Siberian Summer- Chapter 1

Posted: December 1, 2010 in Short Stories
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Siberian Summer

Eduardo  Jones

I remember it was raining; it was one of those days you dreaded during a New England summer in a tourist trap. Cold, wet, and raw, not a fun- filled day by any means. I wouldn’t have even ventured out into it, if I wasn’t such a creature of habit.


At 1:00 PM everyday of the week, rain or shine, you’d find me at Le Bec Rogue drinking a glass of Johnnie Walker Black on the rocks with three olives floating in it, eating a plate of fish & chips.  Le Becs, as the locals call it, is a waterfront restaurant/bar. It has this amazing rooftop dining area; where you can just sit out on the deck, look out over the Atlantic,and listen to live music performed by some guy on an acoustic guitar singing cover songs like “Brown Eyed Girl” or “Margaritaville.” The tourists love it.  The food’s great and the scenery–amazing. It’s where I’d go to start my day.


Most of the staff knew me. The waitresses loved me. Probably only because I’d tip whatever the amount the bill was. A $40.00 lunch tab equaled a $40.00 tip. They’d fight over whose table I was going to sit at. Odds were though, I’d just request Crystal, and sit at her table.  Crystal was cool, I liked her. She was a hustler like me, only her hustle was a little different. She liked to act like she was dumb as a box of rocks. It paid off in spades for her, let me tell you. Guys just figured she was your usual bimbo slut, toss her a couple bucks, buy her a bottle of Captain’s, help her move into a new place, and she’d surely repay you for it the way all bimbos do, in warm- wet- pussy. Well, that never happened. Because Crystal wasn’t that airhead bimbo slut they thought she was. It was her grift, and she was Goddamn good at it. I certainly respected her for it.  Hell, when I first met her, believe me, I thought that bottle of Captain I bought her was a one-way ticket to the promise land.



The rain had fucked up my usual routine. The restaurant was dead as a crab dropped from the air onto the asphalt by a seagull. Management had cut the majority of the staff for the day; nobody goes to the beach on a rainy day. Not even Walter my usual bartender was there, never mind Crystal. So I decided, fuck it, just let them sit me wherever.


Honestly, I was pissed. I hated change. I hated not just having my glass of scotch immediately brought to me. I hated having to explain to a waitress they had to put three olives in it, or that I wanted fish & chips to eat.  I just wanted it delivered, no questions asked.


I’ll never forget the look on her face when she approached my table. It was the same as mine, disappointed. She obviously wanted to be anywhere but here on this rainy day. I couldn’t blame her; a rainy day on the beach equals zero dollars for a waitress, well nothing worth spending an 8 hour shift doing nothing over. She asked for my order in a thick Russian accent.  She was one of the types the locals hated, a Russian.


It never made sense to me why the locals hated the Russians. They invited them to the beach every summer to come and work for peanuts. But, once they arrived they treated them like shit, packed 6 of them into a two bedroom cottage that honestly was anything but up to code, and complained about them every chance they got, but had no problem taking their dollars. I’d personally never met, or interacted with a Ruska, until this moment.  She was beautiful in every sense of the word. No makeup, no Victoria Secret push-up bra, no fake tan, not a damn thing which American girls define beauty by. She just had it.


I asked. “What’s the matter? You don’t look happy.”


“Today is my 21st birthday, and I must work on rainy day.”


“Sucks, huh?”


“Yes, sucks, very bad.”


With this she took my order, made her way to the bar, and brought me back my drink.  She wasn’t exactly the greatest waitress by any means; Crystal would run circles around her. But you could tell there was more to her than this waitressing gig, if you had the right pair of eyes. This was just something she was doing to do make money on her big American dream vacation. But most Americans, being the ignorant assholes we are, figured she was over here to suck up American dollars working this high paying waitressing gig. I mean Jesus fucking Christ, why else would they come here? All they have in Russia is potato farms, right?  Nobody ever put the thought into the fact this wave of 90-day work visa students were most likely post grads, who on return to mother Russia, were probably going to land jobs, as doctors, lawyers, business execs, and a variety of other six figure positions. Nobody once thought about the fact maybe they were just coming here for a vacation, and to see what America was like. No, obviously they were here to suck up American dollars. Working at the most illustrious of positions America had to offer: waitresses, chamber maids, dishwashers, and fry cooks on Hampton beach for minimum wage.


