The Guest Room(65)

I thought Sonja and I needed to run much farther away. If we were going to Los Angeles, we should go to Los Angeles. We really had not run far away at all. I looked at a subway map and could see the block right where the town house was where we had been living the day before. I counted the blocks. We were only forty-five streets north and ten avenues west.

But Sonja thought this was fine, at least for now. We needed to lay low—not travel right away when everyone was keeping an eye out for us. And they would never look for us right under their noses. Besides, she said, we were not going to be here long.

Still, by daylight this plan seemed crazy. Even if we got to Los Angeles, I was not sure why we would be safe. I lit a cigarette even though I wasn’t supposed to smoke in the hotel room and opened the window to blow out the smoke. Oligarchs like Vasily, I knew, had tentacles like giant squids.

…

I wondered if I would have been brave enough to help the police guy if he had come to me. I couldn’t decide. But I did know this: Crystal may have been into him, but she was taking a chance for all of us. She was thinking of Sonja and me and all the girls they were bringing to America. I knew that in my heart. If she had gotten free, we all would have gotten free. I thought about that as I smoked, and I went from very, very scared to very, very sad.

…

Sonja and I were going to meet at nine o’clock on Saturday morning at a pizza parlor we had seen the night before. That was our plan. I woke up earlier than that. When I put out my cigarette, I made a list. It made me think a little less about how sad and scared I was—maybe because it made me think I was in control of something. I added up how much money we had and how much we were spending. There were the two hotel rooms and food and the clothes we were going to have to buy. If we really were going to Los Angeles, we would need to be making a lot more money every night than we were spending, because we would need a lot more money than we had. Whoever was going to steal us our passports or make us fake ones was going to want a lot of money. The plane tickets would cost nothing compared to a couple of fake or stolen passports.

I told Sonja this as we ate our pizza for breakfast. We were standing at a counter that faced a wall, but there was a mirror so we could see who was coming into the place. I was so hungry. I hadn’t eaten since before we had left for the party the day before. We were still wearing our knit caps with the sports team logos on them. And even though we were inside, we were wearing our sunglasses.

“I don’t know how strip clubs here work, but it can’t be any crazier than it was in Moscow, yes?” she said.

“What do you know about Moscow strip clubs?” I asked. “You never worked in one.”

She held the last of the crust like it was chicken bone, and looked at it. “You take your clothes off and men give you money. You take the right ones to special rooms and finish them off. You give some of the money to the club managers. How complicated is it?”

“We’re wearing hats and sunglasses because we don’t want people to find us,” I reminded her. “Because we don’t want to be recognized. And your plan is to stand in front of a roomful of men completely naked? Why don’t we just go back to the town house and say, ‘We’re here! Come kill us!’ Why don’t we just go up to one of those police guys outside and tell them who we are?”

“No one knows what we look like.”

“The men at the party do!” I told her, and I thought of the faces I could remember. I thought of the bachelor’s brother. Richard. I thought of the bedroom upstairs where we went.

“They’re not looking for us, I promise you. Those little dicks? They are scaredy-cats. Besides, why would they want to find us? They don’t. They are terrified of us. So, my opinion? We have three nights.”

“Three nights?”

“I think we have three days and three nights before it becomes too dangerous. We each take two clubs. We work a day shift in one and a night shift in the other. We make as much money from tips as we can and then we count what we have. On Tuesday I meet with the dude who will get us the passports—”

“You know someone who can do that? Here?”

She nodded. “He was at the town house last Tuesday. He was with Crystal and me.”

I knew who she meant. Fellow was Georgian from Tbilisi and now lived in Queens. Clearly had black market connections. Tall and blond, with perfectly trimmed blond beard. Was acquaintance of Russians, but not a friend. “The guy—”

“Don’t ask me questions. I don’t want you to know too much if this blows up in my face.”

“No. You have to tell me.”

“Fine. It was his phone number I left at the party. I hid it in condom wrapper. But then like dope I brought that one upstairs. The paper is in the bed or by the bed. I forgot to get it. But I think I remember enough of the telephone number. It might take a few dials, but I’ll find him,” she said. She rinsed her mouth with the soda in the paper cup. Then she continued, “On Tuesday night, we’re on airplanes to California. Different planes, but we will meet at the Los Angeles Airport. Maybe I will have Kim Kardashian pick us up.” She was smiling when she said Kim’s name. How she could joke amazed me.

“So, Tuesday night,” she repeated when I said nothing.

I thought about this. It was Saturday morning. Saturday night was a big night for these clubs. Even I understood that. “Maybe we could start tonight somewhere.”