12
I’m sitting on the lawn with Johanna. We’re each holding a book and enjoying the pleasant afternoon breeze. I haven’t let my brain rest all day long. I look through book after book, concentrating painfully on my studies and making up some I missed. Whenever I have a minute to think, the events of last night come back and I’m flooded with strong emotions: helplessness, fear and shock from meeting the French group, and, on the other hand, that strange desire my body felt at Scarface’s touch. Of all the jobs in the world, I had to walk into the one place that symbolizes for me absolute evil, and still I have no doubt I’ll go back there tonight. A honey trap, I think in frustration. I have a deadline for the first tuition payment, and right now there’s no other way for me to meet it. I spent the last hour in the library, sending my CV to all the research labs in town and now I can only pray that someone will get back to me and offer me a lifeline.
Once in a while Johanna raises her head and tells me all about her date last night. “He is clever, funny and witty,” she giggles, “but he is very boring in bed.”
“You went to bed with him already?” I ask surprised.
“I was considering a serious relationship with him,” she explains, “shouldn’t I find out his sexual abilities in the beginning already?”
“That makes sense,” I mutter and try to push away those strong sensual feelings that I felt by no more than the touch of Scarface’s finger last night.
“I saved myself some time. Now I can look for a new partner,” she sums it up, and goes back to her book. “And what about you?” she asks after two minutes of silence. “How is the project going? How is the new job? Have you got someone for me to meet there?”
I mark my page in the book, close it, put it back in my backpack and lie down on the grass. “The project is going very well, work is harder than I expected, and the last thing I’d do is set you up with someone from work.” I feel sick at the thought that she might find out what kind of people come to my workplace.
“That's a shame,” she says and lies down next to me. “Maybe we'll go out for drinks tonight?”
“I have to work.” I yawn and get up. “I’m so tired.”
“Want me to come and keep you company?” she asks wishfully. “I am bored at home alone.”
“No.” I yawn again. “I’ll be too busy. And I have to summarize the material I found for Professor Sawyer’s research during my breaks. I have another meeting with him tomorrow morning.”
“That's a shame.” She wrinkles her nose in disappointment and goes back to her book.
I wish I could stay and enjoy the company of this sweet soul, but reality is calling. With no desire, I leave campus for another evening of filth.
****
The bar is quiet. Even Charlie hasn’t arrived yet and the round table is empty. I was nervous about seeing Scarface tonight, and relieved when I realize that he’s not around. I clean the tables quickly, arrange the napkins, polish the wine glasses and put the chairs in their places. When the bar looks ready for customers, I take out my laptop and my books and sit down on a barstool. I have a whole hour to summarize the material for my meeting tomorrow, and I intend to make use of every minute of it.
I photograph page after page in my head and quickly type my conclusions. The more I type, the more I smile. I’m sure that I’ve managed to find some fascinating matters that would be an excellent basis for our research. The word “our” echoes in my head proudly, and I continue typing energetically.
“Elena, the customers are waiting for you,” I hear Charlie’s loud voice and raise a finger to quieten him. I’m not ready to leave the wonderful world that surrounds me. I think he calls me a few more times, but my fingers have a life of their own as they race across the keyboard and refuse to stop.
The screen of my laptop closes in front of me and I raise my head angrily toward the insolent hand on my right.
“Charlie can’t keep doing your work,” Scarface says sharply and I blink as if I'm awakening from a wonderful dream. When I turn my head and see the amount of people crowding the room, my dream vanishes and the nightmare begins. I jump off the stool and run around the tables, serving customers and ignoring the sarcastic comments of the working girls, who apparently haven't forgiven me for the slip of my tongue. I wait for the moment I can return to my computer and write my final sentences. I was so close, I fume to myself as I make my rounds between the tables. My body is here at the bar, but my head is definitely in the artificial light and its implications on the human race. Light pollution, what a fascinating subject. And there’s not one quiet moment tonight. The twins go upstairs with a customer and the blonde comes down to sit with another, this continues all night. My eyes are heavy, my legs are tired, but I’m determined to finish this night and go back to the stars.
The last customer leaves. The girls sit around a few tables, the managers sit at the round table and I serve the last drink.
