Free Kill Cupid: Internet dating just got dangerous by J. Brandon Best Page A

he was a long way from a beach and sounding the shark alarm.
    ‘Well, maybe…’
    ‘O thank you my darling Bronte, you are such a good man’.
    Bet she’d say that to Stalin offering fifty bucks .
     
     
     
     

CHAPTER 9
     
    Across town at the Intourist Hotel, three ladies sat perched around a small marble table in the foyer, drinking coffee. The place was built in the fifties, and was decadent in its lavish use of gold overlay, marble and granite. A chandelier the size of a small Pacific atoll hung suspended overhead like a UFO from Independence Day . The young women could have been waiting for the porter to deliver their luggage, or for a taxi to arrive, but instead, they were talking business. All well dressed, they looked the perfect subjects for a modern snapshot of young and affluent Russia against a backdrop of old world splendour and parquetry. But there was nothing at all modern about their line of work. It too was old world.
                  ‘I had a really quiet night last night, and I only worked three days last week, what with my mum and sister here.’ The young lady discreetly passed Alessiya an envelope, and continued, ‘There’s 13,000 - it’s all been counted.’
                  ‘Thanks Ksusha. How’re things with your mum and, does she know where you work?’ Sometimes the diplomat, Alessiya meant does she know about your career?
                  ‘Yea, she’s ok. She thinks I come here and work the night shift in reception.’ As she crossed her legs and adjusted her skirt she giggled, ‘She’d die if she saw that I work in the bar!’ Alessiya simply gave a smile and turning to the younger girl with the heavy handed dose of mascara to her right said,
                  ‘And how was your second week on the job Vika? Did you enjoy yourself – and make money?’ Vika fiddled with her long hair and looking sheepishly at Alessiya began explaining,
                  ‘Well last Saturday night I worked at Valya’s and that was good. I met a real hunk from America who was here for three days with Gazprom and, he paid my cab home later. The guy was Superman… a true stud, I’m telling you.’ Alessiya and Ksusha looked at each other and smiled, acknowledging that Vika was new to this line of employment. Flicking long straight hair from her face she continued,
    ‘But I couldn’t get to work on Monday night and last night I bought some smokes and a few drinks… I’m 500 short... Sorry.’ She passed over an envelope. Alessiya accepted it, though obviously not impressed. She said nothing and started putting things in her bag, ready to leave, then,
                  ‘Listen my dear, consider this your first and last warning. If you can’t get the guy to pay you for a head-job, at least get him to pay for your vices. Okay? And if that’s too difficult…’ she tailed off after giving in to answer her mobile.
                  ‘Hello? Oh hi… yes… I’m in the Intourist … How long? Okay, I’m leaving now… ten minutes… I’ll be home in ten minutes… see you then.’ Closing her phone, she stood, straightened her shoulders and with a million dollar smile of charm and pure innocence, said ‘…remember girls, life sucks - then he pays’. She turned and walked off, quickly passing through the large glass doors and onto the street.             
     
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    In a taxi headed for his place, Bronte was still stewing from the railroaded purchase of the Bardot boots. He wanted to ask Zhana of their plans for the night but she wouldn’t get off her beloved phone. While she muttered away, the cabbie struck up a stupid conversation.
    ‘Where you from?’ the driver asked.
    ‘Australia… Av-stral-ia…’ Bronte answered.
    ‘Ah, Rex Hunt. You know Rex Hunt?’
    Yes of course I know bloody Rex Hunt. Australia is a