Chapter 3
All through Jess's absence, Alexei's words kept haunting her despite the tiredness that was beginning to inhabit her. She was supposed to work eight hours a day, five days a week, alternating with Jess. she had been working double shifts for a week. The extra Alex had for hers and Jessica's days off was nice, but she had children and she couldn't cover for Jess or Camille.
Yet, despite the tiredness, despite the migraine, she could still hear her boss's words floating around in her mind. Especially when she had seen Vladimir from afar. He had come to the bar on Wednesday night, meeting someone again with Anatoly in the private space. He had been tense. Anatoly too. They hadn't exchanged a word. That was fine by her. Weird, a little unsettling, but fine.
She didn't want to be on the hitlist. She didn't fucking want to be on it.
But she knew. She knew that if Vladimir were to do his little flirting act again, she would flirt back. He was hot, sure, but that wasn't the only reason. She wasn't that shallow. And even if she were, there were plenty of hot men in NYC with a lot less troubles lurking in their shadow. No, from the few times she had seen him, she had seen other things in him. First off, he seemed smart. Not the academical smart, sure. No, it was more of a shrewd cleverness, something that forces you to think harder to try and decipher the inner working of his brains. Second, he was gentle. Okay, right, his victims, that she was picturing in her mind, were begging to differ. So, more exactly, he could be gentle when he wanted to. She had been able to feel it, from the way he gave her back her lighter to the way he put his hand on her back, always small movements, careful and measured. She had seen it too in the way he had detected her melancholy easily and had enough empathy not to push for answers.
And last, but not least – and yeah, yeah, she was already berating herself for being so cliché - he was male. Her definition of male, at least. She wanted to know men like him. Strong, of body and mind, who'd never let anyone, not even the law in his case, bully them around. Bold. Self-confident without being too arrogant. She had never really cared for those traits before, but she supposed she had been strong enough for two at the time. She wasn't now. She knew she was in a fragile state of mind right now. She had known a strong man, the kind who could have been a whole family's cement. And she missed him. Dearly.
So maybe it wasn't healthy. And maybe it was dangerous. But she didn't want to spend her life with him. Just a night or two. A rebound guy of sorts. He wouldn't mind, she'd bet. And she wasn't going to end on anyone's target list for getting her sheets rumpled with him once or twice.
Was she?
Anyway, right now, he wasn't on her mind, for a change. Her water had broken! When she had called her boss, the only person she knew who might be able to help her, or at least help her find someone who could help, there had been a very, very long silence.
"What d'ya mean, your water broke?" He had been between hilarious and totally horrified.
"It's my bathroom's sink!" She had screamed on the phone. "The tap is broken and there is water everywhere!"
At that, he had laughed. Hard. She had had to get the phone away from her hear, scowling at it while she was still pressing a towel around her tap desperately.
"It is not funny!" She had wined. She'd just got out of bed. It was her day off. And she would spend it fixing the damn plumbing! Or drown trying.
"Calm down, girl. Give me a moment and I'll come and help you out. Meanwhile, try to put something around it to slow it down and try to mop your floor, before it starts raining downstairs!" And he was back to his booming laugh.
Someone was in a good mood… Well, they shall see, when he would be ankle deep into the freezing water, with more freezing water splashing on his face, if he'd still laugh so hard!
Despite the fact that Camille was somewhat miffed with her boss, she still welcomed him like a dog who hasn't seen its owner for too long, hugs and all, when he arrived half an hour later. He had put working pants on, along with a stained tee. Homeworking-wear, she reckoned. It was strange to see him wear anything but the black suit he put on at work.
Waiting for him, she hadn't been useless. She had managed to somewhat diminish the waterflow and she had put all her towels, save for the one she used to dry herself, on the bathroom floor. There were turning splotchy but at least it wasn't raining downstairs.
"So, little lady," Alexei said, probably as much amused at her despair as he was at her Winnie The Pooh top. "Let's see that sink of yours."
He let his eyes wander to her long legs covered only by her small plaid shorts and high soccer socks she had put on when her floor had stopped looking like a pond. She saw. But at least, he didn't stop at it for too long and she didn't hold it against him. She wasn't supposed to see people dressed like this but: It. Was. War!
Alex, blessed his soul, took a look at the situation and declared it was probably the tap's sealing that was broken. He cut the waterflow and started to dismantle her sink. She watched him do it, asking questions when she had to. She wanted to be able to fix it herself if it happened again. The whole thing could have gone quicker but Alex was a good teacher. Just like with bartending, he took the time to show her what he was doing, what kind of seal she should buy in advance in case this happened again. She was lucky he had some of the right size.
