The guys came back to the table. The girls didn’t stop. They danced playful. They did the swim. The mashed potato. The twist. They vogued. They mimicked John Travolta and Uma Thurman dancing in Pulp Fiction. They did it well. People applauded. The girls grooved on the attention.
“The Russians are here,” Milo said. Two men walked away from the bar. One carried a bottle of Smirnoff in a champagne bucket.
The girls came back, then went for so-called nose powdering.
“How in the fuck did you guys pick up those two girls?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Milo said, “they’re a little out of our league. Mirjami is my cousin. She’s got a thing for cops. Plus, I flash my cop card and get us in places so she doesn’t have to wait in lines or sometimes even pay, and she’s my chick magnet. I like going out with her because it gives the impression that I’m cool enough to get a girl that gorgeous, and we’re pretty good friends, too.”
“And I guess they don’t card her if she’s with you.”
“She’s twenty-two, she doesn’t need me for that.”
“Jesus, I thought she was a kid.”
“That’s just her club thing. She works at it. Actually, she’s a registered nurse and more mature than I am. That’s for sure.”
“Same with me,” Sweetness said. “Jenna is my cousin, and she’s only sixteen.” He went all glum, knocked off a kossu.
I had the girls’ ages backwards. “What’s with the sad face?”
“I like her a lot. You know, not like a cousin.”
“Bummer,” I said.
He nodded. “Yeah. And what’s worse, I think she likes me, too. We just can’t do anything about it. Plus, she’s so young.”
The girls were on their way back. The Russians lucked out and got a table two down from ours. I changed the topic. “When they get halfway through the bottle, let’s make the snatch.”
“I can do it alone,” Milo said. “It won’t look obvious that way.”
“You sure?” I asked.
He rolled his eyes. “It’s going to take, like, two minutes.”
“Is Kate mad at me?” Sweetness asked.
“For what?”
“What I said. It’s the truth. I ain’t got nothin’ against niggers.”
“No, she’s not mad. Just don’t say ‘nigger’ in English or she’ll get furious. And in Finnish, call them ‘black people.’ How did you get to be such a good dancer?”
“I took lessons when I was a kid. Mom made me.”
The girls sat down. “I’m kind of afraid to go back home today,” Jenna said. She looked like a child with huge breasts.
“Why?” I asked.
“I live in East Helsinki, and it ain’t safe there.” Her eyes met Sweetness’s and I saw affection there. He was right about that.
The Russians drank fast. Their bottle stood half empty. Milo excused himself. When he came back, he brought more drinks.
I watched the news earlier. Anger over the bank robbery murder, in addition to Vappu boozing, equaled vandalism and violence. Drunken whites had beaten blacks, knocked out storefront windows, burned a couple cars. A black girl was even raped. Blacks had retaliated.
“We’ll get you home safe,” I said.
The Russians finished the vodka bottle, turned it upside down in the ice bucket and left.
Mirjami kicked off her flip-flops and propped her feet up in my lap. I was too embarrassed to move and my dick went stiff again. She felt it and giggled. She wiggled her toes against it to tease me. I liked it, stroked her brown feet. She liked it. She was chewing bubble gum. She blew a bubble until it got so big that it exploded in her face. Pow! She laughed and picked it off her cheeks.