When we get outside, we see the other ladies: about nine or ten female neighbours, all dressed in the colourful outfits that Scarlett gave away so generously on the day she moved into her flat here in Jungleland, all waiting for the First Lady to open the ball.
Scarlett is wearing her leopard leggings and her hot 'n' horny T-shirt, as instructed by Barbara, who puts her new best friend in front of the troops before she joins the ranks: "You show us how it's done, and we follow."
Scarlett objects: "Wait a minute… You want me not only to join the aerobic class but also to teach you all?"
All smiles, nods and excitement. Everyone expects a lot of fun. The ladies from up-town do this every day, so it has to be great, and Scarlett promised healthy, entertaining activities without those ridiculous prices of the professional gyms, so…
"But… I'm no instructor. I just followed classes."
"We don't care. You show us how it's done, and if you make a mistake, we won't blame you.", Barbara says.
"We don't have music.", Scarlett objects.
"We can sing.", Barbara says.
"And what are you doing here? This is Ladies' Night.", Scarlett asks the shadows behind the group.
"Nothing. Just watching. We're boys. We like to watch women, especially when they're dancing and singing."
Tomasz.
The rest of the gang nods with encouraging smiles.
I object: "This is Ladies' Night. Either you dance, you sing, or you get out of here."
"Do you dance? Or do you sing?", Tomasz asks.
This is Jungleland, where the young wolves dispute the dominance of the alpha male as much as they can. For them, it's a game.
"I don't sing and I don't dance. I'm the one who throws you out.", I say.
Tomasz is not impressed. He takes a step back and grabs something the size of a dumpster garbage container: "Are you also the one with the ghetto blaster? You have to be from the ghetto first. What's Ladies' Night without…" He pushes a few buttons and the speakers start to produce music. «Ladies' Night» by Kool and the Gang.
"Mmm, oh yeah. Oh, what a night…"
One of the boys raps over the music:
"The feeling's right, the feeling's good,
the ladies are getting in the mood,
The boys are coming from the hood
They're on their way to Hollywood"
The ladies are getting in the mood.
I have to admit: the guys have wit. I say: "Kool and the Gang? Really? Your parents gave you that record? That song is from the 1970s, 1979 to be exact, and it's a MAN singing it. This is Ladies' Night, remember? How about the version from Lil Kim? Can you sing that high? Either you sing, or you dance, or you're out of here."
"We don't have the money to buy all those fancy new versions of the same old song.", Tomasz protests.
"I have it on my phone. Does your noise machine have a Bluetooth connection? I even have the instrumental version, so you guys can sing the raps yourself. Does it have a karaoke connector? Do you have a mike? Can you rap in female voices?"
Tomasz is a good sport. He takes the challenge: "You give me ten minutes. We go to the store and get the mikes, and then we'll show you who are the best female singers in this town."
"The shops are closed."
"That's why we only need ten minutes. It would take much longer when we'd have to wait until closing time."
A good alpha male doesn't bite and doesn't fight. He motivates the young pups to play, to join the hunt, to have fun doing what they like best. These kids don't waste their time; they listen all day long to music and imitate their heroes, artists from the ghetto who became world-famous. Any good alpha male would take the chance to make his pack stronger, by giving even his prospective enemies a chance to join the team. It's the law of the jungle. It's how things work in Jungleland.
In the next quarter of an hour, Scarlett explains the moves and their names to the rest of the ladies, making them practise and warm up at the same time, while the boys from the hood prepare the equipment. I connect my spiPhone to the sound blaster and upload every song the boys claim to know. And then we start.
This is a jungle. The law of the jungle is a fantastic phenomenon: every animal gives its life to survive. Scarlett takes the lead in the dancing, pushing her ladies to the limit, beating and jumping: don't give up until the music stops. The beat is an outlet for her anger. The aerobic class mixes with Tai Chi, Oriental martial arts, boxing, high kicks and low kicks, swept up by the music and the aggressive raps of the hood. That's the other side of the jungle, the hunters, the alpha males, who all want to show, who want to show off, and a show it is. I said «Ladies' Night» and tried to scare the boys off with female voices, but they know more about music than I do. They imitate their favourite acts with an unexpected flair. The singing and the raps drive the ladies to follow. The beat, the energy of the dancers, flashes back to the singers and rappers. Magic falls out of the sky.
