Two Beepers are Better Than One

                        Ivan was short, wiry, bald. Fortyish. He had hairy arms and smelled of cigarettes. There was a predatory air about him. His little clothing store under the el had made him rich. He sold overpriced leisure wear to all the Russians in Brighton Beach. Being Russian himself, Ivan knew their weakness for expensive designer clothing. So he bought tons of no-name shit and pressed the logos on himself. Hilfiger, Fila, Polo, and their favorite: Moschino. Ivan made a fortune. Now he drove a Mercedes Benz and was on a first name basis with the kingpin of the Russian mob.

            She had seen him before outside the store, growling into his cell phone and popping sunflower seeds. She wondered what it would be like to sleep with “older man”. So when Irina saw the HELP WANTED sign in the window she smiled to herself. And then headed home to change into her favorite Donna Karan mini-skirt.

            It was good in the beginning. He took her to Little Odessa, Rasputin, Cafe Paris, all the best spots. He bought her tight slutty dresses and drove her around in the Benz. She had a hot young body and he loved to sport it. After their first date, as he pulled up in front of her building, Ivan gently kissed Irina on the forehead and pressed a $50 bill into her hand. “Nobody at work has to know about this,” he whispered. “OK,” she smiled. And they banged all night in the back seat of his Benz, right there in front of her building.

            Then one night they were in Rasputin and Ivan went over to speak to the kingpin -- whom he referred to only as Boris -- about a crooked business deal where he could move his fugazi leisure wear not only in Brighton Beach, but Bensonhurst, Sunset Park, maybe even as far as Staten Island. Ivan was very excited. He said that if the deal went through he would marry Irina, and make her very rich girl.

            As his friends watched, the young mobster strutted over to Irina. He was tall, chubby, dull-eyed, sporting a red Fila jumpsuit. Irina recognized it as one of the fugazis from Ivan’s store. She liked the young mobster’s style, especially the fact that he wore two beepers on his waistband. His name was Igor. He was a soldier for Boris and had knocked off two people since arriving in U.S. six months ago. They exchanged beeper numbers. Irina had a new friend.

            She soon broke it off with Ivan. He had lots of money but was lousy in bed. He couldn’t go for more than five minutes without breaking into a violent hacking cough. He objected angrily to the break-up at first and vowed to kill the other guy--whoever he was. But Ivan had a soft spot for Irina. He soon calmed down, and even let her continue working in his store.

            Meanwhile her and Igor began hitting the New York clubs. They dropped E and snorted K and danced the night away. Irina was lithe and feline on the dance floor. She soon had her belly button pierced. Igor got a tribal tattoo around his arm and started selling E. Everyone knew them. They were part of the scene.

            One night he and Irina met another hip Russian girl named Sveta and after dancing all night the three of them went back to his apartment. They were tripping and loving the world so they all three took a shower together and then made love. That was the best night of Igor’s life.

            Soon after, he botched a robbery attempt on a leisure wear store in Brighton Beach. That fateful night, poor Igor was killed.

            Poor Ivan used up all his money on lawyers. During the robbery, when he’d pulled his 9-mm, Igor had bolted for the door. That’s when he caught the slug in his spine. The merciless Ivan walked up to the crying boy and after muttering a single word -- motherfuck -- planted two bullets into the back of his skull. 

            The leisure wear store closed down, so poor Irina lost her job. But her and Sveta stayed on as lovers and it was all very exciting and new. Soon Irina landed a job promoting for clubs, and it was the best thing that had ever happened to her. She and Sveta celebrated by piercing their tongues.

            Soon after that they moved in together. They rented a studio on Avenue A and adopted two kittens: Dancer and DJ. Sveta started painting and danced in Billy’s Topless on the side. Irina thought she might try her hand at acting. They ate tofu and exercised at Crunch together. They smoked pot and made love on the futon. It was all very romantic. It was the life Irina had dreamed of ever since arriving from Moscow back in ‘93. After all those empty nights, at last, she was happy.