Finally. I sit on the barstool, open up my laptop and let out a yell. The room falls silent and when I glance to my right, I see the three partners standing with their pistols drawn.
“I didn’t save it!” I cry hysterically, clicking on files to find my final paper. “I didn’t save that whole summary I wrote.” I stare at the screen with dread.
Charlie brings me a glass of water. It looks like he’s the only one here trying to console me. The girls go back to chatting and the partners sit back down and talk quietly. I look at the clock. It’s quarter to six. In exactly two hours and fifteen minutes, I have to go into Professor Sawyer’s office and give him my summary. And all I have is a blank white page.
“Did you sort it out?” Scarface is standing behind me, leaning over my shoulder and looking at the screen. He smells of cologne mixed with cigarette smoke and liquor, and for just one minute I realize that this is the sexiest smell I’ve ever inhaled. But the panic returns and takes over.
“It’s your fault!” I turn around, forcing him away from me. “If you weren’t so insensitive, you wouldn’t have closed the screen before I could save the file.”
“You’re not in the library,” he replies dryly. “Finish up your school before you get to work.” He emphasizes the last word and I’m about to explode.
“I’m on campus from morning until evening and I come straight here. I’ve been surviving on three hours of sleep for days. I just wanted to finish my summary. Why do you have to be so insensitive?” I feel tears threatening and I turn my back on him. Just a minute. Me? Cry? Because of a summary I could write in my sleep? What the hell is up with me?
“No one’s forcing you to work here,” he continues coldly. “And no one’s forcing you to study. Just make a choice.”
“Idiot,” I hiss and pull my hair back tighter.
He turns my barstool around and smiles. “Come on, I’ll take you home and you can get some sleep. You’ll feel better after that.”
“I have to hand in this summary in exactly two hours.” I close my eyes and pull myself together. “And I will.” I state emphatically. I turn the barstool back around and open the first book. “Don’t disturb me now,” I say with venom and look through some papers quickly, filing the information in the imaginary library inside my head and start typing furiously.
“Done!” I cry happily and save the document once again. “I’m done.” I turn my head and see that the place is empty except for Scarface, who is sitting at the round table, smoking and staring at me. “Were you waiting for me?” I ask embarrassed and peek at the clock on the wall. I have exactly fifteen minutes to get to campus.
“It’s really something watching you type.” He smiles and puts his cigarette out. “I had no idea that a person could have so many facial expressions.” He stands up and stretches his neck. “Come on, I’ll take you.” He starts toward the door and I gather my things quickly.
“You don’t understand,” I say, my face glowing as he hands me the helmet. “This is the most exciting project I’ve ever worked on in my life.” I continue to talk rapidly, feeling a need to share the great love of my life with this strange creature. “Did you know that LED lights, those economical lights…” I stop for a minute and wait for him to nod, “actually emit light at a rate that could double the artificial light problem?”
“No,” he answers shortly and stifles a smile.
“And did you know that according to world calculations, eighty-eight percent of human beings live in areas that are affected by light pollution?”
“No,” he lets out a short laugh, but I am in my element and I carry on.
“And did you know…”
“Elena,” he cuts me off. “I know one thing – you have less than fifteen minutes to get to the university. Do you want to keep chatting or get going?”
The smile that was plastered on my face immediately disappears. “Get going,” I answer nervously and sit down.
Traffic is crazy, but luckily it doesn’t affect me. The black motorcycle maneuvers between the cars easily and ten minutes later we stop at the entrance of the campus. I jump off and give Scarface the helmet.
“I can’t stand you, usually.” I smile at him and he raises an eyebrow in amusement. “But right now, I want to hug you.” I lean forward, kiss his scarred cheek and run quickly toward the green lawns.
I stop in the waiting room outside the professor’s office and put my hair in a ponytail. I am so tired I assume my eyes are red and I look exhausted as someone who worked through the night. I knock once and enter. I’m first! Professor Sawyer is sitting at his large desk and raises his head. Suddenly, I no longer feel tired or the remains of frustration from the all-nighter. A rush of adrenaline runs through me. “I’ve discovered some amazing things,” I say excitedly and take my laptop out of my bag. “I didn’t have time to print it, but if you could…”
“Come here,” he stands up and gestures to me to sit down in his chair. I do as he says and he stands behind me. I open up my document and start reading it out loud. After I’ve read only two lines he squeezes my shoulder and asks me to stop, then leans forward and reads it himself. Unlike my boss’s strong and smoky smell, the professor’s smell is subtle, fresh and clean, as if he’s just stepped out of the shower. For a minute I feel uncomfortable because of the smell that must be clinging to me from the club, but the professor continues leaning over me, so close to me and concentrating on the summary I wrote for him.
