Three Stations

16

Although the night's rainstorm had become morning's drizzle, Yegor insisted on getting in line for hot dogs and beer at an outdoor kiosk.

"I knew you'd come," he told Maya.

"Just until we find my baby."

The clerk in the kiosk was brown, with dark eyelids and a scholar's wire-rim glasses. He greeted Yegor tentatively. "Are you in a good mood today, my friend?"

"Definitely."

"That's good. You are always welcome when you are in a good mood."

"We've been waiting an hour for some fucking service. I'm just kidding."

"You are in a fine mood, I can see. You are our guest. Whatever you want."

"You're sure?"

"A hundred percent."

"Ali is a good guy," Yegor told Maya. "Indian or Pakistani?"

"Pakistani, please," Ali said.

"Who somehow got stuck here in Moscow."

"Stranded by fate. I came to study thirty years ago and here I am."

"Some ignorant shits gave Ali some trouble."

"Prejudice is a terrible thing. You bet I am the only Pakistani with his own kiosk."

"Prejudice." Yegor shook his head.

"But Yegor snapped his fingers and trouble disappeared. Now there are no more problems, at least not from violent youth, thanks to Yegor. You go to any other kiosk and you will hear the same story. Yegor is an important friend to have."

Yegor pushed Maya's hood back and revealed her blue scalp. "What do you think?"

"Quite exotic. How old is she?"

"Enough." Yegor collected the food and hustled Maya away, but he was pleased. "Did you hear that? You have an 'important friend.'"

"I don't want a friend, I want Katya."

"Agreed, but you can't go talking about a fucking baby with potential customers. A deal goes both ways. You have to keep your end of the bargain."

"I will."

"And stay away from Genius. He thinks you're the Virgin Mary. Don't act that way around me. You should be happy I appreciate you the way you are."

Which was nothing more than a prostitute, Maya thought. He had a way of looking at her that made her feel as if his hands crawled over her body, milking her breasts and insinuating himself between her legs, although he hadn't put a hand on her. The sensation was hypnotic and demeaning and she was sure he knew exactly what he was doing.

From hours of intimate observation she could read men. Some wanted the fantasy sex of a lifetime, worth a special chapter in a book. Some wanted to rescue an innocent girl, after sex, not before. They all wanted their money's worth.

Maya choked on her hot dog and spat it into the gutter.

"What's the matter?" Yegor asked.

"It's disgusting."

"No time to start like the present, then."

Rain slowed but didn't halt traffic and Maya wondered what passengers in the cars saw when they looked out of their cozy lives. A red stream of brake lights. A miserable few tables of CDs and DVDs under plastic. A young pimp and a whore in their element.