Ice Trilogy (40 page)

“Lis-s-s...sten...t-take...meee...they...s-s-stole...” Nikolava’s teeth chattered.

“You got mugged?” He noticed the large bruise between her breasts. “They beat you?”

“They b-b-b-eat the sh-sh-shit outta...m-m-m-e...bas-s-s-tards.”

“Get in.”

She climbed in and sat down. Closed the door.

“Oy, shit...it’s sooo cold...”

The driver took off a light white jacket. He threw it over Nikolaeva’s shoulders.

“So, where to, the police?”

“No way...” She frowned. She wrapped herself in the jacket. Shaking. “I d-d-don’t deal with thos-se j-jerks...take me home. I’ll pay you.”

“Where?”

“Strogino.”

“Strogino...?” he said, in an anxious voice. “I have to get to work.”

“Oy, it’s so cold...” She trembled. “Turn-n-n the heat up...”

He slid the heat up to high.

“Why don’t I take you as far as Leninsky Prospect, and you can catch another ride there.”

“Come on, how am I gonna...again, I mean...oy...damnit...take me home, I’m begging you,” she said, trembling.

“Strogino...that’s completely out of my way.”

“How much do you want?”

“Hey...that’s not the point, luv.”

“That’s always the point. A hundred, one fifty? Two? Let’s go for two hundred. That’s it.”

He thought a minute. Changed gears. The car took off.

“Gotta smoke?”

He offered her a pack of Camels. Nikolaeva took one. He held the lighter for her.

“Why did they...they took your clothes and left you in the woods?”

“Uh-huh.” She took a deep drag.

“All your clothes?”

“As you can see.”

“Wow. That’s hardcore. Shouldn’t you report it?”

“I’ll handle it myself.”

“What do you mean, you know them?”

“Something like that.”

“That’s a different story.”

He was quiet for a while, then asked, “Are you one of those, um, er, ‘butterflies of the Moscow night’?”

“More like...daytime...” She yawned sleepily, exhaling smoke. “A Cabbage White.”

He nodded and grinned.

12:17, Strogino, 25 Katukova Street

The Zhiguli drove up to a sixteen-story apartment building.

“Come with me,” Nikolaeva said, getting out of the car. She walked up to the front door and dialed an apartment number on the intercom: 266.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, Natashka.”

The door beeped. Nikolaeva and the driver entered. They took the elevator to the twelfth floor.

“Wait here.” She handed him his jacket. Rang the doorbell.

Natasha
, sleepy, opened the door: 18 years old, a plump face, black hair cut short, a red terry-cloth robe.

“Give me two hundred rubles.” Nikolaeva walked past the girl into her room. She got the same kind of red robe out of the closet and put it on.

“Jeezus fucking...What’s up?” Natasha followed her.

“Two hundred rubles! To pay the driver.”

“I only have dollars — two one-hundred-dollar bills.”

“Aren’t there any rubles? Do you have any rubles?!” Nikolaeva shouted.

“Hey, no, what are you screaming for...?”

“Or small bills?”

“Two one-hundred dollar bills. What is that, what happened to you?” Natasha noticed the bruise on her chest.

“None of your business. Does Lenka have any?”

“What?”

“Rubles.”

“I don’t know. She’s still asleep.”

Nikolaeva went into another room. Two women were sleeping on the floor.

“What, Sula came over too?” said Nikolaeva looking at them.

“Uh-huh,” said Natasha, looking out from behind her. “They crawled in late last night.”

“Then — fuck ’em...” Nikolaeva said, annoyed.

“So, what’s up?” The driver stood at the open front door.

“Come in,” Nikolaeva said.

He entered. She closed the door behind him.

“Listen, we gotta big problem with rubles. How about I give you a blow job?”

He looked at her, then at Natasha. Natasha grinned. She went back to her room.

“Come on.” Nikolaeva took him by the hand.

“Well, actually, um...” He stared straight at her.

“Come on, come on...in the bathroom. What can I do, we’re flat out of dough, you can see for yourself. And if I wake those bitches up — I’ll never hear the end of their shit...” She tugged at his arm.

“I can go and change money,” he said, stopping.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She turned on the light in the bathroom. Pulled him by the hand. Locked the door. Squatted. Began unbuttoning his pants.

“Uh...how long have you...um?” he said, looking up at the ceiling.

“You ask a lot of questions young man...Oho! We’re quick on the uptake...” She touched his stiffening member through his pants.

