CHAPTER 6. FRIDAY, JULY 10, 19:30.
There are good things in life as well as bad. One of the good was meeting Valeriya at the casino. Another was when she agreed to go out with him after her shift.
That date had gone well. At least, she'd agreed to see him again. It had been hard to wait almost a week before seeing Valeriya again. Caramarin felt nervous, almost like a teenager again as his taxi picked Valeriya up from her apartment then headed into town.
Valeriya was wearing a white blouse with a couple of buttons left undone revealing a gold cross resting between her full breasts and tight dark trousers. Her black hair was down around her shoulders this time. She was teetering in glittery killer heels but she still had to draw herself up to her full height to kiss Caramarin.
Standing in the entrance to her apartment block, waving her off, was an older, plumper woman with dyed red hair and a small boy in red shorts. Caramarin watched as the woman took the boy's hand and led him back inside. Just for a moment, he felt a wistful pang for their family life.
"My son," she said defiantly. "My man did a runner years ago, soon after I; we had him."
"He's not been back in touch since?" Caramarin wanted to know if he was treading on any toes.
"No, I got a card from Kiev a few weeks after he left but I've heard nothing after that."
"He was a fool," smiled Caramarin.
"No, just immature. We were both young and it just happened. But I'm glad because I love Vladimir. Only good thing that fella ever did for me."
"He looks a good lad," said Caramarin. You can go a long way by flattering a woman about her children. Valeriya smiled up at him from the back seat.
Caramarin had booked a smart restaurant on Prymorsky Boulevard. It was close to the Opera House and he could see the magnificent over decorated building from his seat. They sat out at a table in the evening sun. The crisp white tablecloth was covered with a variety of cutlery and sparkling crystal glasses. He ordered a bottle of the sparkling local champagne whilst they waited for the food. Valeriya slipped off her heels and he saw she'd gone to the trouble of a pedicure as well. For a girl who spent a lot of time standing at the roulette wheel, she had pretty little feet with delicate toes.
"I hope you're hungry," he said.
"Starving."
He ordered blinis to start. Little pancakes stuffed with pork and olives, a speciality of the restaurant. He was hungry so the flavour filled his mouth. Looking around, he saw some of the passers by glancing enviously at them.
Then, a pan fried sea-bass with vine ripened tomatoes and mushrooms and new potatoes. If anything, even better than the blinis. He was glad to see that Valeriya was enjoying her meal. A crisp, light gold Chardonnay from the Crimea made the perfect combination. He poured her another glass.
Like most Ukrainians, he found Valeriya had a sweet tooth. She ordered a fruit tart with cream but Caramarin only took a couple of mouthfuls, intended to push his around his plate but it was too tasty for that. He could work it off at the gym tomorrow. Looking at her, he wondered where she put it all. On her boobs, probably.
They sat back and relaxed as the waiters cleared their table. He ordered a couple of Finlandia vodkas.
"The best vodka in the world," he told her. "It's made with glacier water."
"I know," Valeriya said.
They sat and watched the people walk along Prymorsky Boulevard past their table. Although the restaurant was busy, none of the waiters even tried to move them on. Caramarin was too well known round here for that. The sun had gone down and the evening sky turned from blue to indigo. A sea breeze blew up from the port below. Valeriya shivered.
"Shall we move on?" Caramarin asked.
She nodded. Caramarin placed some notes under a glass leaving a decent tip and they joined the crowds walking along the boulevard. He draped his jacket over her shoulders and she snuggled into it. Snuggled up to Caramarin, too, when he put his arm around her and drew her closer.
Spotlights illuminated some of the pastel coloured buildings, the baroque statues and ornate detailing creating dark recesses and shadows. A feast for the eyes.
Halfway along Prymorsky Boulevard, they arrived at the Potemkin Stairs leading down to the harbour.
"Shall we?" asked Caramarin.
"Let's. I'm just too full to eat or drink anything else at the moment," said Valeriya.
They stood at the top of the famous Steps. Many other people were walking up and down them enjoying the cooling sea breeze. Behind them, the large toga clad statue of the Duc de Richelieu, the founder of Odessa, stood with his arm out.
"He always looks like he's bumming for spare change," said Caramarin, which made Valeriya smile. "And you'd think he'd have got dressed when they made the statue. He looks like he just got out the bath."
Looking down the wide Steps, they saw the marine terminal and the huge, blue and white tower of the Odessa Hotel almost straight ahead, its name in red neon, like a column of light in the night sky. Trams and trolley-buses were still running along Primorskaya Street at the foot of the Steps.
On either side of the Odessa Hotel, the docks stretched along the curve of the shore as far as the eye could see. A few ships and ferries were out on the Black Sea beyond, seeming to float in the vast darkness.
