucrative brand deal opens for Hollander, one that will need his mother and manager to leave Ottawa for a few days.
Now, just Mr. Hollander has to leave the house and he is in on the plan.
She is feeling better and better about this all the time.
Now, she just has to get the sedatives.
And honestly, that is the easy part.
#
Step Four: drop off ginger ale.
Sveta pulls her car in to the address Mr. Hollander had texted her. It is a nice, normal house. One she very much believes Shane Hollander has grown up in. As per her request, all the blinds are pulled shut.
She puts the car in park, her very carefully crafted can of ginger ale, meant to tackle the exact body measurements of Shane Hollander that his fans foolishly put online, safely secure in her hand.
Svetlana jumps out of her car and carefully leaves the can on the porch. She races back to her car and begins driving away.
Once she turns a corner, she texts Mr. Hollander.
David Hollander
4:57 PM
Dropped off.
Thanks. Got it.
Shane will be here in a few minutes. You’re away?
Yes.
But he wouldn’t recognize me anyway.
We’ve never met.
Understood.
Good luck with Lily!
Sveta snorts to herself.
Fuck the sedatives. Getting Ilyushka knocked out will actually be the easiest part.
#
Step Five: drug her childhood best friend.
She waits outside the rink, watching hockey players file out like a hawk and waiting for a family head of curls.
She’d followed the match on her phone.
It had been a humiliating defeat, honestly.
Ottawa. Worst team in the fucking league. They should be ashamed to say they played hockey.
There.
“Ilyushka! Over here!” she calls in Russian.
His head perks up and a slightly forced grin spreads across his face. He pushes his way through the crowd and runs to her, crushing her in a hug. Ilya breathes her in like a familiar scent.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, keeping the conversation in Russian.
“I had a day off.” Sveta grins. “Want to see what club scene this shithole city has?”
“Fuck yes,” Ilya groans.
Svetlana jerks her head. Ilya obediently follows her to the car, dropping his hockey gear in the back.
He doesn’t lean in towards her. He doesn’t make to kiss her. He often does when she deliberately meets him after a game.
But with the way his eyes scan the streets carefully, she can guess the path of his thoughts. The way they twist and turn towards a certain boy who grew up on the streets of this city.
She holds in her grin. You are so in love, Ilyushka. Don’t worry. We’ll fix this.
They climb in, Ilya in shotgun. She hands him a flask.
“For you,” she says, the picture of innocence. “For the pregame.”
He downs it in one go.
She tucks the flask away and pulls out of her spot onto the roads.
It takes no time for him to fall asleep.
David Hollander
9:53 PM
I have Lily.
Make yourself scarce.
Shane’s knocked out. Front door is unlocked.
I’m leaving.
Good luck.
I do not need it.
I will bring them to a hotel tonight if it works. I will tell you when you can come back.
Thank you.
Thank you.
#
Step Six: zip ties and ropes.
Ilyushka is heavy.
“Fuck,” she mutters, dragging him through the front door. “The things I do for you, you absolute bastard.”
But she gets him inside, where she can clearly see Hollander dozing on the couch.
Sveta lowers Ilya onto the floor. He can stay there for a few minutes. It isn’t like he is going to remember it.
She drags two chairs to face each other then groans as she looks at the giant hockey players he has to lower onto them.
She groans again and gets to work. It takes far too long and Ilyushka owes her big time. Forever actually. Hollander owes her too, but she’ll accept only one favor since they don’t know each other at all.
With the two hockey players positioned, she digs into her bag.
Zip ties go around their hands, tugging them with a little more, but oddly satisfying, force than necessary to secure the boys’ hands to the back posts on the chairs. She does the same to their legs and the chair legs.
And then rope around their middle, securing them further.
Good, Svetlana thinks, pride overflowing. That will keep them secure for a conversation.
She considers duck tape. Should she have brought duck tape to secure them further?
Sveta sighs. She wants this over. She’ll compromise.
She strides over to the kitchen.
Step Seven: wake the fuckers up.
As promised, Mr. Hollander left two glasses of water in the fridge. Sveta takes them out and marches back to the hallway before promptly throwing them in the boy’s face. One glass worth of ice cold water for each dumbass hockey player.
Hollander groans, starting to wake up, but Ilya jolts to life instantly.
“What the fuck?” he sputters. “Where the fuck is this?” Sveta can see the exact moment his eyes land on the boy across from him. She can see how they soften then truly register who is there and then register the rope and zip ties. “Shane?”