She unfastened his belt and unzipped the zipper. She pulled his gray trousers and his black underwear down.

The driver had a small, crooked penis.

She sucked him quickly, grasping his lilac testicles in her hand. She began moving rapidly.

The driver stuck his backside out. He leaned over slightly and rested his hands on the washing machine. He snuffled. His earring swung as he moved.

“Wait...hon...” He put his hand on her head.

“It hurts?” she asked spitting out his penis.

“No...It’s just that...I’ll never come that way...let’s...uh...the normal way...”

“I won’t do it without a condom.”

“But I...I...don’t carry them with me...” He laughed.

“This is not a problem...” She went out and came back with a pack of condoms. She unwrapped one and slipped it on him quickly and deftly. She threw off her robe, turned her backside to him, and set her elbows on the sink.

“Go ahead...”

He entered her quickly, grabbing her with his long arms. He moved back and forth rapidly, wheezing.

“That’s good...oy, good...” she repeated calmly. She examined her bruise in the mirror.

He came.

She winked at him in the mirror.

“You rascal, you!”

She looked at him attentively. Suddenly her lips began to tremble. She covered her mouth with her palm.

He breathed hard through his nose, his eyes closed. He put his head on her shoulder.

She stretched out her arm and closed the drain on the bathtub. She turned on the water, barely able to restrain her sobs.

“Okay. That’s it. I...I...I need to get warm.”

He had a hard time turning her around. He opened his eyes. His penis slipped out of her vagina. The driver looked at it.

“In...in the loo,” she suggested. She grabbed a half bottle of shampoo off a shelf and dumped it in the bathtub. She sobbed out loud.

He glanced at her glumly.

“What’s wrong? You feel bad?”

She shook her head — then grasped his hand. She went down on her knees, pressing his hand to her chest. Her sobs grew stronger, and she squeezed her mouth shut.

“What is it?” he said, looking down at her. “They mistreated you, is that it? How come you’re...”

“No, no, no...” She sniffed. “Wait a sec...wait...”

She pressed his hand to her chest. She wept.

He looked sideways at himself in the mirror. He stood there patiently. The sperm-filled condom hung from his shrinking penis. It swayed in time to her sobs.

It took her a while to calm down.

“It’s...It’s all...so...that’s all...go...”

The driver pulled up his trousers and left.

Nikolaeva got into the bath and sat down. She hugged her knees and rested her head on them.

The sound of flushing water came from the loo.

The driver glanced into the bathroom.

“Is everything all right?” asked Nikolaeva without raising her head.

He nodded. He looked at her curiously.

“If you want, come by again sometime.”

He nodded.

She sat motionless. He wiped his nose.

“What’s your name?”

“Alya.”

“Mine’s Vadim.”

She nodded into her knees.

“Are you...in big trouble?”

“No, no.” She stubbornly shook her head. “It’s just...just...that’s it...bye.”

“Well, bye.”

The driver took off. The front door slammed.

The bath filled with water. It reached Nikolaeva’s armpits. She turned the faucet off and lay down.

“Lord...CON, Con, Con, Con, Con...”

Bubbles fizzled around her tear-stained face.

Nikolaeva dozed off.

Twenty-two minutes later Natasha stuck her head into the bathroom.

“Alya, get up.”

“What?” Nikolaeva opened her eyes, annoyed.

“Parvazik’s here.”

Nikolaeva sat up quickly.

“Fuck! You ratted on me?”

“He just showed up on his own.”

“On his own! You viper! Well, just try and ask me for more sheets!”

“Go to — ”

Natasha slammed the door.

Nikolaeva ran her wet hands over her face. She swayed.

“Oh, shit...What a little cockroach...”

She stood up with difficulty. She took a shower, wrapped her head in a towel, and dried off. She put on a robe and went out into the hallway.

“Have a good soak?” she heard from the kitchen.

Nikolaeva went in.

Two men were sitting there.

Parvaz
: 41 years old, small, black hair, swarthy, unshaven, with small facial features, dressed in a gray silk jacket, black shirt, narrow gray trousers, and boots with buckles.

Pasha
: 33, heavyset, light-haired, pale skin, a meaty face, dressed in a silvery-lilac-colored Puma leisure suit and light blue sneakers.

“Hello there, beautiful,” Parvaz said, lighting a cigarette with a match.

Nikolaeva leaned against the doorjamb.

“I thought you and me, we made an agreement together.” He took a drag on the cigarette. “In, what is it called — good faith? You promised me something. Isn’t that right? You said lots of words. Crossed your heart. Isn’t that right? Or do I have a problem with my memory?”

