by Ryan Schow
“How old is this girl you’d like to have?” she asked. “Second one, not first.”
“Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen,” he said. “Maybe younger.”
Her nostrils flared as she took a breath, but then she visibly calmed herself. “We need a good picture of you. Several, actually. And then I will help you find these girls.”
“Thank you,” he said sincerely.
“You will not sleep with them, though…will you?”
He shook his head and said, “My daughter is missing. If she’s still alive, she will be fifteen. The very idea that I have to do this is beyond repulsive to me. But this missing girl, she is very important to me. She is my lifeline to Alabama, my daughter.”
Katryna seemed to relax even further, but then she hesitated. “What you wore last night with the American blond girl, Cira…that’s what you should wear for your picture. And we should go outside. Our apartment is old and drab, but you can say you are from Belarus visiting your poor cousin. I will be your poor cousin.”
“Okay,” he said, smiling at how friendly she had become.
“Now go put on those clothes.”
He got into last night’s outfit, earned a few curious glances from Maxim, then said hello to Kofi when the younger man came staggering in the kitchen with ten pounds of sleep in his eyes and the kind of morning breath that could drop a bull moose.
“What are you doing?” Kofi asked, blinking back the sleep, trying to see him clearly. “Did you just get back in?”
“No, I slept well. Katryna is helping me set up a Tinder profile.”
He nodded, poured himself some coffee.
Outside, positioning him to be photographed, Katryna changed to English. “There are two ways a man looks handsome for Tinder pictures. If he is looking at camera, he is to be smiling, or have flirtatious look. When he is looking away, he is not to smile, and he is not to have sexy grin.”
“What should it be, then?” he asked.
“Maybe look angry, or like you remember something you despise.”
“There’s so many to choose from,” he said under his breath.
“For me as well.”
They took several photos, a few of them better than others, and then they set up his profile. He’d thought about this all night. Katryna told him what to expect of the girls in Ukraine, but he knew from a myriad of conversations of the region with Jade that money did much of the talking in up-and-coming cities like Odessa and Kiev.
“You need to set me up as a professional UFC fighter,” he told Katryna. She looked at him funny. “That’s the best way to explain the bruising and my bad haircut. It would also give me some notoriety. But make sure you say I live in Belarus and that I like younger women, especially those suffering from commitment phobia.”
“Four pictures is best,” Katryna said in Russian again. “Let them wonder more about you. Give a girl too much and you answer all her questions without ever talking to her. Tell her too little and she will think you’re hiding something. But with just right amount, you inspire curiosity. That is what we want.”
“I don’t want a date,” he said. “I need to be someone’s mark.”
“Mark?”
“Their target. Someone they think they can scam.”
She nodded, then said, “I would want to date you if I were single.”
“I don’t have money, Katryna. I’m not a good person or a nice person. I don’t care about anything but finding this girl, and only because she will hopefully help me get my daughter back.”
“You already told me this.”
“You are a lovely woman, and Kofi is lucky to have you, as is Maxim, but this life you live is not much different from the life I live back in the United States. People are constantly trying to kill me, my beautiful, beautiful wife is having an affair with a twenty-seven-year-old male model, my daughter Alabama was kidnapped four years ago and now I’m forced to do favors for men who could be good or bad, depending on the job. I’m a mess. Perhaps the worst kind. But I’m doing everything I can to find this girl, and to get back home so that none of this blows back on you and your family.”
“Tell that story to your date, and I can almost guarantee she will have sex with you,” she said, almost like the story was exciting to her.
“Wait, what?” he said, momentarily stymied. “That was a turn-on?”
She gave him a genuine smile for the first time, almost like the story that was supposed to keep her at arm’s length was the same story that had drawn her even deeper into him and this case.
Nearly breathless, she said, “Women like men who live adventurous lives.”
“You know Kofi is a man who lives an adventurous life.”
“Yes, but not like you.”
“My adventure has no family, no happy ending. Kofi has you and Maxim. You are lucky.”
Something in her eyes changed. She blinked fast three times then seemed to come back to the moment. It was as though she’d seen his dead stare and was instantly filled with understanding. Now she looked at him the same way he looked at her and Kofi.
“I’m sorry you have this life, if it’s so bad.”
“It is,” he admitted.
“These girls getting hurt, you will avenge them?”
“Yes.”
“You will…kill their abusers?”
“If I have to, yes.”
“Good.”
When his Tinder account was set up, she looked at it like she was proud, and then she said, “Now you wait?”
He nodded and said, “Now I wait.”
“So you will stay with us, then?” she asked. “Lot of things to do around here.”
“How about I get out of your hair?” he asked, not interested in housework. The thought of washing dishes and mopping floors, or heaven forbid, cleaning toilets and bathtubs, had him ticking off the many upsides of solitary confinement. “I can leave you money for food, a way for me to not be a burden on you or your family.”
“That’s not necessary, but thank you.”
“And that is why I’d like to do that for you, and for me. I realize the strain me being here puts on you, Kofi and Maxim, and I won’t allow myself to make your life harder than it already is.”
