Chapter 1 #3
At that moment, the door swung open and three laughing people came stumbling out. Of course, one was Elena herself. She paused, her smile turning curious at the sight of us.
“Do you want to come to the discoteca?” she asked coyly, and glanced at Vitali’s coat draped over me like a tent. “Both of you?”
“I’m on my way out,” he told her.
“What a coincidence!” she exclaimed. “So is Katya!”
I started to protest, but I’d already told her I planned on leaving—just not with him. Or, maybe not ‘with’ him but I was pretty sure that’s what she meant to happen.
I wasn’t that kind of girl. I had done things with boys when I was younger, and there had been a brief period where I dated a French man in university who was fond of going down on me, but we never had sex. My mama didn’t raise me that way.
But the scent of that leather jacket went a long way toward making me question my morality.
“I’ll give you a ride,” he said, putting out his cigarette.
“See? Everything works out for the best.” Elena giggled, and one of the men she’d been with grabbed her arm and dragged her squeaking and laughing toward the elevator. It whined and rattled as the bent doors came open.
I was surprised to hear that Vitali had a car.
No one had a car. Aside from them being wildly expensive, the city was crowded and not built for that.
The only person I knew with an old Lada was our next-door neighbor, who had been some high rank in the army, which allowed for luxuries many families didn’t see.
But then again, none of my neighbors had cologne like Vitali…
I grabbed my purse inside, and he gave a quick whistle which carried across the room despite the boombox screaming ‘But where do you go from here?’
“Mish,” he called.
The man with the shaved head pushed aside his drink and was up and moving faster than a man his size should be allowed. He said nothing as he followed us out the door.
The fall air immediately stung my bare legs, but I didn’t let on. Vitali walked beside me as we made our way down the street lit with the cold, blue light of tall overhead lamps.
A few cars were parked along the side of the road, but to my surprise, we kept walking past them until we reached the end of the apartment complex, where a raised dirt lot served as access to the heating pipes.
The only car parked there was a shiny, brand-new black Mercedes.
Dima says he’s involved with the mafia.
I slowed, and Vitali anticipated this because he set a hand over my lower back to keep me walking forward. He went to the passenger side and opened the door for me, watching my exposed thigh as the dress slid higher when I got in.
“What, you’re not going to open the door for me?” Misha snorted. “Some gentleman.”
“You’re lucky I don’t drive away without you,” Vitali told him as he got in the driver’s seat.
“Katya, you like music?” Misha asked, fumbling with something in the backseat. I glanced at him through the mirror. He almost took up the entire back.
“I do,” I said. “Roxanne, Time Machine, or anything by Eurodance.”
“I like Nirvana,” Misha said and reached between us to slip a CD in the player. It wzzzzjjjj’d and situated the disk, but the second the song began, Vitali turned the volume to zero.
“Where am I taking you?” he asked.
“Asshole,” the backseat said.
“Central Town,” I said. “Off street Pushkina.”
Vitali nodded. I didn’t know when he rolled up his sleeves, but as he set his arm against my headrest, I watched his forearm muscles move and my drunk heart skipped a very vital beat.
It wasn’t far once we got across the river, and the bright lights of the main road began rushing past. Vitali was quiet, and Misha muttered the lyrics to Smells Like Teen Spirit, seemingly to piss him off.
I leaned my forehead against the window.
The hour was too late, and I had too much to drink.
I must have nodded off, because my head embarrassingly slipped, and as I tried to right myself, my hand brushed against something in a crease of the leather.
It was wet, but I was wearing his jacket and Elena’s dress, so I didn’t wipe it off; instead smelling it to make sure I hadn’t just dipped my fingers in something disgusting.
The car cost more than our apartment, but I had that thought anyway.
Iron hit my nostrils, and recognition zapped the back of my skull. Unmistakable. It was blood. Old, but very real blood.
Dima says he’s involved with the mafia, the echo repeated for the second time, and I swallowed a hard gulp, sobriety rushing at me like a train.
“Everything okay?” Vitali asked, and I nodded.
“Just tired.”
When we pulled to a stop, it was right on the corner next to a mini mart built into the first story of the apartments.
He opened my door. “This one, right?”
The apartments were set between a main road and a library. That’s where the communal flat was, at least. Not home.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Katya,” he rested his thumbs against his belt, tilting his head as I shifted under his stare, “give me your phone number.”
“We don’t have a phone,” I lied, and it was a valid lie because a lot of people still used a payphone, and I hoped my drunk butt didn’t make it blatantly clear how scared I was. God help me… it was blood…
I started to shrug off his jacket, but he stopped me.
“I’ll get it from you next time, Kotik,” he said, then, without trying to shake my hand or kiss me, he walked back to the car where Misha fiddled with the CDs. His words didn’t sink in until later.
He called me Kitty.
Before the door shut, EuroMachine blared ‘You are, you are, you are not for me.’
* * *
About Russia
blyad - a common swear word meaning something between “whore” and “fuck”
discoteca - a dance club
kopek – the Russian equivalent of a cent
Kotik - a unisex term of endearment meaning “little cat,” although when referring to an actual cat, this would be a masculine word
living beer – Unfiltered, fermented beer that contains live yeast
‘New Russian’ - a term for the newly rich (often assumed to be through shady business) following the collapse of the Soviet Union. At the time, they tended to be very flashy with their money
solnishko - term of endearment meaning “sun”