I won’t ramble; I’m drunk, at the moment.  It’s the only way I could pound this story out, fuck you, if don’t like it.


Anyways, I wasn’t going to hang out at La Bec’s all afternoon, like I usually did, if it was just me by myself all afternoon. So, after I drank my scotch and ate my fish & chips, I asked for the check. She returned with it, with an even more disappointed look in her eyes. I couldn’t blame her.  I mean it was a $15.00 check, and I was the only customer in the place. Her day was going to be a slow one to say the least. I felt for her, I really did. Who the fuck wanted to spend their 21st birthday waiting on people who obviously hated them? So I took a hundred dollar bill out of my pocket, and tucked it neatly behind a ten and five ones, then slipped it into the leather folder she left on the table.


She snatched it up with the best fake smile she could muster up. I sat at the table crushing the ice cubes that remained in the glass between my teeth. It didn’t take long for her to return with an extremely puzzled look on her face.


“Excuse me. I think you make mistake.”

“Mistake, what are you talking about?”


“Your check is $15.00. You gave me $115.00.”


“No, that wasn’t a mistake. Happy birthday, I know I wouldn’t want to spend my 21st birthday working here on a rainy day for no money.”


I watched her grow even more beautiful as she cracked a very real smile from ear to ear and blushed.  I’d find out her name was Diana, and she invited me to her birthday party later that evening.


At first I didn’t know if I’d go. I mean I was definitely going to feel out of place in house full of Russians. But, my friend Alex convinced me I should go. Alex was another 90-day work visa student. He worked as a dishwasher at Le Becs, and knew Diana. He was from Belarus. The best way I could describe him as the epitome of the old Saturday Night Live skit “Two wild and crazy guys.” He even talked like that.

“Come on Ed, tonight we make par-tee! Tonight you fuck Russian pus-see! It is best in entire world!”

“I don’t know Alex, I mean, I don’t know if I should go.”


“You must go! It will be considered an insult to Russian girl, then; you will never get Ruska Pus-see.”


He did have a point; I didn’t want to insult her by any means. So, I decided I had Alex to watch my back, and to translate for me. So, what the hell? Why not go?



The rain had cleared up by the early evening. I was sitting in a hotel room I was renting for $150.00 a night. I had a house on North beach until a couple of weeks ago. But, I was run out by the neighbors. My lifestyle was definitely not one the State rep who lived next door to me approved of. So, he’d made it his mission to convince my landlord to evict me. It didn’t take him long to get his wish. One too many wild parties had been all it took.


So, now I was forced to bounce from hotel to hotel, during peak tourist season. I’d be lucky if I could stay in the same hotel, never mind room, for more than two days. The rooms were all reserved weeks in advance by families wanting to spend a week in the sun on the beach.  It was a tremendous pain in my ass. I’d spend the majority of my morning everyday trying to find a hotel that had a vacancy. Then once I did, I was forced to pay whatever price the manager saw fit. I’d paid anywhere from $150.00- $250.00 for a single night, depending on the hotel and its location.  The price wasn’t a problem. I could make that much money in one stroll from one end of the strip to the other. It was all the effort and lugging my shit from hotel to hotel that was the pain in the ass.


I was busy getting my supplies ready for the evening, when I heard the knock on door. I took the plate covered in a heaping mound of cocaine and placed it in the drawer of the nightstand, right next to the King James Bible, and shut it.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Danny.”  A voice replied from the other side of the door.

Danny worked as a line cook at Lebecs. He was young, maybe 19 or 20, a bit geeky and awkward, but a good kid. I liked him. I got up, unlocked the door and let him in.

“You’re a little early; I still have to wait for somebody to come by, before we can leave.”

“You want me to come back later?”

“Nah, it’s cool, they should be here any minute.”


I sat back down on the bed and pulled the plate out.

“You want to do a line?”

“Sure, why not?”


I cut us each a line out of the pile and passed Danny the plate.  He sniffed his and I sniffed mine. It didn’t take long for him to start flapping his gums at about nine hundred miles an hour.

“So, you excited about going to this party, Eddie?”

“Yeah, man. Diana is hot as hell.”


