The New York Doll (18 page)

- Well, I was thinking to ask Margarita to be my manager. She’s a smart girl and she’s very nice to me, and she won’t steal from me, I’m sure.

- Margarita? The massage girl Margarita? – I couldn’t believe that a 40-year-old man just suggested having a massage girl from a strip club to be his restaurant manager. – Honey, have you thought of the fact that your manager’s main quality should be experience in the business and not the fact that she’s a nice person?

- I haven’t thought of that…

- I bet you didn’t. Sometimes I get a feeling that you don’t think at all.

- I just want to be a businessman. I want to make a lot of money so you would marry me.

“I wouldn’t marry your stupid ass even if you were on the cover of “Forbes” magazine!” – I thought to myself but didn’t say anything, as Coconut was my most reliable customer despite all his stupidity, and who knew how business was going to be after the hurricane. It all wasn’t looking too good…

- Anyway, I gave the owner of that restaurant $70K deposit, just to show my serious intentions, and he promised not to cash the check until we sign the deal.

“Kiss that money goodbye,” – I smirked and took another big sip. Couple of more months of dealing with this guy and I’ll become an alcoholic.

- He wants to sell it for $700K, and he promised me the protection from all the bad guys in the area. – Coconut was excited like a five-year-old, who was putting milk and cookies for Santa and telling his parents how he’s going to catch him. – He was trying to scare me; he was sitting across the table, such a big tough guy, smoking a cigar and talking like some mafia guy from the movies…But I’m not scared. I’m a tough guy too.

- You got scared of Alana not too long ago.

- Yes, and you called me a chicken. I’m not going to be a chicken anymore, you want me to be tough, so I’ll be tough from now on.

“I want you to be smart too, but it doesn’t seem to work out too well either.” – I couldn’t help but crack a little laugh; this job made me such a sarcastic bitch, that my own remarks I was making up in my head while listening to all the bullshit from my customers, were making me laugh better than any stand-up comedians.

I got very drunk that night. But I made good money and it would make up for the next day’s hangover. I felt bad for my body, but listening to Coconut sober was something that was impossible to do. Sorry, not sorry.

Chapter 25

It’s a pretty well-known stereotype that you see on a daily basis: a beautiful, teen-something or twenty-something model looking, well-groomed young lady by the hand with an older, sometimes shorter, but very expensively dressed gentleman. It’s in the movies, commercials, on the internet, TV shows, among celebrities…let’s face it, it’s everywhere and most of the time it’s mocked and being perceived by many as something negative. Meanwhile, let me tell you the truth about what society calls “gold-diggers” and “young flesh hunters”.

From the historical and anthropological point of view, there is nothing more natural than a young beautiful lady making a decision to spend the rest of her life with an older, mature, experienced man who does well in life. Let’s face it: even in the animal world, what do males do? They fight with each other in order to occupy the position of a leader in their pack, and the leader has to prove to the pack his abilities to protect his family and to bring food every single day. Why do males do that? In order to mate with any female of their choice in that pack. And females in their turn will naturally choose a healthy, big, strong and assertive pack leader to reproduce their offspring with, rather than some smaller and less successful member of the pack.

Humans evolved, yes, but our instincts still determine our behavior every single day. We need to eat, but instead of hunting for food, we go to work and make money to buy it. And that hunter, who brings the most money, can bring all the food he wants, and not only food, but also clothes and a shelter. And when a young female has to choose who she would rather have her offspring with, the best “hunter” or a cab driver with an annual income of $25K…she will first think of her kids, who will have to eat good, organic food instead of some “buck-a-bucket” junk, wear cool, limited edition sneakers and go to a private school so they can become president when they grow up. Believe me, the choice will be obvious. A lot of those unsuccessful “cab driver species” though complain a lot that women are all about the money. But due to the lack of education or any particular goals in life, they don’t see the fine line between the money itself and what a person behind all those assets represents: women tend to choose the “best hunters” simply because they respect what they’ve achieved in life, they respect a strong personality that made that particular “hunter” so successful, they want that strong genetic code to be passed on to her kids so they can be the “best hunters” when they grow up. It’s not about the bank account, it’s about a determined, goal-oriented fighter, who probably went through a lot in life to create it, who never gave up despite of all the difficulties, who needs to prove to himself that he’s the best every single day, and whose best competitor is himself one day ago.

