blue-painted three-storied building. The huge letters on the sign screamed, “DIORAMA. Night Club. Restaurant. Bowling”.
At the club entrance, the guard saw Vassili and the other guys and flashed a welcoming smile and shook their hands. The whole gang entered the club without passing any face control. The club boasted two spacious dance halls. A DJ girl in a ponytail was busy behind her equipment, flooding every nook and cranny with music. Striptease dancers were polishing the silver-colored poles with their half-naked buttocks, caressing their nipples. A bald barman in a crimson-colored shirt and with stylish sunglasses on his head was shaking a cocktail over his shoulder. Tequila, wine, and vodka were pouring down the throats of numerous customers. Pretty waitresses wearing pink miniskirts and cute white hats with bunny ears were going back and forth carrying trays and serving the guests.
Steve looked around. “Not bad.”
They sat on a long couch in a lounge.
Vassili introduced the Americans to his Russian friends they met in the club.
A waitress came up to them with bottles of champagne. Everyone helped himself and poured the champagne into glasses.
“Here’s to Steve and Ramses,” Vassili said, raising the glass. “The best fighters across the Atlantic Ocean!”
Steve chuckled and raised his glass. “And to Vassili, the best sports manager in Russia!”
They downed their champagne.
“Okay, guys,” Vassili said. “Again – welcome to Russia!”
“I’m happy we’re working together,” Steve said.
Vassili looked over Steve’s shoulder and spotted a dancing girl he seemed to like. He combed his hair with the palm of his hand. “Now you must excuse me. Enjoy your time here.”
A song with Russian folk rhythms was playing, and Vassili approached the girl doing the Cossack dance routine.
“Have fun, Romeo!” Steve shouted to him.
Vassili jumped up and joined the dancing girl. He said something to her, and she laughed. Other athletes went to the dance floor, too.
Steve put down his glass on the tray and thanked the waitress.
“Now, Baryshnikov,” he said to Ramses. “How about you? You ready to demonstrate your kung-fu, Russian ballet-style?”
“Get out.” Ramses smiled and gave him a slight punch in the shoulder. “Yeah, man. Let’s have fun.”
“Cowabunga!” Steve said and rose to his feet.
They went to the bar, sat at the counter and ordered cocktails. They did not want to get drunk that night. They had to be in top form in the morning.
A beautiful woman in a long black evening dress sat on a bar stool near Steve. She was a thirtyish brunette with curly hair.
“Well, hi, gentlemen!” she said.
Ramses nodded. “Privet!”
“You speak English?” Steve asked her.
“Just so much I have managed to grab at school and college,” she said. “So, my English is not good enough.”
“It’s not bad either,” Steve said. “But I’ll down my level of eloquence. Still, it’s always pleasant to be able to speak in a foreign country in one’s native language. What’s your name?”
He looked into her blue eyes, which were like two huge wells full of clear water.
“Lena,” she said.
“Nice to meet you, Lena. I’m Steve. And this big chunk of flesh here is Ramses.”
Ramses rolled his eyes. Lena smiled.
Steve dived into the conversation as he always did well, and it was obvious the evening was looking promising for him.
Ramses looked at them, a sad smile playing on his lips. He was drinking his cocktail and thinking about how he had met his ex-wife at a party like this. He shook his head and tried to wipe the sad look off his face.
The DJ announced a white dance, and Lena asked Steve to dance.
“What’s a white dance?” Steve asked her.
“It’s when ladies ask the gentlemen to dance,” Lena said.
“Oh, how nice,” Steve said and got up. “Okay, let’s go Sadie Hawkins.”
While dancing, he whispered something funny into her ear. She seemed to get his jokes and threw back her head laughing.
After the dance, Lena went to the bathroom. Steve sat on a high stool next to Ramses.
“Sorry, pal,” Steve said, “but I think I’m gonna leave this party earlier.”
“Listen up, man,” Ramses leaned closer to his friend. “You positive she’s not a hooker or something?”
“Why are you saying so? Can’t you see she fancies me?”
“All right,” Ramses said. “Just keep your eyes peeled.”
Steve is like a young horse after his divorce, Ramses thought with a smile. He’s shooting everything he sees.
Lena came back.
Steve stood up. “Okay. See you at the hotel.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Lena said to Ramses.
“Yeah, you too,” Ramses said. “Be seeing ya!”
Steve said goodbye to his Russian colleagues and led Lena out of the dance hall.
Ramses was sitting alone at the bar counter like a deceased pharaoh in a sealed vault. There were people around him, but he was feeling lonely. Maybe the famous Russian spleen was taking over him as well? He glanced at the dancing people. Vassili was already making a play for another girl.
Ramses turned to the barman. “Can I get a martini, please?”
“No problem,” said the barman in good English. He made the drink in no time and set it before Ramses.
“What’s your name?” Ramses asked.
“It’s Roman.”
“Roman, like in Polanski?”
“Yep. You like his movies?”
Ramses nodded. “He has a couple of decent ones, all right. I like ‘Rosemary’s Baby’ most of all.”
“A good flick. You’re from the States?”
“Yah, straight from California.”
“Wow. California rocks! From L.A.?”
“Was