“That’s great,” He says finally and stands up straight. “I’d like you to find some more supportive data for some of the issues that you’ve raised here, but it’s definitely a good starting point.” I put my hand over my mouth in excitement. I’m thrilled by his reaction, yet I must stay calm. “I’ll email you a list of additional sources, and you can start building the basis of the research.” He smiles at me through his clipped, neat goatee, and I imagine myself sitting beside him at a riverside café, having a conversation that will make me quiver with its intensity. He’s so young. He’s always buttoned up and tidy. He always has a bashful smile on his face. And he’s so smart… definitely a man that could rock my world. I blush as my intimate thoughts are abruptly cut off when the other two students enter the room.
“Are we late?” they ask nervously.
“I was early,” I say proudly, and I stand up. “I’m looking forward to receiving your email,” I say as I gather my belongings.
“Elena.” The professor stops me just before I leave. “I’ll be leaving for a convention on ‘Light Pollution’ in San Francisco soon. I have funding for a research assistant as well.” He falls silent and I hold my breath. “I wondered if you'd like to join me.”
If I hadn’t glanced at my two partners on this project and seen their disappointment, I might have broken out singing and dancing. But they are here, and I have to stay serious.
“I’d love to, Professor Sawyer,” I say with a small smile.
“Great,” he answers and sits back down in his chair.
I leave the room, put my bag down on the floor and let myself go with a victory dance, jumping up and down, flinging my arms around.
During one of our breaks, I share the exciting news with Johanna. She doesn’t display any enthusiasm; she just continues playing with her golden hair.
“Aren’t you happy for me?” I ask disappointed.
“I am very happy.” She lies down on the grass and I sit next to her. “But I am a little tired of my life. I have reached the understanding that I am just bored.”
I look at her surprised. “How can you be bored? When we’re here in this university, studying the most interesting things in the world.”
“Easily,” she answers, fuming. “You were accepted into this project and I wasn't. You have a secret job and I don't. You're going to go to an interesting convention with a sexy professor and I am not.”
“I would gladly give up the job,” I mumble to myself. “You have all the time in the world to study and I don’t. You have a social life and I don’t. You have financial security and I don’t. I have the threat of dropping out hanging over me.” I answer frustrated. “I’d change places with you right now in a heartbeat.”
“And miss out on the convention?” she asks suspiciously.
“OK, not that,” I laugh and realize that this is a moment of pure happiness. No prostitutes, no strippers, no perverted Frenchmen, no boss to keep me off-balance. Just pure pleasure from knowing that I can look forward to an exciting and thrilling experience.
We return to the lecture hall, and during our last lecture I find it hard to keep my eyes open and my yawns become audible.
“You should go to sleep,” Johanna whispers and giggles when I yawn again.
“I have to go to work,” I answer and blink my eyes rapidly.
“You'll collapse,” she says, and I breathe a sigh of relief when the professor dismisses the class.
I wobble toward the campus exit, barely able to raise my hand to hail a cab and as soon as I give the driver the address, I close my eyes.
“Ma’am, we’re here,” he says loudly and I can hardly open my eyes. I’ve never been this tired in my life.
I pass the bouncer at the entrance and go inside. I don’t even have time to wash my face. Two girls are already sitting with customers. I take their order and walk to the bar.
“Need a few bucks to buy a new shirt?” the brunette asks nastily and turns to the staircase.
Shit. I only now realize that I haven’t been home to shower and change. The black shirt and blue jeans that I’ve been wearing since yesterday have the smell to prove it. I serve the other customers from a safe distance, running from table to table and I notice that the round table is empty. The partners aren’t here. I pause longer each time at the bar. My eyes are burning, my legs are heavy and my arms are trembling as it becomes hard for me to hold the drinks without spilling them.
