Asgard Park

Chapter 4

Book 1, Shequere Avxhiu

Chapter 4ON THE STEPS OF THE Hotel Dajti, it didn’t pass Charles Grenville unnoticed that Shequere Avxhiu had mixed feelings about entering. The three of them had arrived in her brother’s car at six. With the promise of evening coolness, a few youngsters were already milling about the park. As he greeted the girl profusely on the steps where everyone could see, he noted their spiteful eyes on her back.

He found her on virgin ground inside, and wearing the same cotton dress, probably her best. How easy it would be to dazzle this girl with quality clothes. None were available. The scruffy setting and threadbare carpets, the dull seedy upholstery, the chipped crockery, and mismatching cutlery insulted his senses.

The Kid, with her easy puppyish ways, was out to claim her price from the start. Grenville felt awkward to be the s****l target of one so gracelessly minor. With bird in hand, instead of indulging, he found himself for the first time in his life trying to renege on a deal.

As the evening wore on, the restaurant became a noisy place. The privacy of the table was tested by broad-faced Balkan men in various stages of sobriety, claiming to be friends of the family. They all wished to meet the rich foreigner and tell him, through Avxhiu’s halting version, about their ambitions, their profitable empires and how they all had hated Hoxha. It became a religious ritual. They bided their time, waited, and watched for an opening at his table. They scurried up to kiss the cardinal’s hand, to confirm an alliance, like backward boys of a favorite family. And Avxhiu loved being at the center; eyes gleaming on translating their homage.

Throughout the Dajti dinner, Grenville, trained in the steel-trap subtleties essential to a wealthy Canadian mining director, skillfully cast his nets for the older girl. With the studied air of an afterthought, he offered her a temporary position as an interpreter. The salary would be fifty dollars a day. He had meant to say a hundred but held back. Not that he was infected by a grudging hand; offering too much would signal hidden motives. Perhaps fifty dollars a day was a small fortune in this wretched place.

It was in fact such a princely sum that nobody put his offer down to professional needs, except one young woman infatuated with a newfound skill. It went against every grain in her body to question the source from which such blessings flowed. The dark suspicious look of her brother was nonetheless duly noted by Grenville.

A country with Muslim undertones hid the trade, but sleek young but-tocks came a dime a dozen in this place. The Kid had a gross body language that repulsed him, if not as much as her sensuality attracted. The older girl filled him with more abstract longing. He had not even brushed against her. It astounded him to find a dormant feeling so vividly alive.

“What is chromite, please, sir?”

“It is a mineral vital to the production of stainless steel.” “What is mineral, sir?”

He saw that any sensible answer to that mixed up enough ingredients to trigger several follow-ups.

“A special metal found in rocks, like iron.”

He saw another question forming and made a preemptive strike. He would love to soak her sponge but all in good time.

“Look here, Avxhiu, I need someone to step in when official interpreters are unavailable. I don’t need you to translate de jure or turgid official texts but rather to ease my contacts with people; small talk, like now.”

Familiar with the many charming gaps in her English, Grenville had no intention of actually using her linguistic services. Many officials he dealt with spoke halting English or used State interpreters. If she agreed, he could wine and woo her for days. If nothing came of it, he would be richer for the experience.

Having eaten voluptuously, Shequere Avxhiu had become the slightest bit tipsy. Albanians delighted in drinking your health. The schnapps was strong. She had hardly touched it, but her forever-blushing face beamed. It was a fine job offer, and she conferred with her drunken brother.

“If Avxhiu take job, I must take little time to interpret for Spiro business friend, yes please?”

It turned out that the girl needed some uncertain time off to translate for a visiting German businessman. It was a provision easily granted. Smiling his assent, he noted how awestruck she was by her bargaining power; how smoothly this was going. His crush on her did nothing to change the cynicism that came with age. That girl would be defeated by any complex text. He raised a tumbler to toast their association and felt the Kid’s hand slip up his thigh to crudely massage his crotch under the stained tablecloth.

It made him lose what lust he had felt towards that little pixie. For a moment he wished he was back in the real world.