Open-handed

by Chris Binchy

  ‘Yeah, I don’t feel great.’

  ‘Are you back? Because you’ll still have to pay us rent for that couch.’

  ‘I’m not back. I was out with Artur and some girls.’

  He knew that Basil was the smaller one but without the other around it was hard to tell which this was. There was no scar. It was Andrzej.

  ‘What did you get up to?’

  ‘Not much,’ Artur called from the kitchen. ‘He didn’t score with Basia.’

  ‘I didn’t know that was possible,’ Andrzej said. ‘Are you gay?’

  ‘No, I’m not,’ Marcin said, sitting up now.

  ‘Because that girl will fuck anything. What’s wrong with you?’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with me,’ Marcin said.

  ‘He fell asleep,’ Artur said. ‘We left them on the couch getting cosy, and twenty minutes later she calls up to Katja to tell her that this guy’s passed out and she’s getting a taxi home.’

  ‘Too drunk?’

  ‘No. I was just tired. I’d worked ten nights straight.’

  ‘Ah, work. For Christ’s sake, are you a man? I work seventy hours a week and I’d still fuck a girl any time if the opportunity was there. And Basia is always that opportunity. I’d hang up my cock if I were you. You obviously don’t need it.’

  ‘He needed it at four o’clock when he had a piss in the garden.’ Artur came in bringing a coffee to him.

  ‘I have to say,’ Marcin said, ‘this is a nightmare way to wake up.’

  ‘Where’s my fucking bread gone?’ Andrzej called from the kitchen. ‘Ask that scarecrow if he ate it.’

  ‘I’m going,’ Marcin said.

  41

  Agnieszka bought a second phone, exactly the same model as her own. She stuck a small silver star on the back of it so she would be able to tell them apart. If Victor ever found the two together she would say she had inadvertently picked up someone else’s at work. It was an easy mistake, a cheap popular phone. She saved Julia’s number on it without putting in her name.

  She was still in bed in her own place one afternoon when the call came. Julia gave her the address, the contact name and hotel-room number. The client didn’t use a mobile but was a regular, and was reliable, safe and clean. A good-looking guy, according to Julia. Liked foreign girls. Didn’t drink. Urbane and charming. But very private.

  ‘I’m very private too,’ Agnieszka said.

  ‘We all are,’ Julia said, ‘but this man in particular. Don’t ask him anything. I’ll give you a call to confirm he’s there five minutes before the time. It’s usually around midnight.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘And then you ring me when you arrive, just to let me know that everything’s all right.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You walk across the lobby, take the lift to the fifth floor and knock on the door. If anyone tries to stop you or asks you where you’re going, say you’re looking for Ray and he’ll take care of you. Nobody will, though. We’ve never had any problems in this place.’

  ‘But what do I do if there are?’

  ‘There won’t be.’

  ‘But if there are?’

  ‘I’m telling you. There won’t be.’

  The patience in Julia’s tone annoyed Agnieszka. ‘I need more than that,’ she said. ‘If something goes wrong I have to know that there is a plan to help me. You must take me seriously on this. I’m going into this hotel on my own. I’m vulnerable. Just because this man has been okay before doesn’t mean he always will be. I don’t want to be a lesson for you. If I’m going to do this job you have to look after me properly.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Julia said. ‘It’s just that this man is very nice and respectable and really doesn’t want to cause a fuss. But of course if anything goes wrong we’ll be able to help you.’

  ‘How? What do I do?’

  ‘Ring me.’

  ‘And what will you do?’ There was a pause for a second. ‘Julia?’

  ‘Sorry. I missed that.’

  ‘What will you do if I ring you?’

  ‘I will have the hotel staff at the door in a couple of minutes. I have a mobile number for Ray. He won’t let anything bad happen to you. I promise that.’

  ‘A couple of minutes?’ Agnieszka said.

  ‘Listen to me. If you’re in this business there is always going to be a chance that something might go wrong. Just as there is in every job. You could be working in an office and one of your co-workers might attack you. I can’t tell you that there is zero risk because that’s not true. What I can tell you is that there has never been a problem. It’s highly unlikely that this man will ever do anything to bring attention to himself. And if, despite that, something does go wrong, I can have someone with you in a few minutes’ time. It’s a matter of probability. I know you’re concerned but, really, there won’t be a problem. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ Agnieszka said.

