It was Vladi's fifth call on the fifth day of the fifth month. The hour, fresh and unwrapped for the world was 5pm; and this all for his girlfriend of only two short months, well-timed gestures of affection that of course were deemed sweet at first, things such as his unexpected checking in, emails with roses attached, flowers delivered by courier to his girlfriend while at her place of work.

Her name is Sacha, and she is one able to induce feverish feelings, a woman of divine beauty in the making, a raw, slightly brown, sun baked lovely being with dark, flowing hair shining wondrously under the slight sun of early west coast springs. She's a Moroccan Goddess with lips sweet like mango juice, and a body with curves similar to the landscapes along the coastline of South America, and it was because of her comeliness that Vladi was prone to haphazard means of doting and worship. Hence the calls, and the showing up without notice, along with the grin Vladi would often muster when they were out together socially, a devilish one when men approached her in bars.

There amongst smoke and lights many men approached with guile and drinks in hand, smiling broadly, and they were a callous brood-a brood unknowing of course; unknowing of the man standing beside the woman of interest, and this being that Vladi Koznovik was a man lacking stature of considerable means, he stood at a mere five feet, ten inches, and was used to appearing short when in the company of men over average height. Plus it seemed the creator was adept at being humorous when constructing his physical shell; he was a pale man, skin tone a mere replication of pure ash, or snow before its consistency turned the color of the earth it fell upon, and during his dreams he imagined when coming to America his appointed flesh would take on a new hue, as those he saw on television, like the characters from a show he could only remember being called 'Baywatch'� '




He watched too much American television during his days in Moscow, loved how brunettes and blondes gleamed impressively under sunlight, and how their breast bounced, or how their lovely lower areas always appeared shaved and maintained. As soon as he arrived in the states he made a promise to himself to find a woman just as those he had seen on 'Baywatch.'� And soon he found the woman of his fantasies, there, in a nightclub on the strip, her impressive frame surrounded by artificial stimulus: lights, colorful lights bouncing, flittering, and strobing over her gyrating frame. Tucked in a corner across from her place of visual seduction was a group of men, all of them appearing hungry and desperate and rich, they were watching her like people watch food simmering. I have to have her, Vladi thought. She's definitely'�

Sacha Delgado was her name, and later she was standing at the bar sipping a light blue concoction from a long-stem glass under what appeared to be a spotlight. Vladi thought maybe it was his mind highlighting her view. She did appear to have angelic qualities. She was smiling after each sip, as though the drink tickled her insides; and this was perhaps a good thing, because the club was some placed called 'Emotions'� where the theme was, yes, you guessed it, human emotions.

Ironically most of the employees of the club sported T-shirts indicating what emotion they were, and most appeared negative: bartenders labeled ADDICTION, servers labeled ENABLERS, dj's labeled SELFISH, and the most prevalent, nasty looking bouncers, big ugly men from what Vladi assumed was East L.A., big bald headed bouncers with deep rolls on the back of their shining heads like water reservoirs. These were reservoirs for dirt and sweat of course. These human meat slabs with eyes and arms had on shirts that in plain view had the word 'INSECURITY'� on them.
Americans are at least funny, Vladi thought.

He waited almost three hours before walking up to Sacha, another hour before asking her to dance, then a half hour from there he was dutifully amazed at her friendliness as he had her drinking and laughing and then'�

'I would love to give call,'� he said with his Russian tongue still heavy.
Sacha smiled one of those smiles hinting she had control.
'You would, huh?'�

Bad move, and this was according to Vladi's 'how to meet American women'� handbook.

A man should not lose control, keep the upper hand, don't give in, be 'cocky and funny'� let her come to you'�




Vladi read these words written by well-known sex expert known as Mick Deangelo, and it seemed someone was paying this man for foolishness. Vladi became hooked on his methods, changing his personality, trying his damndest to be 'cocky and funny'� when instead he came up a tad short and came out the ass end of the relationship of his dreams covered in the stench of being 'a cock that's no fun'�

The control he wanted had come and gone, just as his steps while approaching Sacha at emotions. Nonetheless he kept trying the methods from his reading

'Well, here's my number,'� Sacha said, flashing a smile that made her features appear even softer.
So lucky she is, Vladi thought. So breathtaking'�
He then asked a question abreast with ingredients indicating low self-esteem.
'When's good time to call?'�

Sacha smiled again, grabbed her drink, winked and turn to walk back toward her dark, strobing corner. It seemed as though she was programmed to stand there, to allure, to humiliate, to make absolutely horny any wanting man walking through the door. Vladi knew he was one of these men. But he didn't care.





'Be cocky and funny'�.Be cocky and funny'�Be cocky and funny'�Be'�


During the morning of the fifth day of the fifth month upon the hour of 5am after trying to pee and missing the toilet by an inch, Vladi realized his mistakes as he stood before his toothpaste speckled mirror reciting the words of Mick Deangelo.