And if a male is the “best hunter” in his “village”, he will also most likely choose a pretty, healthy, young female as his mate, rather than deal with someone he has to put up with just because that someone is his only chance to have babies with. So here you go, the most natural match in nature is explained from the purely scientific point of view. And you can’t argue with science. I know what most people are going to say: those girls only think of money. No, they really don’t. And I can name so many examples of how girls refused to be in a relationship with the most perfect candidates just because they didn’t love him.

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A couple of days ago Mikky broke up with her “boyfriend” of  8 months... a wealthy, hardworking, smart, good-looking Jewish guy, only 38 years old, treating her like a princess, spoiling her rotten…guess what, they never even had sex. Impossible, you will say; power of beauty, I will answer.  Us, dancers, drive men crazy sometimes.

They met at a club in Manhattan, where Mikky was working for almost six months. She was seeing Craig at that time but since he was financially worthless to her, and she desperately wanted to celebrate her 26th birthday in Vegas, she grabbed the bull by the horns, or Adam by his credit card, and booked their flight right from the VIP room. He came to see her in the club a couple of more times, they went out on a date to Jean Georges, but even before their plane landed in Vegas, Mikky realized that no money will ever make her sleep in the same bed with Adam, let alone any intimate relationship. So she came up with a pretty stupid explanation, genius in its simplicity. Mikky told Adam that she didn’t like sex at all. It made her all grossed out and she broke up with her previous boyfriend because he wanted sex all the time, and when she couldn’t give it to him as often as he demanded, he cheated on her. Surprisingly, Adam bought it and for eight months all their intimacy was kissing in the car when Mikky was really drunk and after which she would rush upstairs to her apartment to brush her teeth for five minutes.

When I met Adam, I couldn’t quite understand why Mikky was so annoyed with him all the time. He was smart, fun to talk to and treated everybody like a gentleman. I was working as a massage girl in that Russian club in Brooklyn, where Mikky started her “career” when she just came to the States, and he left me more tips than I did actual massages for Mikky that night, just to please her. Mikky had about six martinis just to be able not to yell at him all the time. Remember it next time when you’ll start saying that strippers will do anything for money.

Adam didn’t want Mikky to dance anymore and paid for her FIT courses of interior design. He drove her to school and back twice a week, even though it meant that he had to drive from his apartment in downtown Manhattan to pick her up in Brooklyn, drive her back to Manhattan, wait till she finishes her school and drop her off at home. Sometimes Mikky wouldn’t even talk to him in his car, as even the sound of his voice annoyed the crap out of her. He still didn’t care.

Mikky was so depressed about that relationship that she was crying in my apartment that she had to go to Barbados for his birthday, which meant she had to spend three days alone with him. Trying to somehow put up with Adam, she was drinking martinis before every dinner and was carrying a little water bottle filled with vermouth every time she had to see him. Remember that too when you say that girls don’t care about a guy’s personality if he has money.

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Not wanting to become an alcoholic, Mikky came up with a genius plan how to break up with Adam and not to look like a bitch at the same time. She went to the jewelry store right before Christmas and picked out a $3K set of diamond earrings and a necklace with a pendant.

- We don’t have sex and I’m really pushing it right now. – Mikky’s eyes were sparkling when she was telling me her plan. – I mean, we never had sex, but every month his company sends me a check for $4K, because “I’m working there”, and I have no idea even where his office is. He pays for my school, he buys me Burberry and Louboutins, and now I think it will finally be the straw on the camel’s back. There’s no way he’ll pay that amount of money for my jewelry, so he will have to dump me. And I will look good and like a victim! I’ll tell him that I thought that I finally found a perfect man for whom the spiritual connection is more important than sex, but he’s just like everybody else.

Adam not only bought her that setting that she chose, but a diamond bracelet on top of it. Oh, and did I mention that when Mikky’s father needed a very expensive treatment that only was sold in America and it was a matter of life and death, Adam sent the money right away, no questions asked?

