Lucy caught me watching the drunk. “You want to go in back? I fuck you good. You like fucking?”
“I think I’ll take a pass.”
“Whatever.” Her head leaned on my shoulder, tequila filled eyes fluttered. At three thirty, they flashed the house lights to let the drinkers know it was last call. I slipped Lucy off my lap, and after a kiss on the cheek I was gone. The streets were mostly empty as I walked back towards Motel 49.
“How was she, did she fuck you good?” My tip boy materialized at my side. “I told you she was primo gash, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, she was primo.”
“Primo enough for another tip?” he asked, with a Cheshire cat grin that showed off three gold teeth.
“Do I look like your ready-teller?” I let my eyes go cold.
“Shit easy, I’m just fucking with you, homey. So where you staying?”
“Baja Queen.” I didn’t want him or anyone else knowing too many details. After a long conversation where he tried to sell me everything including his virgin mother, I finally shook him off by promising to hook up with him the next afternoon. We had a street appointment for five PM, we both knew we would be there only if a better offer didn’t come up first.
CHAPTER 10
“They found the tarot de muerte card on the body of one of my best earners two nights ago,” Santiago said. He was a tall, aristocratic gentleman in his early fifties, his silver-flecked hair tied back in a shining ponytail.
“This ghost with the tarot cards is an old woman’s tale.” Kolya stopped pacing and gave Santiago a cold stare. These fucking Mexicans were worse than gypsies, with their superstitions and fucking saints.
“This old woman’s tale gutted Gaspar like a fucking fish.”
“Stop whining, people die all the time. What does this have to do with me?”
“Everyone knows he hunts for Russian blood,” Santiago said, trying to regain control of his emotions.
“Bring it on. I’ll show this killer of pimps how we handle punks in my house.”
“Bold. Do you want me to write that on your tombstone?” Santiago felt his old arrogance returning. To hell with the Russian, if he was too ignorant to see a scorpion in his boot, then he deserved the bite. The tarot de Muerte killer was bad for business, his pimps and their minions had refused to work until the killer’s head was on a stake. His best men had their ears to the ground. Sooner or later he would find him, and if this Russian son of a whore couldn’t be warned, then Santiago would use him like a tethered lamb when hunting mountain lions.
The barking and snarling dog woke Nika from her drifting state, she heard the sound of a car arriving and then a short time later, leaving. What time or even what day was lost to her as she lay in the dark. She still hadn’t eaten. How many days? The night the other girls had been taken to meet the men, they had returned late, none had spoken, their eyes were dull and distant. Svetlana brought them a large bowl of warm water and then locked them in; she hadn’t even looked at Nika. One by one they washed themselves silently. Nika noticed the water growing pink as Yumma scrubbed between her legs.
After sitting on her bunk and lighting a cigarette from a new pack, Yumma looked at Nika. “If you have to starve to death, don’t leave this room.”
“What did they do to you?”
Yumma didn’t answer. Instead, she lay back and blew a thin stream of blue smoke toward the ceiling.
Later in the dark, Nika could hear Guzel, the girl from Norilsk, snoring and whimpering. When they finally dragged her in she was covered in cuts and bruises. Her nose had been badly broken and was swollen and caked with blood. Nika had cleaned her up the best she could, cooing to her like she imagined a good mother would. The next afternoon, when Svetlana told the girls more men had come and it was time for them to earn their meal, all the young women lined up, heads down, eyes on the floor. Guzel stood on trembling legs and joined them. They reminded Nika of zombies.
“Well, my little princess,” Svetlana said to Nika, “are you ready to eat?”
Nika rolled away from the older woman whom she had thought for one foolish moment might be her savior.
Alone in the dark, Nika realized her hunger had faded and was replaced by a deep emptiness. Her strength was all but gone, she could feel herself growing lighter as every moment passed. Soon she would float up off the bed and drift past this hell into the clouds above.
Sunlight was burning through the thin stained curtain when I woke. It was early, too early. I had only been asleep for four hours. Morning wood was creating a tent out of my sheets. Anya’s face rolled across my mind. When this was over and I had returned her sister to her waiting arms, then, then I would take her someplace nice, quiet, away from the city. There I would tell her all I was and all I could be with a good woman. What was Anya doing at that moment… still sleeping? Was she alone or had Gregor joined her in the night? I got up quickly and took a cold shower before I let my mind turn me against my young Armenian friend.
Pounding my fist on the door, I roused Peter. He was groggy, and tattered like he had gotten less sleep than me. “Moses, what time is it?” He was holding the door open only a small crack.
“Time to rock-n-roll, let me in,” I said, pushing on the door, but he held it fast, “What, you got a woman in there?” His sheepish grin told me I had stumbled onto the truth. I pushed past him easily. On the bed, a naked young woman was deep in slumberland. I looked from Peter’s dipshit grin to the girl and shook my head sadly.
“What the fuck, huh?” he said.
“I’m going for some huevos rancheros. When I get back, have her gone and be ready to work.” It was then that I noticed the mirror with telltale white dust and a credit card. “How fucking stupid are you, huh, Pete? Tell me.”
“What? So I did a little blow, big deal.”
I walked out before I did something irreversible. I wasn’t his father or his priest or even his friend. He was a tool and if he didn’t work out, I’d drop him in a second.
At a small family restaurant, I got a steaming pile of eggs, pinto beans and fresh salsa served on top of fried homemade tortillas. It filled the hole in my gut and only cost three bucks. Two strong cups of rich black coffee later, I was calm enough to face Peter.
“This is the only way I know to get a story, total immersion.” Peter was drinking the cup of coffee I brought him. He was dressed and the girl had vanished.
“Total immersion? Is that what we’re calling it now? How old was she? I’m guessing sixteen.”
“Fuck off, she was nineteen.”
“And you’re what, forty?”
“Thirty-eight. What’s your point?”
“If you don’t get it, I can’t explain it.”
“You sanctimonious son of a bitch, I bet you’re just pissed that I got laid and you didn’t.” He shot me a smug little smile.
“Did this deep research uncover any news?” I asked, not expecting much.
“I found out Anthony’s is a legal brothel slash dance club. You buy a drink, pick a girl, and if you want to take her out, you pay the house a twenty dollar bar fine,” he rattled off like a Dictaphone spitting back the facts. “Most of the working girls in town either work out of there or have in the past. None that I talked to have seen any Russian girls working. But after a few lines and half a bottle of Herradura Anejo, the girl you found in my bed let slip that she had heard of a house on the other side of Gringo Hills that is owned by a group of Russians. She didn’t know what they do, but the rumor is they’re criminally connected to the Santiago family, Baja Cali’s numero uno pimp crew. That’s about it, but then again, I started late. What did you find out?”