are too high.'
'I can adjust the price according to the players. Nobody knows what anybody else pays for their chips, it doesn't say on them. I'm following the rules.'
'You'll risk breaking the bank.'
Annika stopped smiling. 'There's only one way for a gambler to win at roulette, and that's to win straightaway, stop at once, and keep the winnings. And nobody who starts winning does that. It's a snap being a croupier. All you need to do is keep the people playing until they've lost all they've won.'
Joachim smiled subtly. 'I think we'll get along, you and me.' He let his hand slide down her arm.
He went into his office. Annika turned around, feeling Sanna's eyes bore into her back. They're an item, she realized. Joachim and Sanna are a couple.
The sound of high heels coming down the spiral staircase made Annika look up. She couldn't believe her eyes. The TV presenter Patricia had told her about was teetering down the stairs of Studio 69 dressed in a miniskirt, stockings, and a see-through blouse showing the bra underneath.
'Hello, my friends,' said the man in a squeaky voice.
'Welcome, madam,' Sanna said, and flashed a flirtatious smile at him. 'What little goodies can we tempt you with tonight?'
As the man named a few of the girls, Annika realized she was staring at him. She used to watch his show, irreverent panel debates with politicians and celebrities. She knew the man had a family.
He maneuvered himself into the strip bar with Sanna. Annika heaved a weary sigh. The shoes hurt her feet. For a moment, she contemplated taking them off; nobody would notice the difference behind the table, but at that moment some Italian guys showed up. Annika went up to them and talked to them in English. It didn't work. She tried French, no luck, but Spanish was okay.
They gambled away thirteen thousand, and Sanna's face got darker and darker the more the men lost.
She doesn't like me, Annika thought. She knows I'm Patricia's friend, and she sees me as a continuation of Josefin. Maybe it's not so strange.
She glanced down at her minimal sequined, sky-blue bikini, Josefin's work clothes.
The evening dragged and faded into intangible night. Down in the old garage it was always nighttime. Annika sat with her eyes closed in the bluish light of the locker room, feeling the tears burn inside her eyelids.
What am I doing here? she thought. Is there any chance I might slowly slip into this world and get comfortable? I could make more money modeling in the private rooms. Will I do that? What I'm doing with the price of the chips is illegal. I could go to jail if I get caught.
She put on more makeup. Her face looked pale without it.
Patricia came into the locker room and smiled encouragingly. 'You're doing well, I hear.'
Annika nodded. 'Not bad.'
Patricia looked proud. 'I knew you were good.'
Annika closed her eyes, I mustn't take it in, she thought, mustn't listen to it. I mustn't find my new affirmation here. I'm not going to make my career in a strip joint. I deserve better. Patricia deserves better.
She touched up her lipstick and went out.
In the small hours, Sanna disappeared into a private room with an older man.
'He's a regular,' the hostess whispered as she left with the guy. 'There are hardly any customers left. You get the money from them when they leave- the checks are on the desk.'
Confused, Annika stood in front of the roulette table, not knowing the procedure. If she tried to get people to play roulette, then who would take the money if someone was leaving?
She made a quick decision to skip the roulette, and just then the TV guy appeared in the foyer.
'Where's Sanna?' Annika recognized the man's voice from the show.
'She's busy,' Annika said, smiling. 'Can I help you?'
The man put his card on the reception desk, and Annika anxiously licked her lips. She walked over to the desk and searched among the papers on it. There, she found the man's check.
She put the card in the machine and made out the credit card slip. She knew Sanna would get the cut on the sum; her code was logged in. The man signed the slip.
'Sweetie, are you leaving already?' a girl in the doorway squeaked. She was naked, with her pubes shaved off. She had pigtails and painted-on freckles.
'Oh, my little baby,' TV man said, and gave her a bear hug.
'Just one moment, please,' Annika said, and stole into the office. The room was empty. She put the credit card slip in the photocopier, shut her eyes, and prayed.
Dear God, please don't let it be noisy, don't let it be slow, let there be paper in the tray.
Rapidly and without a sound, the selenium-coated aluminum drum got to work underneath the glass; paper was released and fed into the machine; was sprayed with ink particles; then fixed and fed out again. She breathed out, but where the hell was she going to put the copy?
She quickly rolled it up into a hard tube, folded it in half, and pushed it in the crack behind the G-string- it was going to rub like hell.
'There we go,' Annika said, and put the check and the slip on the desk.
The man was sucking at one of the baby doll's nipples. When the girl saw Annika, she pushed the man away. 'I'm sorry,' she said fearfully.
Annika blinked, puzzled. She suddenly realized the other girls saw her as a person of authority, maybe because Josefin had been one. She thought she'd try to make the most of it.
'Just don't let it happen again,' she said sternly, and handed the man his receipt.
He left and the girl vanished into the bar. Annika waited for a couple of seconds, listening for noises from in there. The Muzak from the stage leaked out through the door, and she suddenly gave a shudder. It wasn't especially warm in here.
She slipped into the locker room, pulled out the photocopy, and pushed it down inside her shoe. She quickly returned to lean against the roulette table. She stood there until Sanna's hour in the private room was up.
'Everything okay?' the hostess wondered.
'Sure.' Annika pointed to the credit card slip.
Sanna looked at the sum, smiled contentedly, and gave Annika a roguish look. 'Do you pay your TV license?' Sanna wondered. She didn't expect a reply, just fanned herself with the slip, laughed to herself, and went into the office.
Annika smiled at the closed door.
Patricia was making tea. Annika sat on the couch in the living room, staring into the turquoise-gray dusk of the room. She had blisters from the horrible stilettos and was so tired she could cry.
'How can you stand it?' she said quietly.
'What?' Patricia said in the kitchen.
'Nothing,' Annika said, just as quietly.
The feeling of disgust lay like an undefined sensation of nausea somewhere in her midriff, and as she closed her eyes, she saw the scrawny nakedness of the baby-doll girl.
'Here you go.' Patricia placed the tray next to the phone on the small table.
Annika sighed heavily. 'I don't know how I'm going to cope with another night. How do you do it?'
Patricia smiled faintly, poured out the tea, gave Annika a mug, and sat down next to her on the couch.
'Everybody uses you,' Patricia said. 'It's no worse than in any other place.'
Annika drank some tea and burned her mouth. 'You're wrong. It
Patricia swirled the lemon slice in her mug. 'Maybe. Do you feel sorry for me?'