That's what music does to people, everywhere, always, but it's amazing when you see it happen around you, when you see doors and windows open. Heads come out to see what's happening. Children clap. Lil Kim, Angie Martinez, Left Eye, Da Brat and Missy Elliot, all in white, male skins, but with black female voices, do «Ladies' Night» five times in a row. Then four other boys take over and tell the ladies to «Shut Up» as The Black Eyed Peas, while number five does a spectacular acrobatic dance act. Now the fun starts. We do «Venus» from Bananarama, we do «Walk Like An Egyptian» from The Bangles and we finish with «Rapper's Delight» by the Sugar Hill Gang (the loooong version).
We have to stop. The ladies are not trained and some already limp. The audience applauds and cheers. I grab the microphone and say: "The rule is that either you dance, or you sing, or you get out of here."
Some start to sing: "We Want More", but before the entire neighbourhood joins them, I add: "This is no show. This is training. And for the ones who think this is a show: please be so kind and buy your ticket at the entrance."
"That, was fun. Tomorrow, again, same time, same place?", Barbara gasps.
"How about once a week, so we can all recoup from our sore muscles?", Scarlett suggests.
Most of the spandex ladies agree, and also the boys and several bystanders.
The cooling down is eighteen floors of steps to Scarlett's flat. While Scarlett's under the shower, I prepare some sandwiches and fill two glasses with milk. "Protein, for the muscles.", I say, when she falls on the couch.
"Thanks, Red. I haven't danced so much since my wedding party."
"You're getting quite popular here. Two more weeks like this, and the neighbours will vote you for President.", I say.
"Too bad, for them. As soon as I've solved my problems, I'm out of here."
I don't want to start a discussion. I was only trying to make conversation. Quickly I change the topic: "I need to start early tomorrow. While you were enjoying yourself down there, I received a message from The Diplomat. He wants me to do some work in the building of the Climate Conference. I may be late at the packages depot. Can you cover for me?"
"Pfff. Another working day. I'm looking forward to the weekend. Don't you spies have a weekend?"
"When I'm on a mission, I have no choice: when there's work, I have to do it. At night and during the weekends, there is always more action than during the week, but I try to get one or two days free every week."
"All that for a lousy… how much was it they pay you?"
I smile: "I'm not doing this for the money, Scarlett. Did you ask your aerobics class to pay you for teaching them? We do what we do because we enjoy doing it."
"Tell my muscles I'm having fun, Red, tomorrow morning, when I can't get out of bed…"
We finish our simple dinner and say goodbye. The next morning, I go to the Climate Conference first, to copy documents and deliver them to several offices. While I'm running around, and also later on, when I'm delivering the packages as a courier, I have time to think, about Raissa Sikorsky. A ministry is a crowded place. There must be lots of visitors. There must be a way to sneak in. All we need is a good plan. The biggest problem is the distance. By train, bus or car, we'll lose two days, getting there and back again. For a plan, we'll need time to walk around, so we can see the options and possibilities. I have no idea where to find those two days. The conference will be over soon. That ends my mission here too.
During lunch, Scarlett and I talk about it.
"We have many problems and not one idea how to solve them.", I say.
"Well? What do you do to get ideas? Creativity is something you can learn, right?"
She's right.
"We can go jogging.", I say.
"We can sit on the couch too. My legs still hurt from yesterday's Ladies' Night. I did 45 kilometres on the bicycle this morning, and you want me to spend my afternoon running?"
"When you run, your blood runs faster. Your brain receives more oxygen, until three times as much. Oxygen produces ideas. Also, when you run, you see more than when you sit on a couch. Every impression contributes to the creative process. Jogging is an excellent suggestion. When the Climate Conference is over, the Higher Powers want me somewhere else. The clock is ticking. If we want to beat the clock, we'll have to run."
We take an hour for a nap after lunch, to catch up for the lack of sleep we had lately, and to digest our «high taste - low calories» lunch properly. Scarlett changes into her hot leopard outfit (she washed it last night and hung it out on the balcony to dry, not thinking she would need it so soon again). Then we go to Pension Sophie, where she waits outside while I go to my room to change my courier uniform for trainers, shorts and a T-shirt.
