By Simon Logan
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Additional info for Katja from the Punk Band
Finally the woman pops a final bubble. “Let me see if he’s around,” she says. Nikolai grins and lets the woman chatter into her headset for a few moments. “He says he’ll send someone down for you in a minute. ” Nikolai shoves the baggy back into his coat, locks his arms around it once more, and shuffles off. He is quickly consumed by the Atari blitz, the stench of sugary drinks, and the metallic odour of the hot machinery. He rolls across to the back door, shadowed and hidden by the glow of the games, and leans against the nearest cabinet.
Yes. ” He nods. “Then I need your help. I need you to drive me somewhere,” Katja tells him. ” He looks like he’s still catching up on her first question, still processing it. He chews on one of his fingernails. “I need to get to the docks. I’m meeting someone there. ” “Uhhh. ” “Yes. I’m meeting somewhere there. ” He looks around at the others in the diner and begins to say something but his tongue becomes wrapped around whatever substance he’s still riding and it’s nonsense that comes out. He takes a sip of his coffee and winces at its heat and/or sweetness.
And her hand squeezes the vial reflexively. ” Aleksakhina asks. Katja snatches her hand behind her back then brings it out again slowly when she realizes it’s too late. “Nothing,” she says weakly. Then, “Medicine. ” Aleksakhina doesn’t buy it. ” he asks, and his voice is like that of a father who has discovered his daughter’s dope stash. “I’m not involved in anything. ” “Not tonight. ” Her face flexes involuntarily, an open display of distaste, and Aleksakhina reads it well because he takes another few steps and is now closer to the bass guitar than Katja.
Katja from the Punk Band by Simon Logan