As they were working, – well, as Alex worked, his back hunched over the tap, and Camille watched as closely as she could without bothering him – his phone rang. Star Wars' Darth Vader's tune echoed around the tiles. She laughed.
"Who did you associate that with?" she asked, grinning.
"Only two people in the world," he grumbled back, trying to keep up with what he was doing while still tucking the phone between his neck and his shoulder. "Da?"
More Russian… She rolled her eyes. If Camille weren't struggling enough with speaking in English on an everyday basis, she would sincerely believe she had landed in the wrong country.
He exchanged a few sentences before sighing, saying one more thing in russian. Then, he handed her the phone.
"My hands are taken. And I need you to buy me a few minutes." She looked at the device handed to her as if it had teeth. What was she supposed to do with it? But Alexei insisted. She could see in his frown that he was losing patience so, she grabbed it.
The name on it was in Cyrillic. No luck.
"Hello?" she tried, hoping that whoever was on the phone spoke English.
And since Alex wasn't that kind of cruel, the man on the phone did speak English. However, Alex was still some kind of cruel, and she should have known who would be on the other side of the line.
"Lovely Camille!" a delighted voice answered her. Russians were in a good mood today. Was it some kind of Christmas day to them?
"Vladimir," she sighed back, "I should have known…"
He laughed.
"I was supposed to meet with Alexei for lunch but he told me you are getting in the way."
She smiled and blushed at the same time, happy that he couldn't see her. It was easier to talk to him when she didn't have to care about her facial expressions.
"Yeah, my water broke." Alex had explained to her what was the real meaning of this sentence. He smirked when he heard her using it again, on purpose this time.
As expected, a long silence followed.
"What?"
She burst out laughing.
"My bathroom's sink is broken!" she explained, and she thought she could hear a small relieved sigh on the other end of the line. "Alex is an angel and he is fixing it." Said angel grunted in protest.
"Ah, Alex," Vladimir sighed, "Always the white knight in shining armor." Camille smiled at that.
She went to walk around her small appartement. It wasn't much, but it was home to her. She walked from her bathroom to her bedroom, only big enough to have a cupboard to put her clothes in and a bed big enough for two. Then she went to her living room, fixing the small throw pillows on the couch as she went. Thankfully, her kitchenette was clean. She had always hated having people at her place when it wasn't sparky clean.
"Well, I'm waiting for him now. Do you think he will be long?" Vladmir asked, bothered. She wasn't surprised to discover he wasn't the patient type.
She was about to sit by her window, her "chatting spot" as she called it, when she almost jumped. She could see him, right across the street, a phone in his hand, pacing in front of the bar's entrance.
She hesitated.
And then, as usual, she did what wasn't the decent thing to do: she sat on her spying spot and decide to try having a reaction out of him while he was unaware that she could see him.
"I don't know. Maybe?" She could see him scowl. "I guess we'll have to keep ourself occupied to pass the time."
Ah, ah! Victory! As she had said it, with at least an attempt at sexyness, his eyebrows had raised up as far as they could go. He had stopped pacing and was leaning against the bar's closed door, a foot against the wall and a hand in his pocket. His expression had gone from bothered to surprised and now… Now, it was something else. Playful, she'd say.
"And how do you propose we do that, sweetheart?" he asked with the same kind of flirty tone she had used.
"I don't know…" She purred, searching her mind for something cheeky to say. "I'm willing to follow your l-… Hey!"
Unbeknownst to Camille, Alex had finished his work, walked into the living room, and snatched back his phone.
"You can do your sex calls with your own phone," the giant man grumbled. He was frowning, and a little embarrassed.
"You told me to buy you a few minutes! I did," Camille defended herself, half-laughing. Alex, the gigantic embarrassed bear, was cute!
"Yeah, yeah," he told her dismissively as if she was a small dog yapping at him. Maybe that was how he saw her. A pet. A stray that had come to his door one night and had never gone away. It was almost how she saw herself in this relationship. Alex had given her a job, taught her how to do it, he protected her from harassment, without ever having one inappropriate behavior. He was her savior in this city. And, yes, maybe she was kind of yapping at him.
"She is watching you from her window, you fool," he informed Vladimir. She felt obliged to open said window and wave at him. He smirked and she shrugged.
Sorry, not sorry.
Then, their conversation went back to be spoken in Russian. Alexei waved her goodbye; told her he would come back to pick up his tool case and then went to meet with Vladimir down the street.
As they hailed a taxi, her own phone rang out.
"Salut, maman!"
When Camille arrived at work that day, she was glad to see Jessica was back. She would never admit it out loud but she had missed her. Every day they worked, they had four hours together. It was the busiest time of the night for the bar, hence the double barmaids, but it was also the "people time" of Camille.
