Page 31 of Scarred King
We go outside, the street is so quiet. He waits with me for a cab to arrive. He tells the driver where to take me and hands him some money. “Thanks for the time off,” I say, confused and the cab drives off.
Over the next few workdays I feel myself seeking him out but he makes no attempt to be alone with me and I have no reason to ask him to. I do my job quietly and efficiently. Every so often, when I look over at the round table, I see him looking at me. It's better this way, I try to convince myself. Every physical contact between us just confuses me and I really don’t need that. My future is wonderful, and his can only be terrible. This place distracts me, our strange relationship unbalances me and I have to remember what is really important. I’m going to the conference with a person I worship. He’ll be all mine for three whole days. I glance at the clock and see that in just a few hours my shift will be over and tomorrow morning I’ll be living the dream.
An overweight, sweaty man walks in, besides him walks a skinny girl with her head down. She looks like she’s about thirteen or fourteen, no older than that and I don’t understand what she’s doing here. I sit on the barstool and watch them curiously. The man sits down across from the blondes and signals the girl to take a chair and sit down next to him. I jump up from my seat and go over to them.
“What would you like to drink?” I ask, still examining the girl’s delicate face, I’m shocked to see dark bruises beside her eyes.
“I’ll have a beer,” the man says, drumming his fingers on the table.
“What about you, sweetie?” I ask the girl. She raises her head, surprised.
“I-I—” she stutters in a heavy Russian accent, “I want Coke.”
“She’ll just have a glass of water,” the man says angrily, and she lowers her head again. I nod and walk to the next table, wiping it down with a cloth while I listen to their conversation.
“This idiot has no idea what she needs to do,” the man says to the blonde and I see her glancing towards the round table. She is waiting for Scarface to look at her, but he’s busy reading through his file. “I’ll pay you by the hour and you teach her.” He drums his fingers on the table again and turns around to me. “Bitch, where’s my beer?” he shouts at me, and Scarface raises his head. I choose not to answer and walk over to the counter.
“Give me a beer and a Coke,” I ask Charlie and notice that he’s also staring at the table. He puts the two bottles in front of me, and when I turn around towards the tables I see something strange going on, no talking, only small head movements. Scarface shakes his head at the blonde and she nods in approval. Scarface then looks at Charlie and this time he nods and Charlie winks at him. I have no idea what they’re planning, but I silently watch as I walk towards the table and put the beer bottle in front of the man.
“How old is she?” asks the blonde with a smile.
“What do you care?” he answers rudely and takes a swallow of beer. I put the Coke in front of the girl, and she stares at me, confused. “What are you doing, bitch? I told you to bring her a glass of water,” he raises his voice and his disgusting saliva sprays across my arm.
“It’s on the house,” I answer calmly and wipe my arm with a napkin.
“I'm not paying for it, that’s for sure,” he says bitterly and gulps his beer. Tommy comes downstairs and Mike comes in from the club. They sit down with Scarface and glance at the table. Once again another silent conversation starts, using nothing but gestures.
“Who owns the white Ford outside?” Charlie calls out, as if there are any other customers here besides the disgusting man.
“Mine,” the man answers and wipes his sweaty forehead with a napkin. “Why?”
“It’s being towed.” Charlie says with a smile, drying the wine glass he’s holding.
“Motherfuckers!” the man says loudly and runs outside. Tommy yawns and counts his fingers out loud. “One, two, three, boom.”
I hear brakes screeching and then a crash.
The bouncer opens the door. “One of your customers got run over in a hit and run. What should I do?” He sounds amused and I put my hand over my mouth in surprise.
“How bad is it?” Scarface asks, stifling a smile.
“Critical,” the bouncer winks at him and I turn pale as I realize what all the gesturing was about.
“Move him into the other alley,” Tommy instructs dryly. “I can’t be bothered with stupid police investigations.”
The bouncer nods and leaves.
“Now, what shall we do with this sweet thing?” the blonde asks and strokes the girl’s head. The girl doesn’t realize that anything unusual happened and she smiles at her, embarrassed.
“She must come from Yuri’s gang of bastards,” Charlie says from the bar. “Only those scumbags would sell little girls.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Scarface says calmly. He pulls his cellphone out and dials. “Vladimir, there was an accident outside our bar. One of our customers, who I believe is your customer too, was run over. He left your unused merchandise here.” He is quiet and then addresses the blonde. “Ask her what her name is.”
The blonde is still stroking the girl’s head as she asks what her name is and how old she is. “Paulina, and she’s thirteen,” she says and shakes her head in disgust.
"Tell him he's a son of a bitch," Mike says to Scarface and looks at the girl in pity, but Scarface raises his palm and silences him.
“Her name is Paulina,” Scarface says coldly. “Thirteen years old.” He is quiet again, listening to the person who speaks on the other side of the line. “No,” he says finally, “Don’t come to get her. We’ll buy her.” Silence again, and my heart is thumping. I don’t understand what’s going on, and I don’t think I really want to. “How much?” Scarface bursts out laughing when he hears the answer. “Are you crazy? Twenty thousand and not a dollar more.” Oh my God! Is he negotiating over the poor girl’s future? “It just went down to 15,000.” Scarface says dryly, “And you know how easy it would be for me to call some old friends and make her disappear to a safe house.” He sounds completely serious and I scratch my arm nervously. This girl’s fate depends on the answer on the other end of the line, but I’m not sure that her future will be any better here. “Come get the money tomorrow and tell your brother that we said that you’re all sick sons of bitches,” Scarface ends the conversation.