Read Online Hotel Moscow by Talia Carner - Free Book Online

zippers. Her long legs, encased in fishnet stockings and tucked into black patent-leather high heels, completed the look of a pricey call girl. “I’ve joined an escort service,” she chanted, and waved a hand in front of Svetlana’s stunned face. “Earth to Svetlana?” she said in English, an expression they had picked up from an American magazine.
    Svetlana swallowed. “Are you out of your mind?”
    Lyalya’s brown eyes twinkled through their heavy makeup. “I’ll meet so many interesting people. Foreigners.”
    “But what will you have to do?” Svetlana whispered. She twitched her brows to warn of Natasha’s presence.
    “Oh, that?” Lyalya swung her hips and laughed. “Foreign men aren’t bad, not like the disgusting Russians. The girls I’ve met have a great time; they go to restaurants, bars, and clubs.” She giggled. “Have you ever been to a restaurant?”
    “Once, for a wedding.”
    “I’ll go every night and earn more money in one week—in one evening—than you’ll make in a year in that miserable factory.”
    “But think of your future,” Svetlana murmured, wrapping her arms around Natasha, who stood gawking at Lyalya.
    “My future? Like my mother’s? It’s a new era. I can study for years and be a stupid doctor or I can have it better now.”
    Svetlana let go of Natasha and grabbed Lyalya’s arms with both her hands. “There’s a terrible price to pay for the road you’re choosing. You can still change your mind before—before you catch some horrible disease. There’s a new one, AIDS—” She searched her mind for ideas. “Remember when you wanted to be a journalist? Now you can apply again.”
    “Are you kidding? I’m still a Jewess. The university hasn’t changed its policy or quota.” Lyalya’s voice mimicked an official’s authoritative baritone. “‘Jews are involved in international conspiracy; they can’t be trusted to work with foreigners.’” She pranced behind the laundry hung on a line across the bedroom, and her finger flicked Svetlana’s pink underwear, their crotch patched. “I’ll rent Mama a whole apartment. I want her out of this hell hole.”
    “We’ll talk more later. I must make Natasha’s dinner.” Svetlana patted strands of her girl’s fair hair.
    Swaying her hips, Lyalya walked out, blowing them a kiss.
    Svetlana gave her daughter a gentle nudge. “Go to the kitchen and put the pots on to boil. Then come right back.” She began straightening the room while cocking her ear for the feared shuffling sounds of Zoya, the old woman who shared a room with a married daughter’s family.
    A commotion erupted a few seconds before Natasha burst in, her face convulsed with sobs. “Zoya slapped me and shoved me out of the kitchen.”
    “Baba Yaga, the witch.” Svetlana rushed down the long corridor and burst into the kitchen. “I’ve warned you not to touch my child!” she yelled at Zoya.
    “Your brat’s always in my way,” Zoya said over her shoulder. Her cooking utensils were scattered over every centimeter of surface. Potato peels flew about from under her quick flicks. “And now you’re in my way.”
    “Everyone is in everyone’s way,” Svetlana shouted. “You won’t get me to move out by hitting my daughter, you hear?” She clenched her fists and waved them in the woman’s face.
    Zoya shrugged, but her smiling, toothless, wrinkled mouth revealed that she was resolute in her effort to claim Svetlana’s room. Since Zoya’s daughter had had a baby, their one room was simply too small for three generations.
    All Svetlana could do was go back to her room and wait for Zoya to leave the kitchen.
    “I’m hungry,” Natasha whined.
    In her wash basin, Svetlana rinsed the two slices of salami and cheese she had managed to save from the cafeteria. The rest of the wasted leftover food—pieces of chicken, something noneof the workers had been able to purchase in months—had to be thrown away after the hoodlums had urinated on