Rusim stopped halfway along the bridge crossing the Slatina. He was dressed in a white shirt, faded grey trousers and worn-out brown boots.
\nThe Slatina was a slut, he told himself. A bite on the arm with false teeth and no comeback.
\nZdravko was late.
\nHe crossed to the other side of the bridge and stood looking upstream smoking a cigarette.
\nA concrete river trapped in its reverse direction.
\nPedestrians. Cyclists. The scrabble of lunchtime.
\nThings cooked themselves, as the Shopi say.
\nWork was a drug. And every other fluffhead wanted to get out of it.
\nWhich included getting the fuck outta here.
\nAnd someone coming around the corner soon.
\nBut hell.
\nHere\u2019s what we\u2019re gonna do.
\nSome other gypsy\u2019ll be sleeping in.
\nHe\u2019ll be rosy.
\nI\u2019ll be standing here on this bridge just for fun.
\nUpstream is a stash of secret reasons not to eat.
\nElse why would anyone be on the edge of a bridge looking at people with nothing to do?<\/p>\n
\u201cYou’re the busy fuckbrain, isn\u2019t it?\u201d
\n\u201cI was most of the morning on the phone and at the office,\u201d Rusim admitted without looking around. He threw away his cigarette, turned and looked Zdravko up and down. \u201cDon\u2019t ever think I\u2019ve seen you in a suit before,\u201d he said.
\n\u201cMe neither.\u201d
\nRusim shook his head.
\n\u201cSo where are we going?\u201d Zdravko said.<\/p>\n
Off the bridge, Rusim turned towards town. \u201cSome people think you can demean a man for long enough and he\u2019ll run away and die,\u201d he said. Somehow, Zdravko and Rusim just kept walking. There was nothing to stop for. Without too much thinking, they walked right past a Chinese place selling every kind of fruit and vegetable. Factory shops selling whiteware, T shirts, auto parts. A takeaway joint. A random gas station. \u201cI don\u2019t even know how I could be late.\u201d Zdravko stopped at a pedestrian crossing. \u201cI\u2019m never late.\u201d Rusim took a turn into a service lane housing the back end to a row of shops. \u201cThis whole Gjoeb story smells like a set up,\u201d he said. Rusim stopped halfway along the bridge crossing the Slatina. He was dressed in a white shirt, faded grey trousers and worn-out brown boots. The Slatina was a slut, he told himself. A bite on the arm with false teeth and … Continue reading
\n\u201cWhere the fuck did that come from?\u201d
\n\u201cDon’t know. Just thinking to myself. I didn\u2019t know you were following me.\u201d
\n\u201cI guess we\u2019re all gonna crawl off and die then?\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019m weighing it up.\u201d
\n\u201cI can see you\u2019re in a good mood,\u201d said Zdravko.
\n\u201cI don\u2019t like waiting. Don\u2019t like too much of anything this morning.\u201d
\n\u201cWell it\u2019s not morning any more. And I\u2019m not some skapanyak<\/em> on a pristine beach who could never say sorry. I\u2019m perfectly sorry. That\u2019s twice in a row. Three minutes late each time. Six minutes in total.\u201d
\n\u201cAsshole. Remember, I got a fucking camera in my pocket. I\u2019ll put you in my book.\u201d<\/p>\n
\nNo shop selling leads. Shops selling leads were all out. <\/p>\n
\n\u201cMaybe jet lag?\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019ve never had jet lag.\u201d
\n\u201cMaybe too much banging?\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t think so. I got an alarm on my dick.\u201d
\n\u201cThat must\u2019ve been pretty good, Africa?\u201d
\n\u201cMore than good,\u201d mumbled Zdravko.
\n\u201cThat good?\u201d
\nZdravko twisted his face. \u201cI\u2019ve got this cheap hotel in Maputo. First night in town, I get to meet some people. Next day, I\u2019m hanging out in a fishing village up the coast.\u201d He stepped onto the street. \u201cI\u2019m in heaven. Every day. Fishing for kinds of fish no one\u2019s ever eaten before!\u201d<\/p>\n
\nZdravko said nothing.
\nRusim gave him a look. \u201cThere is no Gjoeb,\u201d he said. \u201cHe\u2019s a made-up name in a figment Hungarian universe. He escaped from the only halfway decent sitcom in Bulgaria, abetted by a dead guard.\u201d
\n\u201cA set up for the purpose of what?\u201d
\n\u201cSomething that don\u2019t smell too good for us.\u201d
\nZdravko walked into the the delivery entrance of a restaurant. \u201cApart from being late, what else could I do to really piss you off?\u201d
\nRusim didn\u2019t answer.
\n\u201cWell?\u201d Zdravko insisted.
\n\u201cYou\u2019re missing the point.\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019m on the point.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat could you do to really piss me off? What, you gonna try something new? Turn up two hours late?\u201d
\n\u201cGjoeb\u2019s a real fuck who\u2019s got more brain cells than Julius Caesar.\u201d
\n\u201cWell, it\u2019s not looking good. This whole morning\u2019s been a lot of dead rats. Barring a trip to Budapest or England, I got nothing except Gjoeb\u2019s money comes from the British Virgin Islands. CJLL Trust, run through a legal firm out of London. Brewer Thain. I got the crazy idea to look through the leaked banking details of clients from Mossack Fonseca. Bingo. Or no bingo. Looks pretty stand up. Money comes in from Brewer Thain. Sole payee is one fairly wealthy R. Gjoeb. Where the lawyers get their money from is the next question. Meanwhile, his mother remains in a rest home outside of Budapest with Alzheimers. Dad\u2019s dead. No siblings. No kids. But this you know. Other than that, no telephone, no contacts, no chattels. No motive for stealing a horse. Hardly a cigarette butt. But we still gotta check in on the folk dance lady.\u201d
\n\u201cLet\u2019s do that.\u201d
\nThe kitchen was in full swing. Somewhere very close, people were eating.
\n\u201cWe\u2019re gonna find this guy,\u201d said Zdravko.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"