The Last Girl by Stephan Collishaw Page A

and nobody knocked on the door. I went to bed at twelve, after finishing the bottle of brandy.
    When I woke the next morning I hovered over the telephone, but my anger at Jonas prevented me from getting involved in negotiations with him. Jolanta I could not call.
    I knocked on Grigalaviciene’s door. When she called out through the doors, I told her that it was I. Locks and bolts slid open. One door after the other opened and she poked a sparrow-like head through the gap. She examined me for a few moments suspiciously, then, deciding I wasn’t drunk, opened the door a little wider.
    â€˜ Nu? ’ she said.
    I shrugged my shoulders. I just needed some company, if only Grigalaviciene. She opened the door and let me in. Behind me I heard the bolts shooting. I made my way to her tidy kitchen and slid into the seat by the kitchen table. She filled a pan with water and lit the gas with a deft flick of a match. Pulling a packet of biscuits from a cupboard she neatly arranged them on a plate despite my protest. When the water boiled, she poured it into a thermos and put a cup and saucer in front of me with a teaspoon and a jar of tea. I helped myself. All the time she kept up a steady stream of chatter. I was glad of it and sat not listening to her, but rather to the sound of the rain against the window and the flame of gas licking another pan of water.

Chapter 14
    The telephone was ringing as I put my key into the lock. I fumbled clumsily. Pushing open the door, I hurried quickly over and snatched the heavy receiver from its cradle.
    â€˜Yes?’ I panted.
    â€˜Daumantas?’ Jonas’ voice asked. ‘Yes.’
    â€˜Well? Have you given it some thought?’
    I loosened my collar and clenched my jaw. Anger would accomplish nothing. I struggled to control the bitter edge to my voice.
    â€˜I’ve given it some thought,’ I said.
    â€˜Good, good,’ he said, sounding genuinely pleased. ‘I knew we could come to some kind of a deal.’
    â€˜I didn’t say that I had agreed to do a deal,’ I cut in. ‘I’ve done some thinking, as I said, and what I was thinking was that one hundred dollars was a ridiculous sum to demand.’
    Jonas paused, masticating my comment. He came back cautiously. ‘Well, it depends what it’s worth to you.’
    I sucked my teeth and held back a comment.
    â€˜Let’s meet again, maybe we can fix a price that we’re both happy with?’ Jonas suggested.
    â€˜I want to see the manuscript,’ I said. ‘I want to know you’ve actually got it. I want to know you’re not just stringing me along.’
    Again Jonas paused. Finally he said, ‘I’ll have to see about that. The Red and Black, then, in an hour?’
    I looked at my watch. ‘Fine.’
    *
    The Red and Black was transformed by its early evening clientele. The bar hummed. Music pumped from the sound system, red lights flicked across the tables. Slick young men leaned against the bar chatting, arrogantly loud. They wore suits and flashed smart, fake designer watches at the girls. The men wore their hair cropped very short, as the girls wore their skirts. Small-time mafia types and girls looking for a good time. I felt out of place and wondered why Jonas had chosen this bar.
    Arriving first again, I sat at a table in the corner, out of reach of the flash of red light. Sipping slowly at a brandy, I debated how best to deal with Jonas. I doubted threats would achieve much. If I wanted the manuscript it seemed inevitable that I would have to negotiate with him. I decided to offer him the fifty dollars and hope he would accept.
    Jonas staggered in through the door and made straight for the bar. He ordered a vodka and downed it immediately. Ordering another he glanced around. He did not see me. He frowned and mopped at his brow with a handkerchief. For some more minutes I watched him before he saw me. A broad, crooked smile broke across his face.