Chapter 212: One Dollar
"So fast?" Frank shot Pinkman a strange look.
Pinkman's face reddened with embarrassment and a touch of irritation—he knew it wasn't something to be proud of.
"I get it, I get it," Frank said, patting Pinkman on the shoulder.
"I—" Pinkman started to explain, but Frank had already walked past him, heading toward a girl who had just finished with a client and stepped out of a private room.
"Long time no see," Frank greeted her.
"You? I thought you were dead," Svetlana said, cigarette dangling from her lips, eyes widening in surprise.
"Just rumors. Come with me," Frank said calmly.
"Another out-call? Give me a minute, I'll get dressed," Svetlana replied.
"Take everything you want with you," Frank said.
"What do you mean?" Svetlana froze.
"I'm here to buy your freedom. I'm getting you out of here," Frank told her.
"This is Sasha's place. I belong to her," Svetlana said, her tone cautious.
Hearing Frank's words, the cashier at the bar stood up, a hostile look on her face—Frank was clearly causing trouble.
"Do you have Sasha's number?" Frank asked her.
He called. A woman's voice answered on the other end.
"I'm taking Svetlana with me. You've got plenty of girls. You won't miss one, will you?" Frank got straight to the point.
"Svetlana? Oh, I vaguely remember her. But she's mine. Why should I let you take her?" Sasha replied.
"You bought her too, didn't you? Smuggled her into the U.S. After all these years, you've made back your investment ten times over. Probably more. Give her a shot at freedom. What do you say?" Frank said.
"I've never restricted their freedom," Sasha replied.
She didn't need to. These Russian girls were all undocumented. They didn't speak English. They were stranded in a foreign land. If immigration caught them, they'd be deported. Svetlana was the rare exception—self-taught English with a heavy Russian accent. But even so, she'd never dared leave.
Sasha never had to worry about them running away.
"Still, she's my girl. You're just taking her from me without even asking—that's a bit rude, don't you think?" Sasha said.
"I'm offering to buy. You name the price," Frank said.
"How much are you offering?" Sasha asked.
"One dollar," Frank said.
"Deal," Sasha answered without hesitation.
Like she said, she never really restricted them. Even if Svetlana had left without calling, Sasha wouldn't have had any real recourse—she couldn't exactly go to the police.
But it would've made her lose face. One of her girls stolen away without a word, and she didn't even raise a fuss? What would others think? In this business, reputation matters.
Frank gave her an out. She took it. Mutual understanding.
"But why her?" Sasha asked. "She's old stock. Nearly used up. I was planning to cycle that batch out soon."
"If you want new girls, just wait a couple months. I've got a new shipment coming—grew up around Chernobyl. All young, just turned eighteen, some even still virgins. Dirt cheap. I can give you a discount."
Frank didn't react. He gave Sasha respect; she returned the favor.
Besides, Sasha had heard whispers about Frank. Word was, some high-end product circulating the market lately came from him—or from someone called Heisenberg.
"Chernobyl, huh? You've got guts," Frank said, raising an eyebrow.
Chernobyl—some knew, some didn't. But everyone had heard the name. A nuclear disaster site that nearly irradiated all of Europe. It took hundreds of thousands to contain it. A world-shaking catastrophe.
The area was still a no-go zone, bathed in radiation. Dirt-poor. No one dared live there. Smuggling girls out of that region was dirt cheap.
Sasha was bold, reckless even, to source "product" from there.
"So, how many do you want?" Sasha asked.
"No thanks. I just need Svetlana," Frank replied and hung up.
"I spoke to your boss. You're mine now," Frank said, handing a dollar bill to the cashier.
"What are you standing there for? Go pack your things," he told Svetlana.
"Oh." Svetlana nodded, gave Frank a strange look, and went to gather her belongings.
A few minutes later, she returned, pulling a suitcase behind her. Everything she had was inside.
Frank, Pinkman, and Svetlana left Sasha's house and drove to Sheila's place.
"Sweetheart!" Sheila rushed to greet Frank and gave him a hug.
"Oh—we have guests," she said quickly upon noticing Pinkman and Svetlana, then hurried off to make tea.
Frank introduced everyone. Mostly he introduced Pinkman—Sheila already knew Svetlana. Back when Officer Eddie's estate was being dealt with, Frank had invited Svetlana to help.
At the time, she'd shown up practically naked and started undressing as soon as she walked in. Sheila never forgot it.
"Where's Karen?" Frank asked.
"She went out with some friends," Sheila replied.
Frank called Karen, asking her to come home—he had something to discuss.
While waiting, Sheila started her livestream. This was her regular time slot.
"Your girlfriend?" Svetlana asked, watching in shock as Sheila began her educational livestream, holding up a large rubber toy. She turned to Frank with a puzzled tone.
"Sheila… has her own hobbies," Frank replied tactfully.
(End of Chapter)
---