“Parvazik, I have a problem.”

“What kind of problem?”

“Someone came after me, big-time.”

“And who it was?” Parvaz sent a long stream of smoke pouring out of his small, thin lips.

Nikolaeva opened her robe.

“Here, take a look.”

The men looked at her bruise silently.

“You see, it’s really, I mean...I still haven’t come to...Give me a smoke.”

Parvaz handed her a pack of Dunhills and some matches.

She lit up. She put the cigarettes and the matches on the table.

“So yesterday I did my gig on the pole, and then I went around the club — to rustle up a trick. It wasn’t very crowded. There were two guys sitting there, one of them called me over. So I went, did the belly wave, shook my tits. He says, ‘Sit down, sit for a while.’ I sat. They ordered champagne. We drank and started bullshitting. They were regular johns, they sold some kind of humidifiers or something. One was from the Baltics, gorgeous guy, tall, with a complicated name...Reetus-fetus...I couldn’t remember it, and the other guy, Valera, was fat. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘I’m cold, I’ll go get dressed.’ ‘Yeah, yeah, of course. And come back to us.’ So I put on a dress and went back to their table. ‘What do you want?’ I say, ‘Something to eat.’ They ordered me some grilled sturgeon. ‘You been dancing striptease for a long time?’ they asked. I say — not long. ‘Where are you from?’ ‘Krasnodar.’ Stuff like that. And then the Baltic guy says, ‘Let’s go to my place?’ I said, ‘Three hundred bucks a night.’ ‘No problem.’ So they pay the bill, and split. With me. They had a Volga, a white one, brand new. I got in with them. We drove away from the club, and then one of them —
bam!
— sticks this mask on me with some kinda shit. Right on...like this...right on my face. And that’s it. Then I came to: it was dark, I’m lying on my side, my hands are cuffed in back, it stinks of gas. I’m in the trunk. I’m lying down. There’s some shit near me. The car keeps on driving and driving till it stops. They open the trunk, drag me out. We’re in some woods. It’s already morning. They rip my clothes off and tie me up to a birch tree. They really did! They taped my mouth before that with some kind of bandage...So. And then — then the shit really hit the fan! They had this...this kind of case. And there was a sort of ax in it, like a stone ax. On a crooked stick. Only it wasn’t stone, it was ice. A sort of ice ax. So then, one of these bastards take this ax, swings it back, and
wh-a-a-m
— he whacks me right in the chest! Right here. And the other one says, ‘Tell us everything.’ But, I mean, my mouth was taped shut! I’m groaning, but I can’t talk, can I? And those shits just stand there waiting. Then they did it again: whacked me right on the chest! And they’re still saying, ‘Talk.’ I got all dizzy, it hurt like hell, jeez, damnit. Then they go and do it a third time.
Wham-bam
! And I fainted. Yeah. Then I came to in some kind of hospital. And some guy is screwing me. I tried to resist, but he pulls a knife and holds it to my throat. Right. So he gets his rocks off and starts drinking. I’m lying there — didn’t have the strength to move a finger. And he says, ‘Now you’re gonna live here.’ I say, ‘What the fuck for?’ He says, ‘We’re gonna fuck you.’ I say, ‘You’re gonna have problems, I’m with Parvaz Sloeny.’ And he says, ‘I don’t give a shit about your Parvaz.’ So then he gets drunk fast...and I say, ‘I need to go to the pot.’ He calls some sort of attendant, a strong guy. He took me there. I’m walking down the hall naked, and I see his dick is stiff. I go in the john, and he follows me. ‘Turn around and bend over!’ So I bent over, what else could I do? He screwed me, and split for the hallway. But in the john there was this window, kinda like a double-glazed one. And no bars, that’s the main thing! So I opened the window and crawled out into some woods. I took off for the woods! I ran and ran. Then I realized — it’s Sparrow Hills. I went out on the road and flagged a car, and then — well, Natashka saw me come in. I could find that place again easy, that hospital.”

Parvaz and Pasha looked at each other.

“And you, brother, you always being surprised — how come we come up with losses...” Parvaz stubbed out his cigarette. He laughed. “Ice’s ax — holy shit! Maybe it’s twenty-four-carats gold ax? Huh? Or diamonds? Huh? You made mistake, it wasn’t water ice — it was real ice. Diamond. Diamond’s ax — right on the chest, on the chest. Huh? It’s good. For your healthy. Good for you.”