Chapter 35: Nightclubbing

Author: Steven Keaton
Date: 26th February 1998

Erica contemplated the napkin for a second before filling it full of bubbly snot. She was coming down with a cold. Not a surprising thing in Helsinki.

What the fuck did Renny Harlin want? And why the hell was Flikka acting funny? Erica pondered about Anttilanien and his stupid 'Eye of the Tigress'. Should she tell Flikka? Or should she find out what was going on with him first? After finishing her business in the bathroom and successfully avoiding the Planet Hollywood staff, Erica made her way back to the table.

Upon returning to the table Erica discovered Flikka's absence. Thinking that he just ducked out for a slash, she sat down to wait. Five minutes passed and Erica flagged down a passing waiter travelling at high-speed and ordered a large, fruity, alchohol-laden cocktail to ease her nerves. By the time the waiter had returned with the drink and Erica had consumed it twenty minutes had passed.

Full of confusion and apprehension, Erica again flagged down the waiter and this time inquired if he had seen a person matching Flikka's description leave twenty minutes ago.

"Yeah babe, he like, got up in a real hurry, his face was all flustered, and he, like, raced out of here like a bat out of hell. I remember because he almost knocked me flat in his rush to get out of here.Stupid mofo should have watched where he was going." It was the worst impression of an American accent Erica had ever heard.

"Thankyou". Erica mumbled as she collapsed into her chair and ordered another large cocktail. What was Flikka up to? It was really starting to grate on her and she badly wanted to know.

After the food came and Erica paid for the meals, she left the Planet Hollywood. Out in the car park she could hear raised voices coming from two rows away. One of them sounded like Flikka. She snuck between a big four-wheel drive and a Volkswagen beetle. Peering over the bonnet of the four-wheel drive, she could see Flikka, Renny and two very buff looking bouncer types in a heated exchange.

Erica was just about to have a go at them for acting like boys in the playground when the taller of the steroid abusers hefted a big club and connected it with the back of Flikka's head.

A big limosuine burled around the corner and pulled up next to the now silent group. The limo's rear door opened and Erica could see Anttilanien sitting in the back seat drawing on the fattest cigar she had ever seen. The bouncers each grabbed an arm of the now deflated Flikka and hoisted him into the Limo. After they had all piled in, the driver started the engine and the sleek black car glided menacingly away.