Cold Blood by Alex Shaw Page B

at the best table for the best view. This he knew he got from his mother, who was forever hurrying his father up. Again he looked at the watch even though it was set five minutes fast – a fact that he could not forget – she was now ten minutes late. He’d give her ten more and then leave to find Aidan and the others. Aha! There she was! Trying to suppress his excitement and growing bulge in his jeans, Arnaud walked forward to meet Larissa.
    “Hello there!”
    “Hi,” Larissa replied, looking him up and down. What was he wearing?
    “You’re a bit late. Did you have to wait for a train or something?” he enquired, leaning forward in an attempt to kiss her lips. She turned her cheek.
    “No. Where are we going?”
    “Where are you going to take me?”
    She looked him in the eyes. “You are going to take me to Le Grande Café.”
    “What’s that?”
    She looked shocked. “You don’t know what Le Grande Café is?”
    “No,” he lied.
    “It’s the best French restaurant in Kyiv.” Surely he was playing?
    “I thought we’d go somewhere Ukrainian?” he asked hopefully. Le Grande Café, he had heard from Michael, was as pricey as they came, and according to Snow survived primarily on the custom of New Ukrainians and corporate expense accounts.
    “I hate Ukrainian food,” she replied and took his arm. They walked to the side of the road where she hailed a taxi.
    *
    Rock Café , Kyiv
     
    Mitch Turney leant back in his chair and exhaled cigar smoke. “I’ve forgotten. You ever been to California, bud?”
    Snow lowered his glass. “I’ve seen Baywatch.”
    Turney nodded and took another drag on his Havana. “Let me tell you, those women are pigs compared to here, baaabbbyy.”
    “Your ex-wife included?”
    “My ex-wife especially.”
    Mitch Turney, country manager for Perry & Roe was a sleek, forty-two year old Californian who had been in Kyiv a year longer than Snow. Having just negotiated an eighteen month extension to his expatriation he was in a celebratory mood. Having already consumed half a bottle of imported tequila before Snow arrived and the rest after, he showed no sign of slowing down. The second bottle arrived. At over $60 a go, this made both waitress and bartender, who were anticipating a large tip, smile.
    Turney continued, “Don’t misunderstand me man. I mean they take care of themselves there, but in the US you need a second mortgage to pay for all the damn cosmetics.” He stubbed out the cigar and cast Snow a look out of the corner of his eye. “So when are you going to hang up your chalk and get a proper job?”
    “When are you going to stop selling sugar water?” Snow poured him a shot.
    “Never.” He raised his glass. “I’ll make you a deal. You teach the kids how to drink my cola and I’ll promise to become a feminist.”
    “Deal,” replied Snow.
    Mitch necked Mexico’s finest. “I’ve often thought of myself as a Butch Lesbian. Speaking of which, I got an email from Donna.”
    Snow put his empty shot glass on the table. Donna was his ex-girlfriend. It hadn’t ended well; she had dumped him. Snow folded his arms, a subconscious show of defence and insecurity, the old regiment shrink would have told him. “What earth-shattering statement did she make this time?”
    Mitch frowned and poured two more shots. “She invited me to her wedding.”
    Snow was stunned; it had been just a year since they had split. “Who’s the unlucky guy?”
    “Aidan, come on man, don’t be bitter. She wasn’t for you. Call it fate, call it Karma. Yeah, Karma, things happen. My ex-wife and I split – Karma.”
    “I thought that was Carnal?”
    Mitch laughed. “Yeah that was Carnal; I wanted to sleep with someone else. The point I’m making is you were too good for her.”
    “Er, thanks Mum.”
    Mitch placed a hand on his buddy’s shoulder. “Aidan man, you just gotta believe in Karma. Until then, hey, join me in seeking out the Carnal!”
    Smile back in place, both men