“What will you do now?”
“I’m going to call Cira.”
“The blond.”
He laughed and said, “Do you think she’s pretty?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation.
“I mean, like, really pretty,” he asked, not sure why he was asking this.
“Why do you want to know so badly?” Katryna asked. “Are you attracted to her?”
He shook his head and said, “Not as much as you think I should be.”
“People have their preferences.”
With that, he opened his Tinder account, smiled, then showed her two women who’d replied to him. She smiled then said, “You know how to use this?”
He shook his head. “I don’t have a clue.”
“If you like her, swipe right, if not, swipe left.”
“How do I know if it’s a scam?”
“Your profile says you want one-night stand with young girl. That means best-looking girl will be running scam.”
“How do you know that?”
“No good woman would be with middle-aged fighter who likes young girls for one-night stands.”
“You make me sound like a jerk.”
“Aren’t you?” She grinned.
He nodded, then said, “Let me change back into my normal clothes.”
“Those clothes will not get you the girl you want.”
“I know this. I need to go shopping with Cira. Is there anything I can do for you before I leave?”
She shook her head, then said, “If you work as hard to find the girl as you work to convince me you’re no good, you will find her. I know this.”
He nodded, really thinking about that. “Thank you, Katryna.”
She went inside while he stood on th
e balcony and phoned Cira.
“It’s early,” Cira said, just waking up.
“You sound hung-over.”
“Why am I naked in bed, and did you tuck me in, or did I dream that?”
“Which answer will make you feel best?”
He heard her groan. “Did you see my tits?”
“Yeah. Your ass, too.”
“God,” she said, hanging up on him.
He looked at his phone, laughed, then dialed her back.
She picked up the phone on the fourth ring. “Can we pretend none of this happened?” she asked.
“If it helps, I had a good time with you last night, and I’ve spent the morning wondering why I woke up here with Kofi and not there with you.”
“Did I…give you the chance?”
“Yeah,” he said after a moment of hesitation.
“And you said no?” she asked.
“I’m a gentleman.”
“So if I wasn’t drunk…”
“Maybe.”
She hung up on him again.
He sent her a text: GET UP AND GET READY, I’M COMING OVER IN HALF AN HOUR. I NEED YOU TO TAKE ME SHOPPING.
He didn’t wait for a reply. He looked up the number of the cabbie he’d used yesterday, Fadey Bondar, and made the call.
“I was waiting for you,” Fadey said in English.
“Can you pick me up in half an hour at the same place you dropped me off last night?”
“Yes, sir, I can do that.”
“Thanks, I’ll see you then,” Atlas said.
Fadey was on time, right down to the minute. They made the short drive to the Continental on Deribasovskaya Street. In minutes, he’d left the true Odessa behind and had now passed into the tourist-friendly, extra-clean version of Odessa. It was as if the sun only shined in this small corner of the city and he was now basking in its spotlight.
When they pulled into the Continental, Atlas said, “Can you wait for a few minutes? I’m picking up a friend and then we’re going shopping.”
“What are you shopping for?” Fadey asked. “Perhaps I can assist?”
“Men’s clothes.”
“I can recommend some places.”
“Sure,” he said, appeasing the man.
“You can go to Fontan Sky Center, where they have lots of popular brand-name clothing as well as art shows and beauty salons for your lady friend.”
“I was thinking of staying closer to the city center, like the touristy places.”
“There is nice shopping mall there, too,” he said. “But if you want to go to touristy place with lots of people—”
“My friend is not my ‘friend,’ if you catch my drift.”
He seemed to think about it and said, “I think I understand. You share conversation but not a bed, or a kiss.”
“Precisely. I want clothes to impress the women of Odessa.”
“There are many beautiful women here.”
“Many scams, too.”
“Yes.”
“Take me where I am likely to get scammed hardest.”
“That would be where the most beautiful women are,” he said, not understanding why Atlas would want to be taken advantage of. “But they are also soulless. I think you call them hustlers.”
He nodded, then said, “What about sex?”
“You want to buy sex?”
“I want to find the man who provides the women I can buy sex from.”
He spun around in his seat and said, “Why did you not say this to me earlier?”
“You can help?”
“I live here,” he said. “I hear things. And sometimes I know things.”
“Do you know a woman named Ruslana?”
“No,” he said.
“Vanko?”
“Yes, I know Vanko.”
Atlas’s heart started pumping. “Personally?”
“Only by reputation, and only through his girls. They use the taxi service a lot, which is how I make much of my living.”
“Hustling Europeans?”
“And Americans, too. But not smart ones like you.”
“I need to find this Ruslana woman. I heard she’s with Vanko.”
Fadey opened his phone, began to scroll through it rather quickly, then turned and showed him probably the best-looking woman he’d ever seen. Ruslana. Now he understood why Mykola had said if he was ever going to cheat on his wife, it would be with Ruslana.
“Wow,” Atlas said, breathless.