With her line of work now, she was always seeing a lot of people, but since she had landed in NYC, she was mostly alone. She had no friend on the whole continent. Her aunt in Pennsylvania was old and senile. What was left of her family was in France, and phone calls could only do so much.
She was lonely.
Those small four hours with Jessica were the most tiring because they both had a lot to do, but still, they always found the time to chat a little. She had missed that.
That was why, as she got into the bar, once she had put her things in the back, she addressed her a brilliant smile.
"Jess! I'm so happy you're back!" She hugged her. She was a hugger. Everyone let it slide, thinking it was a French thing. It wasn't. Her family was always making fun of her because of it. But just like her family, Jess was used to it by now and she hugged her back. "How are you? How is Betsy?" Betsy was Jessica's only daughter. She worked as a social worker and still lived with her mother. Camille was about the same age and, thought she had never seen Betsy, she had heard so much about her, she felt like she knew her.
"I'm better, thanks!" Following her lead, Camille started picking up orders and serving patrons. There were plenty tonight. Some soccer game or the other was on, and the music had been shut down to let people scream at the television every time the referee blew his whistle. All she understood was that Russia was playing.
The girls served rounds and rounds of beer and vodka and whiskey. Everyone cheered or swore, depending on the score. Every time Russia scored – or got close to it – the floor and the walls would shake with the general hysteria. Some guys were getting on the street to make some kind of victory lap, some put their hands on their head, some tried to hug her or Jess. It was nice. Both girls casted a pointed look at each other. The talking time would have to wait until the next day… It was probably for the best as it would be a Sunday.
For now, they simply enjoyed the high spirit that ruled over the bar. Russia was one point ahead for now. The clients were in heaven. One of them, a young man with black hair, black eyes and a tanned skin insisted they had to wear a Russian soccer jersey. The crowd agreed. In a few minutes, two jerseys had been found and put over their head without even asking them. Camille laughed. She had always loved this kind of ambiance.
As Russia scored again, the "Goal!" screamed by everyone around was so loud she thought she was going to end up deaf. The only problem was, at the time, she had been trying to get to a table to clear the empty glasses on it. It was useless. Everyone was hugging everyone and the men seemed to have decided she and Jess were lucky charms. They were hugged from everywhere. It was madness. A regular client, a big guy named Sergei, even hugged her so hard her feet weren't touching the floor anymore.
She barely had time to get back on her feet, still in the arms of Sergei that the young guy who had the jerseys' idea snaked an arm around her neck and kissed her hair. She laughed again, trying to untangle herself from all those sweaty, smelly, hysteric, but at the moment harmless, men.
She finally manager to come closer to the counter. Seeing her, Jess lifted its leaf for her to pass through.
"Come and take cover!" Her colleague said, laughing too. "It's madness! And it's only the first one of the season!"
Camille didn't mind nights like these. People were happy. Tips were good. Alex was making a small fortune.
As the girl turned to her colleague, she saw that two newcomers had just arrived. They frayed their way to the counter, no one was parting like the red sea for them tonight. They didn't seem to mind. They were grinning at each other like kids, hunched over the counter to protect themselves against flying arms and drops of beer. It was cute how men were turned back to rowdy teenagers when soccer was involved.
Jessica, still terrified of them, probably even more so now that they were not in the private space, looked at Camille, ready to give her back the dirty work as she did last time. Except this time, the girl didn't mind.
"I'll get it."
Relief washed over Jess's face. And she had every reason to be relieved. Camille was the crazy one.
"Hi!" She screamed over the hubbub. "What can I get you both?"
"Hi, sweetheart," Anatoly said vaguely, utterly uninterested in her. She was pretty sure he didn't even know her name. Anyway, his baby-blue eyes were on the game. She could have bet that, in a few minutes, he'd be just as mad as the others.
"Hello, Camille," Vladimir said right after, a little more interested. But not much, she thought, smirking. Men and soccer… Jess was American, where soccer was not the national sport so she obviously didn't get it, but Cami was from Europe, where soccer was almost a religion for a lot of people. "Get us two pints of beer, will you?"
"Comin' right up!" she screamed over the ambient noise.
She poured their drinks, and a few others, taking the cash as she went. She was going to be the richest waitress in town tonight with so many tips! Maybe she could buy that marvelous dress she had seen on the Internet? She couldn't wait to be home and, like a squirrel, count her hazelnuts on her bed.
However, when Vladimir's turn came, she put their glasses down and refused his cash.
"It's on me," she explained as she faced his surprised expression. "You paid way too much for your last drink here." She winked at him and let him have a toast with his brother.