We decide to run to the centre: the park and the green surroundings of the city are nice for clearing your head, but we're looking for inspiration, and there's more to see in the commercial streets. No need for speed. A slow trot gives us air to talk, exchange ideas.
"We can hi-jack a helicopter and fly to Warsaw. It would save us two days. You can torture Raissa on our way back and threaten to throw her out of the plane.", I say.
"She doesn't deserve such a quick and painless death. Can you fly a helicopter?"
"I can handle a kitchen mixer. How much more complicated can a helicopter be?"
Suddenly, Scarlett turns around, interested in everything behind us, and whispers: "We have to go back, take another route. Do you see that woman over there, in the pink Lady Lustful look? That's Maja, my friend from the gym. I called her to arrange the reservation for the Boss in «Blaszczykowski», the restaurant of her husband Roger. She can't see me like this. She can't see me with you. I just can't be seen with you, not in these clothes."
I smile at the lady, who already recognised Scarlett and is coming our way. I whisper back: "Too late. Lady Lustful is on her way to say hi to us. Don't be afraid. Fear is a useless emotion. Use your wonderful brain to find a way out of this situation. Turn the advantages around. Turn your best friend into your worst enemy and your worst enemy into your best friend. That's what Sun Tzu would do."
Scarlett thinks and whispers: "Fashion is a girl's best friend."
"I thought diamonds are a girl's best friend."
Scarlett's confident smile is back again: "That was last year. Fashion changes rapidly."
A voice like a Christmas carol behind Scarlett says: "I recognise that big black butt of yours anywhere, luv'. How are you? I haven't seen you in Âges."
Scarlett turns around and gives an Oscar-winning performance of seeing her best friend for the first time in ages: "Maja. How nice to see you. How are you? I haven't seen you in Âges. What's happened to you lately? By the way, thanks for arranging that reservation for me, the other day, luv'. My boss hooked an important client. It made him very happy. He gave me a bonus… Enough to… Well, I'm not going to tell you how much, of course. Our kind of people never talks about money. People might mistake and think we don't have enough of it, ha, ha."
Maja laughs as if she were a funny sidekick in an Oscar-winning film: "You're welcome, luv'. And now you're running to the shops, to spend your bonus on new clothes? You look horrible. Did your mirror break? That's seven years of bad luck, luv'."
A shiver runs down my spine: these two women are best friends, but if your best friend treats you like Maja treats Scarlett… If I'd invite my worst male enemy for a beer, we would have a better time.
Scarlett feigns to be shocked: "Buying new clothes? I've just done that. This is the fashion for next year, luv'. I thought you kept up with the trends, but… when I see how you're dressed… Sorry. I should judge neither you nor your lack of taste. You're my friend, you've helped me out and I will help you out, with fashion advice to save your social life.
» Haven't you noticed how rapidly street fashion changes? Look at the jeans all those teenage girls wear, with big holes on the knees, paint all over them, and they pay 500 zlotys or more for each one of those. Do you remember those flashy, shiny outfits and expensive brands we used to wear in the gym? Look around in Jungleland: all the junkies and whores wear them now, telling us with their T-shirts about Another Dumb Idiot Doing A Sport. I'm not a trend-follower, luv'; I'm a trend-setter, and I saw it was the time for a change. This is a designer outfit, a pair of leopard-skin leggings (tiger-skin is already passé), your hair in a just-had-my-siesta-look, and best of all: a T-shirt that calls the attention with a shocking text. Calling attention is the new fashion. Everybody calls attention nowadays, with tattoos, with flashy colours, with fashion and whatever. They are so busy with getting attention, they can't even find a friend to take their picture. Each Selfie proves the lack of any social life. You're not like that, and I'm not like that. We're the upper class, luv'."
Maja doesn't agree with her defeat; she walks around it and changes the subject: "I haven't seen you at the gym lately. I miss you so much, luv'. You were always the trend-setter of our group. Now, they gave me that job, and I don't really know what to do."
"The gym is so passé, luv'. I have a personal trainer now. He does my cooking and takes care I get the right amount of exercise at the right moments. You've got to admit he's kinda cute. Come here, Red. Give the lady a hand."
As a proudly presented prize poodle, I follow orders and kiss Maja's hand with tenderness and devotion.
"Are you chasing young boys now, Scarlett? Shame on you."
I confess: "As a matter of fact, ma'am, I'm chasing her. She's faster than I am. When we do the uphill-running exercise, she wins."