Hollander’s eyes open and a similar process flashes across his face. “Il- Rozanov? The fuck?”
“You’re asking me?” Ilya demands. “Where the fuck are we?”
“My parent’s house,” Hollander replies. Then he sees her. “And who the fuck are you?”
Ilya’s head turns so quickly, Svetlana is surprised he isn’t getting whiplash.
“Sveta?”
“You know her?” Hollander demands.
“Is....” Ilya’s gaze snaps back to Hollander, panicked in a way Sveta isn’t used to associating with him. He quickly looks away again. “Yes.”
He told Hollander we sometimes sleep together, she realizes. Fuck, Ilyushka. What mess is this?
“That’s not a fucking answer, Rozanov,” Hollander replies with an eye roll.
“You want to talk about replies?” Ilya shoots back.
Hollander instantly shuts up.
Step Eight: get them to talk out their issues (God help her).
“Enough,” Sveta insists. She snaps and draws both of their attention back to her. “We are not here to argue. Well, yes, we are, but not unproductively!” She sighs. “Shane Hollander, my name is Svetlana. I am a friend of Ilya’s. It is nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too,” Hollander gritted out, media training in full force.
Yes, he definitely recognizes my name.
“Sveta,” Ilya began to warn, but she waves her hand and he falls silent.
“You are probably asking why you are here,” she begins.
“No, I definitely wasn’t wondering by I’m tied up in my parent’s house with my rival and his fuck buddy,” Shane snarks.
Sveta just grins. “Ilyushka, I like him. Keep him, please?”
Ilya’s eyes remain on the ground when he mutters, “Is not mine to keep.”
Hollander is close enough to hear the words. She sees how his own expression softens, an external show of her own heartbreak at Ilya’s words.
“We will see,” Svetlana declares, a little snappish. “So.... Hollander. Ilya. You have been fucking.”
“What-” Hollander begins.
“I do not care. I am establishing baseline relationship. We are here to discuss what went wrong.” She glares at each of them for good measure. “Here is what I know. You fuck sometimes. It has been going on for long time. You both played shitty game in Boston. Whatever happened, happened shortly before that. Now, Ilya is killing the team at practice. He is upset. Miserable. Obviously, everyone thinks this has to do with the lovely Jane.” She glances at Hollander. “You are upset too. You should have beaten the Admirals. You did not. Maybe even Ottawa could beat you right now. So,” Svetlana claps her hands together, “we are going to talk.” She gestures between the two of them. “We will fix this or get closure. Your mother is not home. Your father will stay out as long as I want. We can take all night if need. Do you understand?”
Neither answer.
“Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sveta.”
“Yes.”
“Good. Who wants to start?”
The boys look at each other, some silent communication happened.
“We met day before game,” Ilya began, a careful monotone. “Hollander came over. We fucked. We cuddled. I asked him to stay. He said yes. We ate food. Talked. I answered call. Then more sex. Hollander left soon after.” He shrugged as best he could in the ropes. “Not complicated.”
“Leaving out some details,” Hollander murmured, glaring.
Ilya glared right back.
“Elaborate?” Sveta asked.
“We never stay,” Hollander explained, not bothering to look at Svetlana and instead opting to glare at Ilya indefinitely. “Or cuddle. Or make food. Or say someone’s first name during sex.”
“You said it too,” Ilyushka snapped.
“You acted like we were a couple,” Hollander snapped back. “And we’re not. We fuck and leave, right? It’s supposed to be simple. Remember? Or do you not remember Vegas?”
Ilya’s expression darked. “Two years ago.” And again, softer, “Two years ago. Things....”
“Change?” Hollander suggests. “Didn’t fucking tell me.”
“Okay,” Svetlana interjects. “This is good. Let’s start here, yes? Hollander. How do you feel about the current arrangement? Before last week?”
“It’s fine,” he admits. “Good. It’s simple. It worked.”
“And after?”
“I don’t know. How would you feel if the guy who’s been treating you like a casual hookup for six years treats it like a date and starts talking about all the girls he fucks?”
Svetlana whips around to face Ilya, who (at the very least) has the decency to look ashamed. “You fucking idiot,” she hisses. “We will return to this.” She turns to Hollander. “If that fucking idiot,” She gestures to Ilya then senses the glare he’s shooting her way and flips him off without looking, “were to ask you to turn your meetings into a proper date, what would you say?”
“We can’t.”
“Pfft. Ignore that. Ignore logistics. I can see you thinking, stop it. Tell me. If Ilya Rozanov wanted more than a casual fuck, wanted a relationship, what would you say?”