'I must be cocky man,'� he whispered while marveling at his dark stubble accumulated over two days.

He wanted to let his beard grow, although just a slight bit of growth was all he wished for, as he was trying to appear as American as he could, at least as the men he had seen on the west coast, ones he thought were successful with women wore there beards as such: half full, straight hairs lying across well-structured jaw lines. Like those guys from a show called Miami Vice? Or was it L.A. Law? Anyway, it was cool, or at least it appeared this way because he had seen many men of this trait leaving Emotions with more then one woman on many occasions.

Glancing downward on the linoleum floor at his oily urine, staring at its slight green Vladi wondered if it was the asparagus he'd eaten at the restaurant where he and Sacha had a late dinner. The one on the strip with movie'�well, people wanting to be movie stars, and maybe some were in their own right. Their own tainted dreams.
Am I a star, Vladi thought? Did anyone think I was important? I did have one of the most beautiful women with me. I'm sure they did.

He failed to see what he was doing to his life, and such a shame it had come to'�

The fifth day, the fifth month, and the time: 5pm.

Funny how ladies find excitement in the arrival of a courier, especially one with flowers in hand. Sacha watched as the man dressed in white, all white, walked briskly toward the front desk and leaned over to request the attention of the on-duty Security guard.
Something was said. The guard nodded. Then he turned and looked in her direction and pointed directly at her.

He then smiled and waved.

'Oh'�'�

The guard already scooped up the flowers and was walking toward her. Other employee's heads were turning, and then the same nosy screwballs were leaning over and whispering and giggling.

''�there for me again.'�

One of the women walked by her cubicle, a lady Sacha had never spoken to before. Probably because she was plain and fat and wore shirts with racecar numbers on them and flat soled shoes. The lady opened her small mouth, out came a big cliché, 'someone likes you!'�
Lady, get a friggin life





Not again. This man has clearly some issue of abandonment, and furthermore he's been waking up all hours of the night and reading some strange book, and watching dvd's. Probably porn.
I've got to end this. He's quite clingy. I feel like I'm being smothered. What happened?



A few months ago, while drunk, Sacha did something quite unbelievable when leaving Emotions. Stumbling around a dark corner she was greeted by an old friend. The form of this man, seen as a shadow looming from behind her was once a former employee of Emotions, a guy everyone knew as 'Celsius'� and upon his arrival Sacha could not believe he was still as big as she remembered. The girth of him, quite hefty, he was a solid, round being, cut arms the size cannons, one of them donning a tattoo, something she could only make out as a dragon, or was it a snake? She was too drunk to recall, furthermore she was struck by an ominous change: his head was no longer shaved; hair grew in spots once clean and shining under nightclub lights. He also grew a beard; well shaped and clinging dark and curly from his jaw line like an inanimate pet.

He spoke first.

'Umm'�you still fine,'� he said and grinned. He had two gold fronts. They reflected light. Sacha squinted.
'Celsius?'�
'That's right, in the..'�
'What brings you back?'�
'Just got out,'� he said. 'Took a vacation.'�
She knew this meant: I just got out of jail.
'Uh, huh?'�
'How you doin, wit yo fine ass.'�
'I'm ok.'�
'Still got dat booty I see.'�
'My claim to fame.'�
'You headin home?'�
'Yeah, my boyfriend-'
'Hol' up'�'�
'Got one of them now.'�
''�you got a man?'�
'Yes I do.'�

Suddenly she remembered how rough he was in bed. His frame smothering hers and how his body seemed on fire; his sweat was like acid, stung her gentle skin as he pinned her down and made love to her, she could still smell his cologne within her soul. There was something about him she missed.

'His name is Vladi,'� she said. 'He's a Turk'�'�
'The fuck is that?'�
'No, Russian, sorry.'�
'A Russian dude?'�
'Yep, a Russian. His name is Vladi Koznovik'�
'Vladi Koznowhat? 'Celsius said. 'He good to you?'�
Maybe too good, she thinks.
'He's a tad jealous.'�
'I think I'd be hatin my damn self.'�
'You know you had this.'�
'I sho did.'�
'Uh, huh.'�
'So you'n him tight?'�
'Kinda.'�
'What's tight?'�
She thought a moment: what's tight'�flowers'�calls all day'�gets weird when guys say hello'� clings'�
'We have our moments.'�
Celsius made a face. A face Sacha recalled one associated with-
'Has he hurt you?'� Celsius asked, 'Cuz you know I can handle my bidness.'�
'Shut up,'� Sacha said playfully.
Celsius didn't laugh. He was rubbing his hands together, face mischievous.
'Well it was nice seeing you.'� Sacha said.
'Yeah, you too.'�
'When you comin to da club again?'�
'Not sure.'�

