Page 8 of Savage Warrior

I swallow my revulsion, stiffen my spine, and face the inevitable.

“Can I have the wages up front?”

One cruel, dark eyebrow lifts. “I beg your pardon.”

“I need the money now. My brother and sister will be evicted the day after tomorrow unless I pay the rent today. I can sort things out at home, then come back.”

“I don’t pay in advance,” she informs me.

My heart sinks. I was relying on getting my hands on some cash today, enough to stave off the eviction and put enough food in our cupboards to keep them going until I get back.

“Please, just a few rubles…” We owe the landlord nearly over a thousand rubles, but anything will help.

Zora’s eyes narrow. She regards me with almost palpable contempt, then seems to make up her mind. “Five hundred rubles. That’s it.”

It’s not much, but enough, probably, to let me leave Yuryl and Natalija relatively secure, at least for the few days I’ll be away. Natalija’s a good girl. Capable. It’s not ideal and I hate leaving them, but she can look after Yuryl if she has to. It won’t be for long.

My brittle optimism bubbles to the surface. This might work. It has to work. I’ll tell them they both have to stay in the flat and not attract any attention. If no one knows they’re on their own, and if I come straight back as soon as this ‘job’ is over, maybe no one will ever know.

Whatever, it’s all I’ve got.

“I’ll take it,” I blurt.

Her lip curls. “I know you will. Your sort always do.”

My sort? I ignore the slur, whatever it might be. The loathing is mutual. “When do I leave?”

“Today. This evening.”

I gasp. “So soon. But I need to—”

“Here.” She produces a wad of fifty-ruble notes from within her clothing and peels off ten. “I expect you back here by six, ready to leave. You owe me now, so if you’re late, I will come looking for you and you’ll regret putting me to that trouble.”

I believe it, but that won’t be necessary. I grab the cash and sprint out of there. I have a lot to do in the next few hours.

I’m back on Zora’s doorstep just before six. I’ve paid off some of the rent arrears so we’ve been allowed to stay until the end of the month, there are vegetables in the cupboards and firewood in the hallway. We’re okay for a week or two, and I’ll be back with the rest of my wages in time to pay the next instalment on the rent. Maybe, if this works out and I can stand the humiliation, I could do something similar again.

I left Yuryl guzzling potato pancakes and Natalija sobbing. I hugged her, promised to come back as soon as I could, but in the meantime, I was relying on her to take care of our little brother. She nodded, swore she wouldn’t let me down. I believe her, she never has yet.

I held back my tears until I was out of sight, then I ran down the street to make sure I wasn’t late.

“Wait in here.” Zora bundles me into the dressing room where I got changed before, but there is no gaudy costume awaiting me this time. Nor are there any other girls.

She’s gone before I can ask any questions, so I sink into the closest seat and clutch my bag on my knee. I grabbed a few belongings to bring with me, though it was hard to pack as I have no idea, really, what I’ll need for my new career. I settled for a change of clothes, my hairbrush, soap, a towel, and my toothbrush.

I jerk upright when the door opens again. It’s been about an hour, and I was on the point of going to look for Zora.

Two men enter. I recognise one of them. He was here the last time, working in the bar. His mouth twists in a cruel leer when he sets eyes on me.

“Nice little piece,” he observes, eying me up and down in a way that manages to make my flesh crawl. “I always appreciate a fancy bit of arse.”

I wrap my arms around myself in a protective gesture and get to my feet. “I’m here to work,” I inform him. “In Minsk…”

“You’re here to do as you’re told,” he counters. “Come with us.”

“Where…?”

He grabs my arm and shoves me out of the room, then propels me along the corridor towards the rear of the club. We careen through the bar area where I worked before, and out into the alleyway at the back of the premises. There, a battered Transit waits, the engine idling.

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