“I’d think about it.”
Sveta rolls her eyes. “Fine. Think about it. We’ll get back to you.” She turns to Ilya again with a vicious grin. She can see him shrinking into his chair. “You will be vulnerable now, understand?” He nods. “Good. Now. What the fuck were you thinking telling him about the girls? Do not even dare lying to me.”
“I wanted to know if he liked girls,” Ilyushka says, slightly sheepishly. “If he liked both. Like me.”
Sveta slaps her forehead. “Idiot.”
“That’s what you were asking?” Hollander demands. “The fuck? How was I supposed to get that?”
“Implied,” Ilya mumbles.
“Hollander, can we answer it?” Sveta asks before Hollander can break through her zip ties. “Do you like girls?”
“...uh. Yeah.”
She rolls her eyes. “Let me ask differently. If I were to kiss you right now, would you like it?”
“Sveta!”
“I mean... I don’t know. Probably.”
“Fuck off Ilyushka, you don’t get a say right now. And Hollander, if Ilya were to kiss you right now, would you like it?”
“Yes.”
“Sveta!”
“Again Ilyushka,” She rolls her eyes, “be silent. And Hollander,” she says, keeping her tone gentle, “you hesitated. People who like women don’t hesitate when I am involved.”
Hollander’s eyes widen.
Fuck.
She watches the panic attack form. Hollander’s breathing becomes intense, ragged, in a fraction of a second. His jaw clenches, body completely stiffens.
Sveta is at his side in an instant. She kneels and puts a hand on his shoulder. Comforting. There.
Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Ilya leaning as far forward as the zip ties and ropes allow him, and can see how his face contorts and how longing overtakes every line. She can see his eyes land on her and a spark of jealous kindles.
He wants to be there. She hasn’t allowed him the option.
And she has to ignore him for now. There is someone else who needs her help more.
She squeezes Hollander’s shoulder. “Hey,” she mutters, tone still soft. “There is nothing wrong with you, okay? Nothing. I have heard horror stories of Montreal’s locker room and they can all fuck. Off. They are wrong. And you are not alone and you are so fucking loved, okay? Your father was willing to drug you so you could find love. That is commitment. He loves you and will support you. I promise. And so will we.” She gestures to herself and Ilya. “You think we will go away? No Hollander. You are stuck with two raging Russian bisexuals, okay? I need someone else to complain to about that one.” She nods her head towards Ilyushka, who only rolls his eyes. “You cannot get rid of me. That is threat. We will make sure he never knows peace, okay?”
“Sveta! Betrayal!”
She flips him off again.
Hollander laughs a little. “Okay. Thanks.... I... You’re bi?”
She winks. “Guys and girls love me.” She looks over him. “Not you though. Too gay.”
He gives a small laugh at that. “I... I might be. But what was that about my dad?”
“He loves you,” Sveta confirms. “Loves you enough to give you a spiked ginger ale.”
“I didn’t taste any alcohol.”
“No, spiked with sedative.” She makes a face. “Fans post too much online. Bad for privacy. Good for knockout drug formulas.”
Hollander laughs again. “You really shouldn’t drug people.”
Sveta rolls her eyes. “Yes. I should. Otherwise we would not be here having such a productive conversation. You would panic your way into a bad straight relationship and then the WAGs would blow up my phone more about Ilyushka’s horrible training practices.”
“You’re in the WAG chat?” Hollander and Ilya ask at the same time.
They glance at each other but quickly look away.
She nods. “I am closest thing their captain has to a WAG.” She grins. “Not for long.” She turns to Ilya. “Your turn.”
He groans. “You hate me.”
“No, I love you enough to do this. So, Ilyushka, when you invited Hollander-”
“Shane.”
She turns to Hollander. “What?”
“Just call me Shane, if you’re going to be such a presence in my life now.”
She nods. “Okay. Ilyushka, when you invited Shane to stay-”
“Oh, she gets to call you Shane?” Ilya demands. “You barely know her!”
“Well, do I know you?” Shane challenges. “Actually? Do I know you?”
“I thought you did,” Ilya admits, staring into Shane’s eyes.
Sveta just stands and carefully backs up a few steps.
“I thought so too,” Shane admits. “But then you changed everything and I thought I knew what you want and then I don’t and it all gets too real and yeah, I want that, but how am I supposed to know if you-”
“Fucking hell, Hollander!” Ilya explodes. “Of course I fucking want it too! Was it not obvious?”