She kept serving drinks after drinks, taking payment in exchange and sipping some of her Diet Coke when she could. She was going to be dead on her feet by the end of the night. When she finally felt some lull, she grabbed the opportunity the go out for a smoke. If Russia won, she wouldn't have a moment of rest before Alexei kicked everyone out.
As she had guessed, the patio was empty. Tobacco addiction couldn't hold against soccer, she supposed. She lit a cigarette and took a deep breath, enjoying the cool breeze of an early summer night. She was exhausted already. Her feet were killing her. Her arms too. And her back hurt even more. So, contrary to her own habit, she sat on one of the metallic chairs placed near the ashtray. When her thighs, naked underneath her black skirt, touched the cold metal of the chair, she closed her eyes and sighed loudly in relief. She really had been overheating back there.
As she let her feet sprawl as far as they could go, she heard laughter in her back. It was a laughter she was starting to know very well. She let her head fall behind her back to see Vladimir, an upside-down version of him at least, walking toward her at a lazy pace. He, too, had a cigarette at the corner of his mouth.
"Keep making noises like that and the patio won't stay empty for very long."
Only once he had walked past and sat in front of her, she deigned to go back to a somewhat respectable way of sitting on a chair.
"Don't mind me," he said. The little flame of his lighter casted light and shadows on his face. It made it looked even harsher than it was in broad daylight. As soon as it came, it was gone, and they were plunged again in half-darkness. "I was quite enjoying the show."
She snorted. Yes, she bet he had been.
"I didn't expect to see you tonight," she changed the subject. She was honestly too tired to play this game and just wanted to enjoy the cool air for a few minutes.
"Why is that?" The way he said it, almost grumpy, made her refrain a smile. But she explained herself seriously anyway.
"I don't know, I thought you wouldn't want to meddle with the crowd that way. Usually, the men here, when they see you, they almost bend the knee before scampering away. Tonight, they are too caught up in the game to notice you're here, let alone bend the knee."
He snorted at that.
"You talk like I'm some king."
Silence lasted for a while, both enjoying their smoke as red ambers were the only lights with the moonlight. It wasn't enough to allow each one to see the other's expressions. It made her feel bold.
"Aren't you?" she finally dared to ask. It was how she saw him, at least. It was also a can of worms, she knew. Up until now, they had not talk about it. About any of it. She had been determined to only have light chats with him. With any of them. But she could only do so much light-headed chat. She was curious, had always been.
They were silent once again. Her heart was beating faster and faster in her ribcage. Had she stepped too far over the line? Had she broken some code she wasn't aware of? She felt like she had… Then again, when she heard his answer, she thought maybe not.
"Go on a date with me, and I might tell you."
She froze, completely stunned.
"What?" It was the only question her mind could come up with, her voice wavering. Of all the things he could have said... She had not been expecting that. Well, she had known that, if they kept meeting like this, talking like this, flirting like this, he would have asked eventually. But not now. And not like this. It was a bold move, to say the least.
"Come on!" He encouraged her, a big smile lengthening the shadows on his face as he let out a cloud of smoke. Her cigarette was in her hand, on the table, completely forgotten. "When is your next day off?"
"Tuesday."
She was too surprised to think more about her answer. An annoyed «tsk» answered her.
"Shit," he swore. "It had to be Tuesday..." She almost felt relieved and was about to shrug him off with a "we'll see later, then" but she didn't get the chance. "Never mind, I'll manage. Tuesday it is then. 7pm?"
Well, shit indeed. She was attracted to him, she knew that. She also knew it wasn't just physical, or because she was lonely or any pathetic excuses she could come up with in her mind. They had something. She had felt that once, in another life, and was honest enough to recognize it right away this time. Without knowing exactly why, she felt at ease with him now. Well, as at ease as one could be when faced with a near stranger who, she imagined, killed people and smiled while doing it. Despite every reasonable thought - it really was the worst idea in the history of bad ideas - she still wanted to know him better. Physically mostly, right now, but not just that...
"Alright," she finally accepted, not as reluctantly as her pride or her brain would have liked.
"Good." He nodded in acknowledgment before standing up, holding out his hand for her to take. She crushed her stub in the ashtray and took it, letting herself be lifted off her chair, and letting go of it quickly.
Once again, he put a hand on the small of her back and held out the door for her. She didn't jump this time. She suspected she would get use to this rather quickly.
As they got back inside, Vladimir headed for his partner in crime who visibly couldn't wait to tell him what part of the game he had missed. As for Camille, well, she awkwardly took back her place behind the counter under the heavy gaze of her colleague. Obviously, Jessica had seen him go out, same time as she had, and coming back, same time as she had. If that half-judging, half-afraid-to-ask face of hers was any clue to go by, she had seen the hand on her back too...
Shit, shit, shit! She was in for a lecture from hell...