The last customer follows the blonde upstairs and I run a cloth over the table and feel my legs giving way. I glance to the right and to the left; the room is empty. I pull back a chair and sit down, lay my head on the table and close my eyes.
“You’re new,” I hear a masculine voice panting a little from other side of the table and look up in panic. I am so tired that the movement makes my head spin.
“I’m not…”
“Let him finish.” I hear the order and raise my head. The brunette is standing there, smiling at me maliciously. I want to disobey her and stand up but she moves behind me, lays her hand on my shoulder and leans down to whisper in my ear. “Help him come, otherwise he’ll go crazy.”
I look back at the mustached man sitting across from me. Shit.
“I like new girls,” he pants, his arm is going up and down under the table. New girls excite me,” he pants heavily again, and I can feel my dizziness descending to my stomach. “Tell me something,” his arm is still moving vigorously. “Whatever you want, just talk.”
“Talk?” I ask and put my hand over my mouth, fighting a gag reflex.
“Yeah, yeah, just like that,” he puffs, his skin reddening.
I try to stand up, but the brunette is still holding me in my place and I’m too tired to resist. Pull yourself together, I say to myself. Pull yourself together and get this nightmare over with. But what the hell am I going to talk about, feeling the way I do? I shut my eyes for a moment, and I know that there’s a good chance I won’t be able to open them again. This exhaustion is unbearable, I feel sick and my brain is trying to fight off the daze I’m in.
“Newton,” I say suddenly, and open my eyes. Whatever is going on across the table seems so far away now, like a movie I’m watching but not participating in. “Newton’s laws were first published in 1967 in his book The Principia: Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy.”
“Yes, yes,” the man keeps on panting and squints his eyes.
“The first law says that an object will always be consistent in its speed and direction of motion, unless the external forces acting on it don’t balance each other,” I lecture as if I’m standing behind a podium.
“Wow. More, more.” His eyes roll upward and he looks like he’s possessed.
“The second law of motion shows that the acceleration of an object depends directly on the force acting on it, and inversely on its mass.”
“Great, great.” His arm starts shaking and then his whole body does.
“The third law—”
The panting and puffing of the creature across from me turn into loud moans, and suddenly he lets out a howl and his body relaxes.
“Thank you so much,” he says sincerely. Picks up some napkins from the table, shoves them between his legs, arranges his clothes and stands up.
“I haven’t enjoyed myself like that for a long time…” he says with a dreamy look on his face as he throws a pile of bills on the table. He turns and leaves quickly.
“I didn’t finish explaining the third law…” I lay my head wearily on the table.
“Congratulations.” I hear the brunette laughing behind me and I force myself upright. “Now you’re one of us.” She’s still laughing as she gathers up the pile of money. “Today’s the first day you sold sex services!” She puts the money back down in front of me and I look at it in disgust and realize what she is saying. “No, I didn’t.” I stand up panicking and sway in place from the dizziness that has returned. “You forced me to stay here.” I curl my hands into fists.
“That doesn’t change the fact that you sold sexual services,” she says mockingly. “But don’t you worry about it, we don’t judge anyone here.”
Her words strike me in the pit of my stomach, and I can’t stop the burning in my throat anymore. “That’s yours,” she points at the money and I shove the table away from me until the dollar bills fall on the floor. I push her aside and run to the restroom, lean over the toilet and vomit. I can’t get any lower than this, I think just before I vomit again. Sometime later, when I feel that there’s nothing left for me to vomit, I stand up and wash my face. The exhaustion, the heaviness and the shock close in on me but instead of running away I shrink into a cloud of apathy. I’ll finish here tonight and leave. This time I won’t come back.
New customers are sitting around the tables with the girls. I serve them wearily and ignore the looks and the snickering around me. Each time I go over the counter Charlie looks at me concerned. He saw what happened and now he’ll never look at me the same way. The last customers leave, the girls gather around a few tables and chat cheerfully. I sit down on a barstool and sip a bottle of water. I’ve never hated anyone as much as I hate those girls and myself right now. But this exhaustion is overwhelming, and my eyes are so heavy.
The connecting door to the dance club opens and the three partners walk in and sit down at the round table.