“Yeah she is, I like her friend Julia.”


“So, ask her out.”


“Ah, I don’t know, I don’t think she’d have anything to do with me.”


“Why not?”


“I’m not exactly the best at picking up girls, I mean look at me.”


“Well, thinking like that she won’t. Plus, you never know until you try.”


What Danny needed was a confidence booster, something to make him feel good about himself. Then suddenly just what he needed knocked on the door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Renee, baby open up.” A very nasal female voice answered.

I opened the door and let her in. Renee was the hooker-with-the-heart-of-gold type. She sold coke for me. She was your typical party girl. Fucking and sucking whoever had what she wanted. Good kid, just really misguided. I noticed Danny staring her up and down. Renee had these perfect round fake tits and a bubble butt. She was hot, in that dirty slut sort of way. I could tell by the look in Danny’s eyes he definitely thought so.

I needed to talk with Renee about stuff Danny had no business hearing, so I took her into the bathroom. I watched Danny’s eyes undressing her the whole time, as she walked into the bathroom.

“Do you have my money?”

“I have most of it baby, Dougie and them over on H Street still owes me $300.00.”

“Renee, what the fuck? How many fucking times do I have to tell you, don’t front crackheads shit!


I’m not giving you anymore, I hope you know that.”

Of course I was going to, Renee brought in upwards of 3 grand a week for me. But, you kind of have to threaten people with getting cut off every now and then.


“Oh, come on baby. I’ll make it up to you. I already have half an ounce gone. Come on baby.”

She pushed me up against the wall and grabbed my cock, and slowly dropped to her knees.

“No, Renee. I got a better way for you to make this up to me.”

“You’re not fucking me in the ass!”

“I’m not fucking you period. See my buddy out there, he needs a confidence booster. Why don’t you go out there and take care of him for me.”

“You’re a kinky fucker, baby. I didn’t know you liked to watch.”


“I don’t want to watch. I’m going to go for a walk for like a half an hour. Don’t tell him I told you to fuck him, just put the moves on him. The kid needs a little bit of an ego boost.”


“Ok baby, anything for you.”


More like anything for that bag of coke I was going to give her. But hey, it’s all part of the game. With this, I walked out of the bathroom.

“Danny, I’m going to the store you want anything?”

“I need some smokes, I’ll come with you.”

“No stay here, it’s cool; I have to go meet someone.”


On that note, I stepped out into the cool night air, pulled the pack of Newport’s out of my pocket, lit one and made my way down the stairs. The smell of low tide hung heavy in the air. Old Danny was in for the ride of his life and he didn’t even know it.










By the time I returned to the room, the deed was done. Danny was sitting on the bed, proud as a peacock, smoking a cigarette. Renee was in the bathroom taking a whore bath. Just looking at him, you could tell this was just the confidence booster he needed. Nothing makes a man feel more like a man, than getting laid.


Once Renee came out of the bathroom I gave her her package, and sent her on her way. She gave Danny a kiss on the cheek, and called him an animal. This only bolstered his confidence.


A quick shower and shave later, and Danny and I were on our way. His little romp with Renee had worked wonders for him. You could see it in his strut; head high, chest out with a swagger.  We talked about his joyride as we walked along the coast; the sound of the crashing waves echoing in the distance, and the smell of the salt air in our nostrils. Soon, the lights and carnival-like atmosphere of the strip were in the distance. The giggling shrieks of girls and the arrogant shouts of drunks drowned away the rumble of the surf. The smell of fried food smothered the salty air in our nostrils.


The children and families, for the most part, are gone once darkness falls on the strip. It turns from family fun center into a meat market soon after the sun disappears from the sky. As the saying goes, the freaks come out at night. They’re all here. The shirtless testosterone-filled juice heads flexing their Anodrol-filled pecks every time a girl walks by, challenging any guy holding the hand of a female that catches their eye. Goth freaks dressed in trench coats and combat boots even though it’s 85 degrees on a summer night in July. Biker boys standing next to chromed-out crotch rockets hoping to get a drunken slut on the back of their 1100 cc vibrator, to get her engine running at the end of night. Mullet-sporting metal trash in sleeveless shirts that read “Free Mustache rides”, or silhouettes of strippers with the phrase “I support single moms” emblazoned across the front, with bleach blond washed-up groupies sporting six inch black roots, and acid washed jean wrapped asses, on their arm. Guidos with 10 pounds of gel in their hair, wearing over-sized knock off designer sunglasses, even though the sun disappeared hours ago.  This is your typical crowd any night of the week on Hampton Beach.