Sacha turned and walked away. She could feel Celsius' eyes burning a hole through her as she descended around a well-lit corner. And then it hit her, the thing about his name. Was it because of his temper, or was it because all the women once thought of him as hot? She couldn't remember. Anyway he was back and he was dangerous; a pure opposite of Vladi, and the contrasts were all around the board: looks, and confidence, even clothes! Celsius had threads that clung to his frame, highlighting all the necessary dimensions of his build, furthermore he groomed well all without caring what others thought of him. Besides, if one were out of their mind enough to protest he would most likely kick their ass up and down the strip. That's just the way it goes down with Celly Cell. Celly will kill a muthafucka in a mad New York minute! Somebody said this once. Somebody witnessed it!

* * *
Sacha arrived home, spilling inside the door with her hair hanging over her eyes. It appeared as though to hide her shame. She looked ashamed.
Standing in the doorway, Vladi was running his index finger over his stomach, robe open, hairy chest exposed, 'Where the hell where you?'� he asked.
Sacha shook her head, pushed past his body and entered.
'Was at emotions,'� she said.
'Hmm.'�
'What?'�
'Nothing.'�
'We need to talk'�'�

The air seemed to leave the room.

Vladi closed his robe, sealing his exposed frame.
'You've been acting strange lately,'� Sacha said.
'How strange you say?'
'Just weird,'�
'How you mean weird?'�
'Vladi'�'�
'Explain'�'�
'What do you do all day?'�
Silence. Thinking. Vladi shrugged.
'See?'�
'See, what?'�
'You don't have your own life.'�
'I have life.'�
'How many times a day do you call me at work?'�
'I love you.'�
'I know.'�
More silence. More thinking. Sacha crossed her arms.
'You say I'm hindering you?'� Vladi asked. His robe fell open; he closed it as if to hide his body. He would do this when he felt bad, the fidgeting thing, twirling his fingers, pulling on his shirt, tugging his belt. He appeared often as though he were out of control of his body, his life.
'Just need some space, ok?'� Sacha said.
'Space?'�
'Room to breathe, Vladi.'�
'But'�'�
'Forget it!'� Sacha snapped. 'I'm going to bed.'�
Sacha was off toward the bedroom. Vladi stared at her rear-end, a nice one it was, heart shaped, round, soft and flawless. He realized he would not be able to touch it that night or perhaps ever again.
'But'�.I '�love'�you'�'�



Is that the flower guy, again?


This time the security guard never bothered to look in the direction of Sacha. Whatever. How mundane and overwrought would it have been for him to do this? It was no longer a surprise. It was now a complete and utter joke. Here we go again. This guy needs to let up. He needs a life.
Sacha was on the phone, seething.
'Answer!'�
To her surprise there was no answer. She let the phone ring at her home over ten times. And then it occurred to her that Vladi was maybe in the car, outside, waiting.

She had decided to take an early lunch break, I'll try again, she thought. She grabbed the phone from the base mounted on the wall, pressed nine for an outside line, dialed 5-5-5- 1-0-2-2'�
It began ringing.

'Hello?'� someone answered.
'Vladi?'�
'Vla'�who?'�
'Vladi, stop messin around!'�
'I aint messin!'�
'Do I have the wrong number?'�
'Nah, baby'�'�
'Huh'�'�
''�you dialed it right.'�
'Who is this?'�
It was the dialect she then recalled being from a man who didn't seem to care about anything, anything but pain, anything but intimidation, anything but control, anything but her.
'Celsius?'�
'You got it, what yo fine ass doin?'�
'I'm at work!'�
'Work?'�
'Yeah, asshole. Why're you in my house?'�
'I was helping you out.'�
'Helping me?'�
'I solved yo problem.'�
'What problem?'�
'Let's put it dis way'�'�
'Huh?'�
''�they'll be no mo commie shit going on in yo crib.'�
'What the f'�'�
Oh, no, Vladi'�




Sacha remembered the sinister look on Celsius' face, how he was rubbing his hands together is if preparing to eat or take on a task. She began thinking, I must have led him on somehow, I must have given off a vibe, like I was ready for him again. Maybe I had that look I used to get when I knew he'd take me home and give me what I wanted, what I wanted without questions. I liked that about him. There were no words, no fears, just a man doing what he had to do and what I wanted him to do'�.

The phone made a clicking sound.

'Hello?'� Sacha said.
'You awful quiet,'� Celsius replied.
'Where's Vladi?'�
'Girl he gon' went back to Russia.'�
'Bullshit, Celly!'�
'Um serious!'�
'I'm calling the cops, get out of my house!'�
'I said he gon!''�
Celsius hung up.
Sacha stared at the phone in her hand, as though it had committed the offense.
And there was a moment she wished it did indeed.

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