“No, it really fucking wasn’t.” Shane looks him dead in the eye. “Vegas.”
“Two years ago,” Ilya mutters.
“With no change. I don’t.... You didn’t tell me, you just sprung it on me and expected me to not freak out.”
“It was that bad?”
Ilyushka looks like a kicked puppy. Svetlana fights the urge to fill him and use it as blackmail for all time.
“No, just.... I was overwhelmed. I didn’t want to believe you wanted more too. Because where does that leave us?”
“Broken,” Ilya mutters.
Shane nods.
Sveta hears the implication. Wanting more but never able to have it, so breaking their hearts every single time. Because the league. Because Russia. Because Montreal. Because Boston. Because the world.
“Fuck that,” she declares. “And fuck both of you for giving up. You want a relationship, a real one, yes?”
She turns to Shane, who nods, then to Ilya, who says, “Yes.”
“Fine. Then do that. Be exclusive. Be boyfriends, in secret until you’re ready or Ilyushka gets citizenship in Canada, but fucking try.”
“We can’t,” Ilya tells her.
She glares. Fine. Big guns. He’s asking for it. “You are not letting yourself be happy, Ilyushka. What would your mother say?” It strikes exactly where it’s meant to, as it’s meant to. An atomic bomb at the center of his heart. “She would want this for you. The voices that say you shouldn’t, you don’t deserve it, it’s too risky, that is your father and Alexei. Do not let them win. Do it. Be happy. For her.” She gives him a look. “Well?”
He nods. “Okay, Svetlana. I will try.” Ilya Rozanov brings his gaze back to Shane’s. “I will. If you want to.”
It’s like Christmas came early for Shane. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“You know this will be hard, right?”
“Yes.”
“And it could end-”
“Shut the fuck up, Hollander. I know.”
“Shane.”
“What?”
Shane grins slyly.
Oh, fuck. They’re flirting.
Svetlana looks for an escape. She finds none.
“Call me Shane, Ilya.”
Ilya smirks back. “Will you run away, Hollander?”
Shane makes a show of looking at the ropes and zip ties. “Not sure I even can, Rozanov.”
“But would you?” Ilya asks, too vulnerable for flirting. “If you could.”
“No,” Shane promises, the softness on his face matching Ilya’s. “I wouldn’t. Not again. Never again.”
“Okay, Shane,” Ilya says. “We’re... We’ll try.”
“Put a name it or I’m stealing your good vodka, Ilyushka,” Sveta warns him.
“Evil, evil woman.” He turns to Shane. “Do you see what I have to put up with?”
Shane shrugs. “I dunno. Can you take his cigarettes too?”
“Shane.”
Sveta gives him a double thumbs up. “Sure!”
“Thanks, Svetlana.”
“Sveta,” she corrects.
“I hate both of you,” Ilya mutters, glaring. “My boyfriend, my completely and utterly exclusive boyfriend, most of all.”
Shane smiles widely like it’s the best day of his life (and Sveta wouldn’t bet against it). “I’ll still have her steal your cigarettes. You are going to get cancer, Ilya. And die at twenty-five.”
“I am twenty-five!”
“My point. You’ll die from me. Because I killed you for getting your bullshit second hand smoke in my lungs.”
“Fuck you.”
“No, it’s ‘fuck me please, Shane, oh my god I’m such an asshole but I-’”
“Okay, enough!” Svetlana interjects. “I will cut you both free now then take you to a hotel room, yes? Fuck like bunnies there please? Once I’ve left?” She glares at Shane. “And save relationship logistics until the morning.”
Shane nods.
“I like this plan,” Ilya declares.
“You’re getting cut free last.”
“Can I have the ropes?”
She rolls her eyes and cuts Shane’s zip ties off and undid the rope knot. She cut Ilya out next and had Shane take the zip ties to the trash while she and Ilya moved the chairs.
“I am proud of you, Ilyushka,” she murmurs to him.
“Me too. I am proud of me too.”
“You deserve to be happy,” she reminds him because she knows he forgets. Often.
“I think I will be.” She gives him a look. “Okay, fine, I will be.” His gaze goes to Shane as he reenters the room, face instantly softening. He looks younger, more carefree, in an instant. “I am really happy with him.”
“Good.” She claps his back. “I put in too much work for you to only put up with him.”
“I love him,” Ilya corrects. “You are a good friend, Sveta. Thank you.”
“Anytime, jackass.”
“What are you talking about?” Shane asks.
“Ilya was singing my praises as the best friend in the universe.” She smirks. “No one compares to me. I am God. I got emotionally repressed hockey players to talk through their issues.”