  ‘He’s a lovely man by all accounts. You might even enjoy yourself.’

  ‘Okay,’ Agnieszka said.

  ‘I’ll talk to you later, darling.’

  At a quarter to twelve Agnieszka was in a taxi on the way to the hotel. She was dressed tidily, respectably, more as if she was going to a work event than a night out, as she had been instructed. Her phone rang as they stopped at traffic-lights.

  ‘He’s there now, waiting for you,’ Julia’s voice said.

  ‘Okay. I’ll be a couple of minutes.’

  ‘Lovely. Thanks, pet. Good luck.’

  They turned into the driveway and drove through gardens that felt almost tropical in the damp warmth of the evening. They pulled up outside and she paid the driver. The lobby area seemed to be empty. She opened the door, felt the coolness of the air and saw the lift doors straight ahead, twenty metres away. She walked towards them, head down, steady and not too fast. She didn’t look to either side but was aware of music playing and thought she could hear people talking quietly off to her left. She arrived at the lifts and pushed the button for up. A bell dinged and in front of her doors opened. She saw herself in the mirrored wall of the lift, pale and unhappy. As she stepped in someone crossed the lobby without turning in her direction.

  On the fifth floor she came out into a landing and saw in which direction she had to go. She walked along the empty corridor, phone in her hand, feeling sick. In an hour she would walk out of here and nothing in the world would have changed. Nobody would know what had happened except her and a man she would never see again. She would go home, have a shower and a large drink, and in the morning the only thing that would be different would be the amount of money in her bag. A week’s salary from nowhere. She’d forgotten plenty in her life. She could forget this. Outside the room she stood for a moment and then, before she could think again, knocked twice.

  The door opened and a tall, clean-looking man stood smiling at her. ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘Had you any trouble finding the place?’

  She was exquisite, this one. Sylvester felt the smile spread across his face when he saw her, sheer joy at what he knew was coming. He stood back and let her pass into the room. Watched her tight arse under a black skirt.

  ‘Can I take your jacket?’ he said, and helped her as she shrugged it off.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  ‘What’s your name?’ he asked.

  ‘Anneka,’ she said.

  ‘Is that Scandinavian? Swedish or something?’

  ‘No. From Slovakia.’

  He cocked his head at her.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes.’ She seemed nervous. He never knew why questions about where they came from unsettled them. The whole exchange was based on lies anyway. There was nothing to worry about.

  ‘It’s just I’ve been in Slovakia quite often. In Bratislava. I do a bit of work there,’ he said.

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘It’s a great place. Underrated.’

  ‘I didn’t like it,’ she said. ‘I’m glad I’m not th
ere any more.’

  He laughed at her. ‘Fair enough,’ he said. ‘I’m sure you have your reasons.’ He ran the back of his hand along her cheek. Her skin was tanned and her dark hair, almost black, was cut in a way that framed her face beautifully. ‘You are something,’ he said. Delicate bones in her face. He could see the shape of her neck from where he was standing. She was long-limbed and thinner than he would usually like, but there was something in the way that she was looking at him, something latent that he thought augured well. It could go either way, and if he had to take charge he would.

  ‘I have to make a call,’ she said.

  ‘Be quick.’ She walked into the bathroom and dialled a number in the darkness.

  ‘Hi,’ she said. ‘It’s me. I’m here. Okay.’

  She came back out and walked over to where he was standing. She looked up at him but didn’t speak. He bent to her face and kissed her, opening her mouth with his tongue. After a second she began to kiss him back. He stopped thirty seconds later, afraid he might fall over.

  ‘Is that okay?’ he asked, smiling close to her.

  ‘Whatever you want.’ She said it with something close to contempt.

  ‘Get on the bed,’ he said. She sat there in front of him and then, unasked and with no showmanship or ceremony, began to unbutton her shirt and lifted it over her head. She stood, unzipped her skirt at the side and pushed it down until it fell at her feet. She kicked it away and sat again.