I put my head down on the counter and don’t lift it, even when I hear the sound of metal ringing on glass.
“Elena,” the brunette yells, and the room falls silent.
“Mmmm…” I mumble and rub my eyes.
“Elena, come and join us. We’ll raise a glass in your honor.” She taps her glass again, and I sit up and gaze at her through a thick fog of exhaustion. “Good,” she giggles, “everyone raise your glasses up high, because today Elena provided sex services for the first time ever!”
“What!?” I hear the shocked cries from the round table and I turn my head. One of the images is growing in front of my eyes. Approaching me. Scarface is standing before me with a furious expression.
“Is she telling the truth?” he asks and grinds his teeth.
“I guess…” I shrug my shoulders and put my head back down on the counter.
“What do you mean, you guess?” He slams his fist down on the counter beside my head and I have no choice but to sit up again.
“Leave me alone.” My head is rocking back and forth. “I’m so tired.”
He glares at me. “You haven’t changed clothes since yesterday. Have you slept at all? Have you been home since I dropped you off at the university this morning?”
“I didn’t have time,” I mumble, praying that he’ll leave me alone.
“And what exactly happened tonight?” He won’t let it go.
“I don’t know.” I mutter. “I was so tired, and I sat down over there,” I point at the tables without moving my head. “And then a man came over and asked me to talk….”
“You sat over there?” His voice rises in anger. “I told you never to sit there.” He puts his hand on the back of my chair and looks at Charlie. “And where the hell were you?”
“I was here,” Charlie says apologetically, “but by the time I noticed, Amber was standing behind her,” I see him pointing at the brunette from the corner of my eye, “and Elena was already talking to him.”
“Tell me exactly what happened.” He says to me furiously but I shrug and refuse.
“Then you tell me,” he says to the brunette in the same tone of voice.
“It was really funny,” she answers, and her friends burst out laughing. For a minute it seems to me as if the scars are spreading to the angelic side of his face. “She just fell asleep there and when I arrived, he was already in the middle of his hand job. He was so excited when he saw her that I didn’t have the heart to replace her.” She tries to stifle another burst of laughter. “And then Elena started to talk. I couldn’t understand how the hell her boring speech didn’t put him to sleep, but he actually got even more excited and he came really quickly.” She sums it up and everyone laughs again.
“How much did he pay you?” Scarface shakes my chair and I sigh in despair.
“I don’t know. Do you really think I’d take money from that pervert?” I try to put my head back down on the counter, but he grips the back of my neck and forces me to look at him. “Where’s the money?” he asks coldly.
“I have it.” The brunette’s voice seems so far away…
“Stupid whore!” he roars at her, and the room falls silent again. “She didn’t take the money, and that means that she didn’t provide any sexual services. It means that she was confused and that you’re a bitch.” He lets go of me and I think that I sigh in relief. “If you ever pull a trick like that again, I will personally see to it that you’ll be working on the street, with other stupid whores like you.” He pulls me up gently and puts his arm around my shoulder. Not a sound can be heard throughout the bar. He walks forward and my legs move with him. He bends down to pick up my backpack and leads me out through the front door.
I feel the helmet being placed on my head and then I am placed on the motorcycle. He sits down in front of me, takes hold of my hands and pulls them around his hips. I lay my head on his back and close my eyes wearily, but when we start moving, I realize that I have no choice but to pull myself together and to hold on tight.
When he stops outside my building, he helps me off the motorcycle and pulls me towards him. I am walking, but I feel that my legs aren’t a part of me. He knows which floor to go to, and when we reach my door, he takes my keychain out of my bag. The door opens and he goes inside with me. “Where to?” he asks, and I try to understand what he wants. “Where should I take you?” he asks in a voice that doesn’t sound angry at all. “Where’s your bedroom?” he makes his question clearer and I jerk my head to the right. “You should get a few hours of sleep.” He lays me down on the bed and plays around with my cellphone. “I turned off your alarm,” he tells me, and I don’t have the strength to object. “Everything’s OK,” he says quietly. He bends down and strokes my shoulder as I close my eyes. “But it would be better if you don’t come back tomorrow.” He moves his finger across my cheek and leaves.