A noise distracted them. Heading up the slope, on the right side, clanking on its ratchets, was a little cable rail car bringing the last passengers up the steep slope from Primorskaya Street to Prymorsky Boulevard. On the other side of the Steps was a park with plenty of bushes and trees. A nice place to sit on a sunny day.
"Shall we?" said Valeriya.
"Go on, then."
Giggling like children, they jumped onto the cable car, paid the few kopecks fare and took the journey down.
"Have you been to the Hotel?" asked Caramarin.
"Not on my wages," giggled Valeriya.
"Don't get to come here much myself," Caramarin said. Partly that was because its owners were too powerful to pay insurance to Maiorescu or the other medium sharks of the underworld. Probably a lethal great white shark like Major Balashov had it in his pocket. They dodged the trams and trolley buses, crossed over Primorskaya Street to the Hotel.
The concierge opened the door and bowed. Caramarin tipped him a few hryvnia and then they were in. Took the lift up to the restaurant at the top of the tower. Caramarin nipped to the toilets and sniffed a little Colombian jazz powder, just to heighten the experience. Not that he was nervous or anything. Straightened his tie; rubbed his nose, made sure there was no tell tale residue and back out.
In the bar, they talked and enjoyed a couple of Absolut vodkas looking at the breathtakingly panoramic view from the windows. The night lights of Odessa spread out below them. The windows facing the Black Sea were dark but those overlooking the city were a riot of colour like jewels on a sheet. He watched the tail lights thread along the dock road of Primorskaya Street. Fucking marvellous.
Valeriya told him a little about herself. She used to be a dancer in the nightclubs.
"Which ones?" Caramarin asked, thinking he might have seen her.
"Club Dolphin, over by Dolphin beach," she replied. Not one that Caramarin used to go to. Didn't know if he was pleased not to have seen her dance.
"What sort of dancing did you do?"
Valeriya looked down at her feet and stroked her ear.
"I did some cage dancing and some pole dancing. But I never did any private dances. No way," she quickly added. Caramarin wondered about that. But he'd also done things he wasn't proud of, too.
Then, she hooked up with her useless fella, got pregnant with Vladimir, so she'd given up dancing.
"He was a big baby so my stomach never really recovered," she said sadly. Caramarin glanced down, it looked all right to him but the trouble was, there was no shortage of eager ever younger women for the nightclub owners to choose from. And sleep with if the fancy took them.
"Then my useless fella left me. Said I wasn't the same any more. Well, I couldn't be, could I? Got a baby. But it was his problem. He couldn't take the responsibility of looking after a baby. Didn't help that we were all still living in Mum's apartment and we had no space to ourselves."
She blushed a little, her face even more lovely.
"And little Vlad cried during the night.
"Then I took a couple of years out. Worked as a cleaner for a while in some offices. My mum really helped me through that time. Then, a few months ago a friend had a word and I was taken on by the casino as a croupier, I really love my job."
"Well, your smile helped me win the other night."
Like most men, Caramarin didn't like talking about himself. And in his case, it was only the very edited highlights he could tell her. There was just too much he couldn't tell anyone. Too much dark water under too many low bridges. If she was interested, she'd find more out from the other doormen. Actually, being a woman, she probably already had.
They finished their vodkas. Set the glasses down on little paper napkins on the little table. He nipped to the gents and took another short line, just to keep the good feeling going. He caught his reflection and laughed.
"Shall we go?" asked Caramarin. They walked out of the Hotel Odessa into the cool night air. He glanced at his watch. It was later than he thought and the little cable car had finished for the night. He felt good, felt wired in fact.
They stood at the foot of the Potemkin Stairs.
"It's amazing," said Caramarin. The coke was buzzing through his system, tingling his nerves, loosening his tongue.
"You know that when you stand at the bottom of the Steps like we are and look up you can't see the treads of the steps; only the risers and when you stand up at the top you can only see the landings and not the risers. It's a really great optical illusion."
Valeriya glanced at him.
"I know, I've lived here all my life," she said.
"Let's go," said Caramarin.
"What? Up there? There's two hundred steps,"
"They look longer than they are. Another illusion. C'mon, I'll buy you a last drink at the top."
Valeriya sighed. "What are you on?"
"Nothing. Honest."
They linked arms and walked up. Soon, Valeriya slipped off her killer heels. She was so much shorter without them. At this time of night there were far fewer people using the Stairs. Caramarin threw a few kopecks to a down and out, who grunted his thanks. Paused half way up to admire the viewpoints. Valeriya yawned.
Back on Prymorsky Boulevard, at the top of the Stairs, Caramarin was as good as his word. They had a last Absolut before he called a cab.
They shared a few kisses in the taxi, he tasted the alcohol and exhaustion on her breath. Didn't expect to be invited into her apartment so wasn't too disappointed. But there would be another time.