"And you like it when an old black woman humiliates you?"
"Well, to be honest with you, ma'am: I prefer to run behind her instead of ahead; it gives me the chance to admire the view. The lady has a beautiful big black behind, butt, but don't get me wrong, please, no offence. You also have an attractive bum."
Maja doesn't like to be put in her place. Her smile is sweet as meringue, but her tongue spits snake venom to Scarlett: "All those new fashions don't impress me, luv'. I like to see results, numbers. As we are best friends and share our most intimate secrets, I know from the last time at the gym that your naked weight is 80,437 kilos. There's a pharmacy over there. I invite you to show me your new balance. Let's go there and have a look."
Scarlett doesn't dare to refuse. She follows her executioner friend to the gallows of overweight without saying a thing. Maja enjoys her little victory and changes conversation smoothly to another battlefield where she feels at home: "Did you hear, by the way, that our restaurant was selected for tonight's Ladies' Night? There's this big, boring conference. Of course, it's all men, trying to be important, but quite a lot of these men have their wives with them. The organization thought it would be a good idea to invent some decent entertainment for these ladies, so they came to us. Roger suggested a dinner night with a fashion show, make-over and styling, with a professional photoshoot at the end. The ladies can use the photos for their PR, their portfolio or their Facebook page. What do you think? They are coming. All the important ladies of the world are coming to OUR restaurant for the party. I'm so excited. We have even invited a famous singer to entertain the lady audience during dinner: Kool from Kool and the Gang. Ladies' Night. Remember? It was a big hit when we were young."
Scarlett is black. If she would have been white, she would have been red with anger and green with envy by now. But she's used to this type of mud-fights; women have them regularly. She smiles and gives another Oscar-winning performance of good behaviour: "Ladies' Night? How wonderful for you. And you're the host of the evening? Or did you hire Michelle Obama to hang up the fir coats and escort the ladies to their seats?"
It doesn't work like Scarlett hoped. Maja rattles on: "No, Michelle Obama is between the guests. And so is Andrea, the wife of the Polish Prime Minister, and Ruby, the mistress of the former Italian President, and Raissa, the Polish Minister of Social Affairs and—"
"Raissa Sikorsky?", Scarlett interrupts.
Maja is surprised: "Yes? She's a speaker at the congress, talking about the effects of Global Warming on unemployment, or the effect of unemployment on Global Warming, I'm not quite sure. Talking about unemployment… Is it true that Treesome fired you? Are you without a job?"
More venom. There must be a green trail behind us as thick and wide as the red carpet at Oscar Night.
We enter the pharmacy. Scarlett steps on the scaffold of the weighing scales and waits until Maja puts a coin into it. Tension. 80,437 kilos of bad memories kill the time that the mechanical juror needs to come to its verdict.
76,539 kilos.
4 kilos less than last time, and Scarlett didn't even take her shoes off.
Scarlett suddenly feels light as a feather. She drops her actress mask and shows her genuine smile again: "Me? Fired? No, luv'. They offered me a much better job: I'm their first dancer and creative director during their world tour. I was so tired of sitting on my big, black butt, doing stupid office work that goes on and on… I needed action, something creative. This new job was just what I was looking for, and they came to me, knocked on my door, almost begging me to do it. I couldn't say no, of course. But, now I think of it… Did you hire Kool and the Gang? a MAN? For your Ladies' Night? Oh, dear…"
Maja's glorious victory has turned into a nightmare, thanks to Scarlett's last two words: "What do you mean, «oh, dear»?"
"Kool and the Gang is soooo seventies, luv'. Those ladies are modern women. They are not your age, you know. Michelle and Andrea and Ruby grew up with a new generation of artists. Your Ladies' Night will be the flop of the year. But… Did you say your little party is tonight? Okay. No problem. Don't worry. I'm your friend and I will help you out. You call Kool and tell him to stay cool at home. I'll call my new colleagues and tell them we have tonight's rehearsal at your place, with dinner and a professional photoshoot included. We can use the photos for publicity for our upcoming world tour. They are all here, you know. You're lucky. One call from me, your friend, and you'll have the Ladies' Night that will put your Roger's restaurant back on the number 1 of places-to-be in Krakow, even the number 1 of Poland."