By the time we’ve made it half way past the Casino, I’ve smelled enough B.O. and bad cologne to last me a lifetime. I’ve always wondered why it is the shittier cologne smells, the more some asshole feels it’s necessary to bath in it. Like if they put five times as much of it on, it’ll somehow smell better?


Soon though, we’re out of the crowd and walking down J Street up to Alex’s door. A few sharp raps on the door, then sound of the doorknob turning, and Alex’s roommate opens the door. She’s close to 6’ tall and has the looks of a supermodel. “Jesus, do they even make ugly Russian girls?” I practically think aloud as she invites us in. She informs us Alex is in the shower and will be with us shortly, in the meantime she offers us shots of Vodka to pass the time.


I’m just sucking down my third shot when Alex bursts from the other room and shouts “It’s time to make PAR-TEE!” He snatches the bottle of Vodka up from the table, pours himself a shot, swallows it down, slams the glass down and shouts “PAR-TEE!” He pours four more shots and hands each of us one. He raises his glass and says “To Ruska Pus-see, the best in entire world!” His roommate gives him a look that screams you’re fucking crazy, and rolls her eyes laughing.


I really wasn’t heading to the party under the assumption I was about to get balls deep in some Ruska pussy. I merely was invited to attend. Not saying it wasn’t a hope I had, but I wasn’t planning on it. For all I knew, she already had a boyfriend.


It turns out the location of the party wasn’t very far from the place I had met Diana. It was in the house directly behind Lebecs. I’d been there before. The entire triple-decker was almost exclusively inhabited by Lebec’s employees. The head line cook Odie lived in the basement, or the bat cave, as the staff called it. I’d been there before. It happened to be where I met both Danny and Alex. Odie was a horrible drunk. He also despised me, but never said it to my face. But, I’d always get word about him talking shit about me. I never did a damn thing wrong to the kid. In fact, I was always pretty nice to him, but for some unknown reason he just hated me.  The restaurant’s chef, Nora, a big burly dyke, occupied the first floor apartment. Nora was cool. Alex and I often spent nights drinking with her. She was good people plain and simple. Trisha, another one of the waitresses, her daughter, her boyfriend, who also happened to be a line cook, and Crystal all shared an apartment on the second floor. The third floor, where the party was being held, was occupied by this guy they called Mr. Moe. I’d never met Mr. Moe before.



As we made our way up the wooden steps that zigzagged their way up the front of the house, I heard the drunken chatter of female voices. It was Crystal and a couple of the other waitresses from Lebecs drinking Captains and smoking cigarettes on the porch in front of her apartment.


“Eddie, what are you doing, come have a drink!” Crystal shouts at me.


“I can’t. I’m going upstairs to this party with these guys. I’ll come by later maybe.”


“You fucking suck.”




And with that, I follow Alex and Danny up the stairs. You can hear the sounds of the party through the door. It definitely sounds like a good time. Danny knocks on the door. A few minutes later, a stout slick-backed haired guy answers the door. He looks at us and says

“You two can come in. But your buddy has to go.”


“What? Eddie is cool man.” Danny interjects.


“I don’t know him and I’m not letting him in!”


“What the fuck, Moe! Eddie was invited to Par-Tee. Let him in.” Alex chimes in.


I can’t really blame Mr. Moe for not wanting to let me. The locals are notorious for crashing parties and causing trouble. Plus, he had a house full of extremely attractive women. Who wants to fuck up the ratio, even if it is only adding one more sausage to the party?


“Invited by who? I didn’t invite him so that’s all that matters.”


“He was invited by Diana, you fucking asshole. This is her part-tee, correct.”


“Hang on a minute, let me check with her.”


He then asked his roommate to guard the door, and to throw me down the stairs if I tried to enter. I found this to be a little extreme, but it was his house. Diana did invite me however, so I figured I’d patiently wait for him to come back, after she confirmed she actually did invite me. No need starting a fight over any of this.


