One of Us Read Online Free PDF Page A

drink.”
    “You’ll know a few less each year.”
    “Christ, you sound like my wife.”
    I was not sure whether that was an insult to her or to me.
    “Three guesses who that belongs to,” he said, and nodded to a black car parked further down the street, a man who could have been the twin of the circus weightlifter leaning against the side, watching us watching him.
    “Who is that man upstairs?”
    Paul shook his head. “You don’t want to know.”
    “I would not have asked if I did not want to know,” I said. “Corgan looked scared of him.”
    “Corgan?” Paul said. “He’s not scared of anyone.” But he took too many drags on his cigarette, fidgeted his feet too much, and I knew that he was lying.
    “Tell me,” I said. “If I am to be questioned like that I have a right to know who is doing it.”
    Paul blew out a stream of smoke. “No fucker can say his name, so everyone calls him the Ukrainian. And ’cause he is, yeah?”
    I made a face: do I look like someone who needs that explaining?
    “Uh, yeah. Anyway, he’s the man Corgan answers to. Bad fucker he is. If you have any luck you’ll never see him again, and if you have to, if you got any sense you’ll look at the floor and only speak when you’re spoken to. This is the man who runs our whole fucking operation, you know, and Christ knows how many others like it elsewhere, you can just imagine the sort of things he’s done to get to where he is. Or does to stay there.”
    “And this operation is?”
    Paul looked at me, down the street at the big, black car, and then back at me. “Be a love. Shut the fuck up. Don’t ask any questions, and hand out the aspirin when you’re asked to. It’s good advice, trust me on that.”
    A few minutes later the Ukrainian and his bodyguard came out of the house and walked past. Paul straightened up and sucked in his beer belly, as if he was a soldier being inspected at parade time. The Ukrainian ignored him, but stopped at me. Again there was a long stare before he spoke.
    “Where you from?” he said.
    “Vladikavkaz,” I said.
    “Why you here?”
    “Bad choices,” I said.
    He stood and looked at me for a moment, and then turned and walked off towards his car. His driver already had the door open. A few minutes after they had driven away, Corgan came out of the house with the man he called Nicky.
    “Drive her home,” he said to Paul. Then he turned to me. “You never saw him.”
    “I never saw him,” I repeated, like a robot.
    “If you see him again, you know nothing about anything. All you know is you heard us say that Kav was shot by some kid who wanted to deal where we didn’t want him to be dealing.”
    “That’s what I have heard,” I said. “I remember it. Some kid.”
    “Good girl,” Corgan said. He looked very tired. “Now go home.”
    ~
    At my next visit, I was told to sit in a chair against the wall, and I did so, scared of what was about to happen. Another man came into the room, and he told me to relax, and look happy, but don’t smile, even though I would be so much prettier if I smiled, and he took some photographs of me with a Polaroid camera and then he left.
    When I told Kav that I would not need to come back any more, he grinned, blew smoke out of his nose, and shook my hand. “You’re a diamond, pet. Just what I needed. Whenever I touch the scar, I’ll think of you. You can nurse me any time.” He grinned again, and I thought to myself: I am a whore.
    I asked how I could get in touch with Corgan for my payment and he just laughed and said, “You don’t, love. He’ll find you. Just relax and wait. Chill.”
    So I waited, and still I worked for Peter and still I ate the leftover food, and saved up my money. I had not told Sean what I was doing, but he knew that something was going on, all the same. He would ask me how I was, whether everything was all right, and he would hold my gaze for just a moment or two longer than was needed. Sean was never very good at