“Contact Guinness,” Shane quips. He walks over to Ilya and slides his hand into Ilya’s. Ilya freezes, like a startled deer. Shane begins to pull away, but Ilya laces their fingers together, forming a death grip on Shane’s hand. “This okay?” Shane asks, somehow still unsure.
“Yes,” Ilya insists. “Do not let go.”
“Okay.” Shane grins. “But I call shotgun.”
Ilya groans. “You suck, Hollander.”
Shane presses a kiss to Ilya’s cheek. “Later, okay?” Sveta makes an overexaggerated gagging noise. “Your lovely friends Sveta wants us to fuck like bunnies elsewhere.”
Ilyushka blushes and Sveta hollers with laughter. “I am keeping you,” she declares. “Car now, before Ilyushka defiles your parents’ home.”
Shane makes a face and they all begin to walk. “Ew, gross.”
“You will say differently later, hmm, Shane.”
Shane ignores him. Sveta is sure she’s never seen Ilya this turned on. “So, Sveta, what’s up with Ilyushka?”
“Sveta, no,” Ilya begs.
Like she’s going to listen to him. “Russian nickname.”
Shane nods. “Good to know.”
“Sveta!”
“Oh, hush, Ilyushka,” Shane says dismissively.
Ilya turns to her. “How fast is speed limit?”
“About 50 km/hr. Less in some places.”
“Fuck.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s the plan,” Shane murmurs.
Sveta slides into her car, the boys sliding into the backseat, unwilling to let go of the other’s hand. Not even for shotgun.
Step Nine: get them to the hotel (without having sex in the backseat).
“One second,” she tells them.
David Hollander
11:14 PM
Success. Leaving.
And then buckles in and starts the car. In her review mirror, she sees Ilya buckled in at the middle seat, pressing his side against Shane and head resting on Shane’s shoulder.
“You two are sweet,” she starts, hoping conversation will keep the backseat PG. “How did you meet?”
“He came up and introduced himself at world juniors,” Ilya said with a shrug. “Shook my hand twice.”
“You were outside and smoking.”
“I knew you thought I was hot!”
“I meant with a cigarette, asshole. And Sveta, how did you learn about me?”
“I got bored and Ilyushka’s had the same password since 2010,” she explains, seeing Ilya’s face pale. Oh yeah, she’s absolutely saying it. “1410.”
“What?!?”
“Sveta, whyyyyy?”
“Revenge, Ilyushka. For all your bullshit. And yes. You recognize the number?”
“I am changing my password,” Ilya glares at her.
“Yes. To the other one you use. 1221. You have two passwords. You are not creative, Ilyushka.”
“1221? 1410? Are you fucking serious, Rozanov?” Shane demands.
Ilya shrugs. “Good numbers.”
“What’s the story?” Sveta asks.
“First and second hotel rooms we hooked up in.”
Sveta laughs. “Sap. How did you two even happen?”
“Shane, no, if you care for me, do not, she does not need more blackmail-”
Shane claps his hand on Ilya’s mouth. Ilya licks him, but Shane does not remove his hand. He just smirks, exactly where he wants to be.
“So, it all started when this asshole,” He nods his head at Ilyushka, who is still licking Shane’s hand, “arranged to be in the same photoshoot with me....”
There is a lot of blackmail and swearing and laughter. Ilyushka protests vehemently and tries to shut Shane up a few times with kisses, but he grins the entire time.
Svetlana ends up pulling in at the back. She hands the keycards back to them. “Room 234. Pick who goes first. Next goes ten minutes later. Yes?”
“Yes, captain,” Ilya grumbles. “Anyone you need to threaten?”
“Ilyushka?”
“Yes?”
“Leave.”
Ilya kisses Shane on the cheek. “See you soon?” he mutters.
Shane blushes. “Ten minutes.”
Ilya grins, squeezes Shane’s hand one more time, and gets out of the car.
So Svetlana is left with Shane. Who is there, in the back of the car, shoulders slumping and face looking like he’s spiraling.
“Are you alright?” she asks.
“I....” He sighs. “I don’t know.”
“For what it is worth, I have never known Ilyushka to settle down. Or commit to a person. You are special to him. He won’t say it. I doubt you will say it either, but I can see you feel same about him. Do not overthink if you can. Be there for him. Let him be there for you. Talk to each other honestly. You will be fine. You can do that, right?”
“I....” Shane thinks about it and Sveta can see his confidence grow. “Yeah, I think I can.”
