Peter Pišt'anek - Rivers of Babylon

“If he comes, he comes,” says the stoker. “If he doesn’t, he doesn’t. So let’s go through the list one more time.” First Rácz and Silvia; her friend Edita; Ďula; Wanda the Trucker; Video Urban and companion; Khunt, who bought the watches from Rácz, and companion; two Albanian representatives: Bekim Bahmuci and Ahmet Sočila and their companions; a few scrubbers from the cabaret: Anča-Jožo, Dripsy Eve, and the others; a few important hotel guests. In other words, people who consider it an honour to sit at the same table as Rácz.

“A big honour, a big honour!” Ďula nods enthusiastically.

Rácz gets up. “Now go,” he orders him, “and get me the restaurant manager!”

Meanwhile Silvia gets back from shopping. She takes off her fur coat and reveals a mini-skirt. She’s wearing boots that reach above her knees, a Christmas present from Rácz. He bought them for her, but she doesn’t like them. They look like fishermen’s waders. But they’re in fashion. Every whore at the Ambassador has them. Silvia puts down her bags.

“Where’ve you been?” asks Rácz.

“In Tuzex, the foreign-currency store,” says Silvia.

“And what did you get there?”

“I bought a nice spring coat,” she says.

“What do you need a spring coat for in winter?” Rácz asks.

“Spring comes next,” Silvia announces stubbornly.

“Did you go with Edita?” Rácz asks her.

“I did,” Silvia answers. “Why do you ask?”

“Just asking,” says Rácz. He thinks the two women spend too much time together. It seems a bit strange to Rácz. He’s heard about women who are such good friends that they end up screwing together. Rácz isn’t sure what to think about that.

Somebody knocks at the door. “Come in!” Rácz roars. It’s the restaurant manager. Rácz offers him a chair and briefly lets him know about his plans for New Year’s Eve, which he proposes to celebrate with a circle of friends. He will need the separate lounge.

The restaurant manager says timidly that they’d be happy to welcome the boss and his much-respected companions, but unfortunately, the lounge is already reserved.

“Reserved?” asks Rácz. “Then cancel!” he orders severely, “I can’t see the problem.”

The restaurant manager politely clears his throat to gain time. He says, “It’s not that simple. Dr. Renceš reserved the lounge at the beginning of December.”

“And who’s he?” asks Rácz.

“The boss doesn’t know Dr. Renceš?” The restaurant manager is astounded.

“No,” says Rácz. “Rácz has never been sick.”

The restaurant manager chokes back his horror. “Dr. Renceš is the mayor of our city,” he says in a trembling voice. Rácz doesn’t lift an eyebrow. It’s made no impression on him.

“You must understand now,” said the restaurant manager, “that, with all the respect due to you, it’s absolutely impossible to cancel the mayor’s reservation.”

“No, I don’t understand,” says Rácz. “Why is it impossible?” The restaurant manager just throws up his hands helplessly. Rácz loses patience. “Look,” he says and gets up. “Either you cancel that reservation, or tell the mayor to dress very warmly for New Year’s Eve. And his companions, too.”

The restaurant manager turns pale. He is stumped, and falls back into his armchair in despair. “You can’t do this to us,” he murmurs, giving the triumphant stoker a look of entreaty.

“I can,” Rácz says. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“But you’ll destroy us all,” the restaurant manager moans.

“I’ve told you what I want,” Rácz ends the interview, goes to the door and opens it. “Rácz never says anything twice,” he adds. The restaurant manager sits in the armchair staring in disbelief. “Well, yes or no?” asks Rácz from the doorway. “I can count on the lounge?!”

“Tell me what to do,” the restaurant manager whimpers in despair, “or how to do it.” He reflects. He gets up and finally declares, “No. It’s impossible. It’s out of the question.” Something inside him snaps. He falls on his knees and puts his hands together. “I beg you on my knees, don’t ruin me!”

Rácz proudly sticks his chest out. “What do you mean ‘Don’t ruin me!’ If Rácz wants to,” he says menacingly, “he can ruin people, too. Now, out!” Rácz has said all he needs to. It all depends on the restaurant manager now.

The restaurant manager, a broken man, gets up and leaves. Rácz closes the door behind him. Silvia comes out of the bedroom dressed in black lace lingerie. She comes to Rácz, puts her arms round him and snuggles up.

“What do you say?” she whispers.

“About what?” reacts Rácz, still thinking about the restaurant manager.

“About my outfit,” says Silvia.

“Well, it looks good,” decides Rácz, and gives her buttocks a firm squeeze.

“Do you fancy me?” Silvia asks, inserting her hand under his sweater.

“Yes,” says Rácz, feeling his blood pressure rising.

“And how do you fancy me?” asks Silvia. She lets Rácz slowly push her back into the bedroom.

“I fancy you a lot,” says Rácz. He grabs her below the breasts. Silvia moans with pleasure. Rácz picks her up into his arms and carries her towards the bed.

“Watch out,” Silvia reminds him, laughing, “you’ll tear my stockings. You know how much they cost?”

“How much?” Rácz asks.

“Don’t ask,” Silvia says.

“But I am asking!” Rácz says and stops dead with Silvia in his arms half-way to the bed. Silvia tells him. Rácz freezes.

“That many crowns?” Rácz is astonished.

“No, five times as much, since it’s in foreign currency vouchers.”

Rácz opens his mouth. His excitement has ebbed away. The immobilised stoker clenches his fists. Silvia drops from his embrace. She falls on the floor. She hurts her tail bone badly, and groans.

“You bully,” she cries.

Rácz stands above her, his eyes popping, all red in the face. Rácz has money, but not for stupid things! To spend so much on bloody stockings! He doesn’t dare ask how much she paid for the lace panties she’s wearing!

Silvia bursts into tears. She gets up and limps to the couch, pressing a hand to her tail bone. She moans disconsolately. And how much is her time with Rácz worth, she bawls. How much are her days and nights worth? For him she gave up the profession that she enjoyed so much! Has Rácz ever looked at himself in the mirror? And finally, for whose benefit, actually, did Silvia buy those trinkets? For herself? Or for the receptionist?

“Trinkets!” Rácz bellows. “Trinkets, you said?” He lifts a fist like an anti-tank grenade.

But there’s no stopping Silvia. Rácz is a boring client. He’s an oaf and ignoramus. As a lover, he’s useless.

Rácz’s eyes bulge out of their sockets. In his rage he puts his fist in his mouth so as not to kill the whore.

“Rácz might like to know,” says Silvia, “maybe it doesn’t happen in the country, but here, in the city, women usually expect when they make love to have something called an orgasm.”

Rácz takes his fist out of his mouth. “What organism? What sort of organism?” He’ll bash the bitch right away so hard she’ll have a couple of organisms right away! Rácz keeps her and clothes her. Silvia gets anything she can think of! And Rácz asks nothing in exchange, except for her to be nice to him! She doesn’t like him? Rácz isn’t keeping her! He took her off the street and made her his mistress. Now, if she wants to walk the streets and kick her legs up in cabaret, she’s welcome to it!

Silvia jumps off the couch. Rácz doesn’t need to say it twice! Silvia opens the wardrobe and quickly begins to dress. She can’t see for tears. Her bottom hurts. She gets dressed, puts on her shoes, takes her bag and slams the door with all her might.