  ‘Let me look at you,’ he said. He knelt between her legs and put his hands on her thighs. ‘I’m going to fuck you into next week,’ he said, and when he saw the expression on her face it turned him on in a way that felt new.

  An hour later he got up from the bed.

  ‘You’ve got to go,’ he said. She dressed quickly and went to the bathroom to check herself in the mirror. While she was there he took out his wallet and counted the fifties on to the bed. She came back in and saw what he was doing. As she watched he counted out an extra hundred.

  ‘For your trouble,’ he said. She nodded. He picked up the money and handed it to her. ‘Don’t talk to anyone on the way out. Just get away from here as quick as you can.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I know.’

  She left, and after a minute Sylvester lay back on the bed and looked at the ceiling, replaying everything he had just done.

  42

  The room-service phone rang when Marcin was in the kitchen loading glasses into the dishwasher. He ran, trying to answer before anyone at the front desk could get it. When he said hello there was silence, then a man’s voice ordered six bottles of beer. Slurring. Mix of officiousness and politeness. Marcin checked the room number on the computer. The guest was alone. He went to the bar, got a tray and the beer together, then took the lift up to the man’s room. He could hear the television from down the corridor. When he knocked nothing changed. He knocked again, louder, and the sound stopped. Nothing happened. When he was about to go the door opened.

  ‘Oh,’ the man said, looking at Marcin, squinting, swaying slightly. ‘Oh, yeah. Excellent. That’s great.’ He was wearing suit trousers and a jacket but no shirt or shoes. He stood back and Marcin stepped into the room. The desk was covered with napkins.

  ‘Where should I put it?’ he asked.

  ‘Anywhere. Put it on the floor.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘No problem. Right there.’ Marcin bent at the knee and set the tray on the ground. When he stood up the man was staring at him. He was very drunk.

  ‘Okay,’ Marcin said.

  ‘So what… em…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘What happens now?’

  Marcin smiled. ‘Do you want to sign for it?’

  ‘How much is it?’

  ‘Thirty euro.’

  ‘I’m never going to drink all these.’

  ‘Put them in the fridge. Have them tomorrow.’

  ‘Nah. Do you want a couple?’

  ‘I’m fine, thanks. Do you want to sign now?’

  ‘I’ll sign.’

  Marcin moved towards the door. The man handed him back the docket. ‘I’m on my own now and the others aren’t coming.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ Marcin said. ‘You’ll be fine.’

  ‘I hope so.’ He reached into his pocket, pulled out a note and handed it to Marcin. It was a twenty. ‘You’ve been very good to me.’

  ‘That’s the job.’

  ‘No. Come on. Take it.’

  Marcin took it.

  ‘Good night,’ he said, and closed the door.

  He laughed to himself in the corridor, putting the note into his wallet and waiting for the lift. He was thinking he would tell the others, but that it would be a ten that the man had given him. The lift stopped on the fifth floor. Marcin assumed it would be one of the others, but it wasn’t. It was a dark-haired girl, maybe in her mid-twenties. Good-looking, he thought, as she passed, but it was very quick. She stepped in. ‘Ground floor?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes. Thank you,’ she said.

  He stood beside the door and she was behind him. It was only ten seconds but the silence felt like a long time. When the doors opened he let her go out first. As she passed he looked at her but she didn’t notice him. She walked across the lobby in a straight line towards the door. Marcin hesitated, as if he had forgotten something, then realized what it was. He smiled and followed her out through the revolving doors and down the drive towards the main road. She was walking faster now and Marcin ran a little to catch up with her. She didn’t turn around.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, when he was near enough. ‘Sorry. Excuse me.’

  ‘What do you want?’ she said. ‘I have to go. I’m late.’

  ‘Agnieszka. I’m Marcin Duda. I was the year behind you in school.’

  ‘Please leave me alone. I have to go. You go back inside.’ She spoke in English. She was still walking but turned to him now, then slowed down and stopped. It was her. There was no mistake. He knew her well. Even if he hadn’t talked to her very often. Even if it was ten years since he’d seen her.

  ‘Sorry. I don’t mean to hassle you. I just wanted to say hello.’