She turns and smiles at him. She hands him a slip of paper. “My number. If you can’t, come to me and I will yell at both of you for being stupid. Then fix your relationship. Because I am awesome.”
“Yes, Sveta.” He pockets the number. “You are.”
“Oh, just go get your man already.”
Shane laughs. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”
“Yes, Shane, I know you are gay. Leave already.”
He smiles and slips out of the car.
Don't fuck this up boys.
Step Ten: wrap up loose ends.
Jackie Pike
11:56 PM
It worked.
Goodnight.
David Hollander
11:57 PM
They are dropped off.
Shane will return in the morning.
Goodnight.
She is about to leave it at that when Mr. Hollander’s reply comes through.
David Hollander
Thank you.
Can I meet you?
I want to thank you in person.
Sveta stares at the text.
David Hollander
I did this for Lily. Not for Shane.
I know.
I still would like to thank you.
Can we meet?
She keeps staring, hands frozen over the keyboard.
David Hollander
Well?
The word taunts her. Beckons towards something she doesn’t think she understands. And she doesn't understand what possesses her as she types and sends:
David Hollander
Fine.
I will be at your house as soon as I can.
👍
#
Step Eleven: go completely off the plan and interact with someone that isn’t Shane or Ilya.
Sveta sits in her car outside the Hollander house, eyes fixated on the light shining through the living room windows.
There’s something that calls to her in there, and she can’t quite tell what. She hits her head on the steering wheel and exits the car.
This is a bad idea, she knows it’s the worst idea she’s ever had, but she can’t help sealing her fate.
She walks to the porch and knocks.
“It’s open,” a voice calls.
Svetlana takes a deep breath and steps inside.
She closes the door behind her and turns to see David Hollander, waiting for her in the living room.
“Hello,” he says, open, warm, friendly.
“Hello,” she replies and almost winces.
Sally. She’d told him her name was Sally.
Her accent gave her away.
She waits for his eyes to narrow, for him to kick her out of the house.
He keeps smiling.
“Your name isn’t Sally, is it?”
Kind, he is so kind, still. When he knows she’s been lying to him.
“No, Mr. Hollander,” Sveta opts to say.
“What’s your real one?”
“I....” He watches her so openly, expectantly. Like he trusts her completely. Sveta doesn’t know what to do with that. “Svetlana. I’m Svetlana.”
“It’s nice to officially meet you, Svetlana.” He gestures to a chair. “Sit, please. And call me David.”
She does as he asks.
“They’re together now?” he asks. “Shane and... Lily?”
She nods. “Yes. They are.” Sveta wonders if she should leave it there, but.... There’s something here, something that makes her add, “You should know. There are... other reasons why Shane and... Lily keep their relationship secret. Their relationship has consequences with Lily’s family and her community. They would....” Sveta shakes her head. “Please trust me when I say it wouldn’t be good. Lily and Shane hide for a reason. They will tell you when they are ready, but that may not be for a very long time.”
“I think I understand,” Mr. Hollander says. “If… if you want, tell Shane and.... Lily that they will always be safe in this household. With us. With our family.” He looks at her. Sveta wonders if he’s literally staring into her soul. “You too.”
She shakes her head. “I do not need it.”
Mr. Hollander just smiles kindly. “I think you do. You will always be welcome here, Svetlana, for what you did for our boy.”
“I did not do it for him. I did it for Lily.”
“I know, but you still saw two young people who were suffering and said, let me fix this.” His smile broadens. “You made a plan, you executed it well, and even if you didn’t do it for Shane, you still saw he needed it too. That counts for something here.” He laughs to himself. “I think you and Yuna would get along very well.”
“Maybe.”
“She loves plans. Momager for a reason.” His smile goes very soft at the thought of his wife. Sveta isn’t really used to this. To parents who cared. “I think, Svetlana, you have a place as a Hollander.”
“I am no one. Just Lily’s friend, Mr. Hollander.”
“David, please. After everything you did for Shane, please call me David. And you’re not no one anymore, Svetlana. You’re a Hollander, whether you like it or not.”
And Sveta wonders if yes, maybe she would.
Maybe there’s a place here for her.
She never had as horrible a father as Ilyushka, but her father wasn’t there. Neither was her mother. Everything she’s built for herself, she’s practically built on her own.
So maybe, this boring Canadian house has a spot for her.
She can see it. Dinners. David, Yuna, Shane, Ilya, all around her. Laughing and making fun of each other and debating hockey.
She can see it.
It looks like something she might like.