“You think she is pretty, but to me she looks like a snake,” Fadey said. “She’ll curl around you, her smile hypnotic, all the while making you feel warm and loved, and then she will squeeze. You won’t feel it at first, or maybe you will misread it. But then she’ll squeeze until she has taken everything you have, right down to the very last breath in your body. That’s how some of these girls can be.”
“Where do I find her?”
“I can put you in touch with one of the girls.”
“Which one?”
“Not her. She is not for sale. And you cannot get her off this site,” Fadey said with confidence.
“But you haven’t even tried.”
“Haven’t I?” he turned in his seat and asked.
Now he got it. The man had tried a time or two with girls like this, or maybe more.
“Well, get me someone who can get close to her.”
“Best-looking girl will be biggest earner, and she will be closest to Ruslana, who you say will be familiar with Vanko.”
The man perused through the many photos, then he smiled and dialed a number. Right then, he watched Cira exit the hotel and start toward him. For some reason, she looked incredibly sexy to him. How had he not seen her like this before? Was he so uptight, so high-strung from his new life situation, that he’d gone completely blind? Then he remembered how she’d looked last night as he was tucking her into bed, and suddenly he thought of Jade. His sweet, unfaithful wife. Jade was gone. She’d left him for another man. Or maybe she wanted to be with many men, if she was anything like Fadey described the women in Odessa to be. He got out of the cab, opened the door for her, then helped her in and slid in next to her.
“You look amazing,” he said.
“Stop,” she told him.
In the front seat, Fadey was talking on the phone. To the girl on the other end, and in Ukrainian, he said, “He is a dumb foreigner, with lots of money to burn and a need for one night of love, maybe two. You will want to talk to him.”
Atlas tracked all this perfectly, nodding his head slowly.
Fadey then turned to Atlas, winked, and asked the girl, “Would you like to talk to him? He has just gotten in my cab.”
Atlas reached out for the phone. Fadey wasn’t ready for the handoff, but he handed him the phone anyway. “Her name is Zoya.”
“Hi Zoya,” Atlas said into the phone. He was speaking in Belarusian. “My name is Aleksander Tarletski.” His Tinder name.
“Hi,” she said, shy.
“This is awkward, but I like your voice,” he said confidently. “You sound young, are you?”
“How old is young to you?”
“Twenty?”
“I’m close. I just turned twenty-three.”
“That’s a good age,” Atlas purred. “I have a friend with me and we’re going to the city center mall.”
“You will like Afina Gallery better,” she said.
“What is that?”
“It’s a seven-story mall with two-hundred shops, plus lots of pretty girls like me.”
“I’m not sure what you look like, but maybe we could meet there?” he asked. “As I said, I’ll have a friend with me.”
“What’s his name?”
“She is a woman, and her name is Cira.”
“Does she like girls?”
He looked over at Cira, who was leaning in close enough to hear the tone of the conversation, even though she didn’t understand a word of it. When he told her Zoya was asking about Cira’s sexual interest i
n other women, the blond sat up and shook her head back and forth, a clear and resounding “no.”
Smiling, Atlas said, “She can go either way, but when you see her, you’ll see why she likes girls better. She is beautiful, very sexy.”
“What about you?” Zoya asked. It sounded like she was at home, but going through a cupboard, or a drawer, or maybe even the medicine chest or the makeup drawer.
“What about me?”
“What do you do for a living?” she asked, audibly balancing the phone between her shoulder and the hinge of her jaw.
“I am a UFC fighter,” he said. “I fight out of Belarus.”
“Do you live there?” she asked, something in her tone changing. “In Belarus?”
“When I’m not training in America, I both train and fight in other places,” he said. “I’m currently preparing for a match in Las Vegas.”
“Do you win a lot?” she asked.
“I win enough to entertain you and a friend.” He covered the phone, then to Fadey, he said, “Take us to Afina Gallery, please.”
“You are polite for an American,” she said, clearly interested in him.
“I’m not American.”
“For a Belarusian who works in America, I mean.”
“Make sure your friend is pretty. And if she likes sexy older blonds, that’ll be a plus.”
“I like blonds,” she teased. “But how much older?”
“Five years older than you.” Before she could scoff at the comment, he said, “Let me ask you something, Zoya. Are you a venturesome girl?”
“I can be,” she said.
“You don’t sound like it now. You sound scared, maybe a bit timid.”
“Maybe you could be a bad guy.”
“Not a bad guy,” he teased. “More like a bad boy. There’s a big difference between the two.”
She laughed, the merry sound both cute and alluring. Turning to Cira, he mouthed the words, “I have her.” Cira rolled her eyes and leaned against the window.
“So you’re a bad boy, so what?”
“I’m adventurous. If we hang out—and I’m not sure we should just yet—but if we do, you’ll have a lot of fun.”
“Why wouldn’t we hang out?”
“Get a car, come to Afina. Maybe we’ll get you something nice.”
“You can’t afford me.”
“If you promise not to fall in love with me, or want to be my girlfriend, maybe I’ll afford you just fine. Your friend, too. So long as she’s cute.”