  ‘I have to go,’ she said. ‘I’m really late.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I just realized it was you and I thought that was so weird. I haven’t seen you in years.’

  ‘Yeah. I remember you. How are you?’

  ‘Fine. You know.’ He was suddenly aware of his uniform. Standing in the street with the hotel rising up behind him. ‘Doing this. It’s not the best job but I’m trying to find something else. How about you?’

  ‘Good. Everything’s good.’

  ‘Are you working here?’

  She hesitated. He saw now that she really didn’t want to be there talking to him. They were standing on a street in Dublin in the middle of the night, nobody else around, two people from the same town a thousand miles away and she just looked like she wanted to run away.

  ‘I’m working, yeah.’

  ‘You have to go,’ he said. ‘Sorry again. I just wanted to say hello. It’s good to see you.’

  ‘’Bye,’ she said.

  He turned back towards the hotel. Why had he thought that chasing after her was a clever idea?

  She spoke suddenly behind him, closer than he would have thought. ‘Marcin.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Can you not tell anyone you saw me here? I mean people at home. I haven’t been there for a while and it’s just difficult. I’d prefer it.’

  ‘Yeah. Sure,’ he said.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I should have let you go. I shouldn’t have come out and frightened you. It was just the surprise.’

  ‘Sure. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you. I was surprised too.’ He smiled at her. ‘I haven’t been there in years. Really years.’

  ‘Where did you go?’

  ‘I travelled around. What have you been doing?’

  ‘Went to college. Came here. That’s it, really.’

&nbs
p; ‘Okay. I’d better leave. Thanks, Marcin. It was nice to see you.’

  ‘And you.’

  He went back inside. Tommy had been watching him through the window.

  ‘Do you know that girl?’ he asked. Marcin didn’t know what to say. He thought and then thought again. ‘It’s not a complicated question,’ Tommy said. ‘I don’t really care.’

  ‘I kind of know her. I’ve met her before.’

  ‘Fine thing.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘She looks like she’d be a bit of fun. You should start saving up. It’d be money well spent.’ It took Marcin a second to work out what he meant.

  43

  In Prague it was all business in the buildings during the day, looking at plans and asking questions that Marek answered with confidence. Sylvester stood back and let him do his work. They talked to architects and builders, then into the car off to a meeting in the bar at the Four Seasons with some planning official who told them exciting, surreptitious things they shouldn’t know, but friends of Mr Soldán were entitled to a little extra. Marek sat smiling at the show he was delivering. They were all smiling now, moving silently towards an understanding that things were going to happen.

  But at night it was tiresome. Sylvester could do it. Deliver the spiel, stay on message, ask the questions. He could listen to the long, shapeless answers that only ever communicated the speaker’s desire to be heard. He could slap the backs, laugh the laughs, tell the jokes and talk about money in the right kind of terms with knowledge and detail but, above all, with respect. He pitched his tone right for the laddish vibe, the steak and potatoes in deep-pile restaurants with curtains that swooped and glass that sparkled and waiters that sneered. More booze than anyone could handle. The loudest table everywhere they went. Would you do that at home? Sylvester wondered, as he watched one of them hop a bread roll off Breen’s head in the best restaurant in Prague. But that was hardly the point. They were away. Into the limos after this and off for some fun. God, it was tedious.

  When his energy dipped, when he realized that the night was still young and hours would pass before he’d get to bed, his frustration sought a target and found Dessie. Damn him for not coming. It wasn’t just that the workload would have been cut by his presence. Sylvester missed the note he brought to these evenings, the laconic ego-deflating punch lines that somehow never caused offence but kept everybody in their boxes, defining the borders of acceptable behaviour. Little foul-mouthed bursts of sarcasm that were distributed evenly and were accepted with pleasure by the multitude. No smile on his face, just a tremor in his hand that communicated his enjoyment as he brought a small glass of brown liquid to his lips. He was like a goat among cattle, irascible and curmudgeonly, quick to move on any bit of nonsense, but there for the good of the party and appreciated for it. Sylvester didn’t know how much he made in tips from these expeditions but it was well earned.