Maja does not understand what Scarlett is talking about: "What are you talking about?"
"What? Who! Well… Lil Kim, Angie Martinez, Left Eye, Da Brat and Missy Elliot, of course. They are all here in Krakow because they wanted me to prepare them for their world tour. I travel with them as lead dancer and creative director. Oh, and we have the Black Eyed Peas as a support act. How much did you promise to pay Kool? I'm sure, for that money, we can arrange something better. Ladies' Night! And you invite a MAN! You really can't do anything right without my advice, can you, luv'?"
* * *
"You can't be serious, Scarlett."
"Raissa Sikorsky is coming, Red. If you don't shoot, you don't score. I had to take the chance. The chicken lives a safe and comfortable life, but the sparrow takes a little risk now and then. You told me you had no idea how to get close to Raissa: now we can get close to her, and there will be no male company standing behind her. It's Ladies' Night: the bodyguards have to wait in front of the door, like good watchdogs, with their tails between their legs."
"And how are you going to convince Lil Kim and her black sisters to show up?"
"I thought you were there too, last night, in the park in Jungleland. Haven't you seen our show? All we need is a little make-up, some wigs, some dresses for the boys, so they look like Lil Kim and Missy Elliot and Will.I.Am. But that's your job. You're the spy. You know about wigs and make-up and how to turn Polish male white trash into black American female superstars. Don't you?"
What can I say…
"You can't trust Tomasz and his gang. What will happen when Michelle Obama misses her jewels and they find them in Tomasz's pocket?"
"Maja will pay us 40.000 zlotys plus a five-star dinner, for one hour of work. Trust works two ways, Red. We can't trust Tomasz to be honest, but if we pay him that much money, we can trust him to do what we want. 40.000 zlotys, divided by 20: that's two to four weeks of salary for people in Jungleland. You go find 20 black wigs and a few buckets of paint; I take the platinum credit card and go for clothes. Don't worry, Red. It will work out fine. These kids are good at this. They don't do anything else but listen to music and sing the songs of their heroes. And now you give them a chance to BE their heroes, to give a show for Michelle Obama and the other First Ladies. Do you think they will ruin that chance? They will pay 2.000 zlotys each to get a chance like this. Trust them. Trust me. We can do this. It will be fun."
She runs off, stops, runs back to me, gives me a hug and a big kiss on the cheek, says: "I've lost four kilos in one week. I thought that was impossible. Thank you. If we can do the impossible, we can do this Ladies' Night too. Don't worry. Trust me.", and she runs off again.
* * *
Of course, I trust Scarlett. She told Tomasz and the gang to behave, not even think of stealing anything, getting drunk or smoking weed, not before, not after, and certainly not during the show. Scarlett has… a certain way… of making herself clear: "Y'all missin' ya buck, with the fuck. I be the one chockin' the paragraphs, with laughs. Getcha back up on ya right path. This is Ladies' Night, booty shakin'. If it's too hot for ya, then get the fuck up out of the kitchen. Lay another dirty finger on this big bad beauty Miss Lady Rap Singer, and ya'll be the ones to blame, as the flame, keeps risin' to the top, and I don't stop." Or something like that.
Tomasz is not stupid. He's poor. There's a difference. He has a big mouth, but he appreciates what Scarlett did for his sister and he wants to pay back the trust she gave him. The boys behave. Scarlett's aerobic class and the boys, dressed as girls, fill the stage with energy. The show gets a standing ovation from the First Ladies, and when one black leading lady (Scarlett) invites another black leading lady (her name is classified, top-secret, international security) to enter the stage, and a Ruby lady follows and… My lips are sealed. Nobody will ever know what happens on a night when First Ladies are having fun. As a member of the Secret Service, they can trust me to keep a secret.
Nobody ever noticed these weren't the real Lil Kim and company: First Ladies prefer to look at themselves and to be looked at; they have little interest in others. The dinner is spectacular too. The 40.000 zlotys, paid in cash when we leave, were also welcomed like long-lost friends. As the manager of the band, I collect seven business cards from ladies who want to book the act for their private parties when the world tour is over. The entire Ladies' Night is one big success. It puts Roger's restaurant back at number 1 on the list of places-to-be in Poland and Eastern Europe. Oh, what a night. And the feeling is right. There is only one tiny little problem: Raissa Sikorsky missed it.