Mikky couldn’t put up with her conscience anymore and no matter how nice Adam’s financial support was solving all her problems, she wrote him a long letter saying that he’s a great guy and he deserves the best girlfriend in the world, but unfortunately she can’t be that girl. She finally cut her financial cord and took a deep breath of freedom. She had no job and very little money saved, but it was making her much happier than having to pretend and play the role every day. Remember that when you say women choose money over love… we don’t. Yes, we unconsciously follow our instincts and choose the “best hunter” in the “village”, but if we don’t love this “hunter”, all the catch he brings won’t matter to us.

Chapter 26

- Gulnara is here!

When I came out of the shower, I found Mikky all excited on Skype with her old friend from her Russian strip club times. Gulnara and Mikky were doing a lot of things together, they were “dance partners”, they both “got married” almost at the same time and even rented apartments in the same building, Mikky on the 7th floor, Gulnara on the 4th. The only thing they didn’t have in common was the country of choice. Just like me, Mikky was in love with New York City, she was the biggest American patriot that you could possibly find (well, maybe, except me); Gulnara, on the other hand, was always longing more towards Russia, and as soon as she got her temporary bride’s visa after her “marriage”, she went back home for almost two month and came back to New York just two days before her interview for a temporary Green Card.

- Oh great! Say hi from me. – I was getting ready to see R. after almost a week. The gas shortage didn’t stop him from coming to Brooklyn, even though it came to such ridiculousness as people driving to Connecticut to fill up their tanks, or closing of the Verrazano Bridge to prevent all the incoming traffic to the city to keep what was left of the city gas from the Jersey “smarty pants”.

- I’m going to see her right now! I’m so excited! Yay!

- I’m glad you are. – I smiled at her. – R. is picking me up to get some food for us, so I’ll call you when I’m outside the building, you’ll drop the keys for me, ok?

- Ok, baby, say hi to R. from me and have fun, you guys!

I was very excited to see my R. because I missed him like crazy, but I wasn’t too sure about the fun: the heat still wasn’t on and I had a feeling that I was getting sick. The stressing out over my apartment in Oceana, the situation with which was still unresolved as because of Sandy they postponed the court hearings for three more weeks and I didn’t want to move in until I was one hundred percent sure that everything was fine. The Sandy nightmares, Coconut’s stupidity and lack of vitamins really took a toll on me; I just didn’t feel right.

However, as soon as I saw R., smiling at me from his car parked outside, I forgot all about it. We were hugging and kissing for about ten minutes before we drove off and I kept telling him that he can’t leave me alone for so long anymore. But we had to face another problem now: finding the food in the area. It turned out that all the stores around us suffered greatly from the storm and now all we saw next to Wallbaums and Stop & Shop were garbage trucks taking all the food gone bad, and sanitation trucks pumping the water out.

- I can’t believe they are all closed! It’s been more than a week now! How is it in Staten Island?

- Well, in my area it’s all fine, we are up there. – R. explained to me. – And don’t forget the gas problem, now they probably can’t bring the food in because of it too.

- God! It looks like one of those movies about the end of the world, like “The Day After Tomorrow”!

We didn’t die of course, but for the first time people of New York found out that they weren’t so safe anymore. And it was a very scary realization.

The first working food store we only found was on Kings Highway, and it was packed like an ant farm. As soon as we entered, I had a major flashback to the early 90’s in Russia, when I was a little girl, whom her mommy was dragging around in those huge malls with almost no food, but lines coming out to the streets. And money wouldn’t do anything if you didn’t have special food stamps. I still have a social phobia thanks to those “happy” memories of my childhood, I completely freak out if I have to wait for a train in one of those tiny stations in Manhattan during the rush hour. But it was all new to R., and for the first time I saw an Italian mobster, who would give the toughest guys beatings of their lives, trying to get away from the crazy Russian women “hunting” for food. It is a scary sight, and you don’t want to be in their way: they have years of experience of elbow-pushing people out of their way and insulting nice and polite Americans in their native Russian language. There you go, the real concrete jungle!