A few moments later, Mr. Moe returned.


“She says you’re cool. So I’ll let you in, but I’m warning you, I don’t want any fucking problems. You cause one fucking problem and I’m throwing you out.”


“Don’t worry, Eddie won’t cause any problems.” Danny responds.


“You know you’re a real asshole Moe.” Alex adds.


“I won’t cause any problems.” I assure him.


With that, he let us in. The apartment kind of had a strange layout for a party. There was a living room/kitchen when you first walked in, then a long hallway to a backroom. It basically broke the party up into two separate parties. It reminded me of a model bar in NYC. Everywhere you looked, there were these amazing specimens of female beauty. I could see why Mr. Moe was strict with his door policy.  Again, I began thinking to myself, “Jesus, do they even make ugly Russian girls?”


I made my way to the backroom. The air was full of music and the sounds of foreign tongues whose words I could not comprehend. As I made my way through the doorway, I saw her sitting on a couch. I couldn’t believe my eyes. My first thoughts of her at the restaurant were wrong. She wasn’t beautiful. This girl was absolutely stunning. She was hands down one of the most amazing creatures I’d ever laid my eyes on.


As our eyes met, she smiled and motioned for me to sit next to her.


Once I actually entered the backroom and sat with Diana on the couch, I saw the real reason Mr. Moe was so strict with his door policy. The entire room was lined with bottles of booze. There was enough liquor in this room to put Lebecs out of business if he wanted to.


He had everything you could imagine to drink in this room, all except my precious Johnnie Walker. I wasn’t complaining though. The bottle of Glenfiddich he had would be a worthy substitute.


For the most part, the party seemed to be very accepting of me. A few of the Russian males despised me, and it was evident in their sneering eyes and the inflections of their voices as they talked and glared at me. One young Russian male sat in the corner in complete silence. His eyes just fixed on my every movement, and his ears listening to every word that spilled from my drunken lips. He was obviously studying me.


I paid it little mind and continued drinking and talking with Diana. She had informed me not everyone attending the party was Russian. There were Bulgarians, who spoke with an extremely angry dialect. Often, judging by their tone, I thought they were going to erupt into a fistfight at any moment, and then much to my surprise, they’d be hugging and giving each other high fives. There was a tall leggy blond named Ania, from Poland. It was obvious she was very cultured and had traveled the world extensively. She spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, and was just as comfortable speaking English as she was any other language. In fact, most of the people at the party spoke English fluently. I found this to be remarkable. Perhaps it was just my American ignorance that caused me to feel it was remarkable that they spoke English fluently. It never occurred to me that the countries that made up the former U.S.S.R found importance in being able to speak English, and these kids had been learning the English language since the 1stgrade.


As the night progressed in a whirlwind of shots, laughter, and gambling, I discovered these foreign souls were not much different than my own, or any other American for that matter. Except for some of their humor, and the fact they seemed more open and accepting than the Americans for sure. My only knowledge of the Soviet people before this night came from Cold War propaganda. These were not the cold-hardened evil people hell-bent on world domination and the death of the American way. In fact, they seemed to embrace our culture and ways, far more than the American people embraced theirs.


As the party began to wind down around 3AM, Alex decided to invite myself, Diana, and a few others back to his house, to continue drinking. We sat laughing and drinking until the sun began rise from the ocean. I’d spent the majority of the night flirting with Diana, and all the signs were there that I’d be able to seal the deal. In fact we were the last people to leave Alex’s house.


As we exited Alex’s house, it had began raining again. It was a warm summer shower. We strolled together to her house. The rain didn’t bother either one of us much. Soon, we were at her house; a small dilapidated cottage that sat directly behind a pink one in similar condition. This was my moment of truth, surely she would invite me in. After all, it was raining and we’d been flirting all night. She walked up on the porch in front of me, turned, smiled and said…..

“Thank you for coming to my party, but now you must go, good night.”


With that, she walked in her house and closed the door. No invite in, no kiss, not even a hug. This was the last thing I expected. I was dumbfounded. All the signs were there, but nothing happened. This was not a situation I was used to being in. On any other night like this, with any other girl, I always had been invited in. From here, I stumbled home alone in the rain, wanting this woman, more than I’d ever wanted any woman before…..



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