After leaving the restaurant Ela went back to her apartment.  Several times she looked over her shoulder to see if Red was following her but she never saw him.  She’d had a stalker before and it was an experience she didn’t want to repeat.  Even though she didn’t see him she took an indirect route home.  Once there Ela called to order a taxi and lugged a couple suitcases to the curb.  On her way back she could take the metro, but it was too much trouble now with these heavy bags.

The taxi arrived and she negotiated a price, 250 lira, to take her from Bornova to Alsancak.  In the back of the cab the seat belt had long been lost between the seat cushions.  Ela tried to fish for it to no avail.  When she gave up they were already a third of the way there.  She told herself it wasn’t a big deal, but in the back of her mind she morbidly thought of a small story in the back of tomorrow’s edition of Yeni Asır—“Passenger dead in taxi accident; was not buckled.”

In the end they made it alive to Alsancak.  She had the driver drop her off in front of Sevinç café.  From there it was a short walk down Kɪbrɪs Şehitleri Street to Black’s.  Kɪbrɪs Şehitleri was one of the most vibrant streets in the city.  Down it was every type of store and restaurant, foreign and Turkish.  Down every side street attached to it were dozens of bars, many of which seemed to have an evening gloom even in the middle of the afternoon.  The street was restricted to pedestrians, but that didn’t stop scooters from recklessly zipping through the crowd to make deliveries.

When Ela got to Black’s she stopped for a moment to admire the sign that hung above the store.  She had designed it herself.  It was, for all practical purposes, the only thing she had actually done with her degree in graphic design.  In university she’d had an English teacher who one day mentioned that his own degree was in political science.  The class was scandalized; what was he doing teaching English when he had studied politics?  The teacher laughed.  “You all are so young.”  He condescendingly explained “You think what you get your degree in determines who you are for the rest of your life.  You’ll see how it is when you graduate.” 

Ela entered Black’s.  It was a haberdashery that sold hair dyes, perfume and suntan lotion.  The real draw of the store though was the contents of Ela’s suitcases.  Three years prior Black was at an impromptu party at an acquaintance’s home.  There, a woman who had just returned from a trip from Munich held the other ladies' rapt attention in relating what she had done in Germany.  Not about seeing Nymphenburg Castle or gothic churches, but about buying Vichy face wash.  That and other items like anti-wrinkle eyelid lifting cream and Clinique youth surge age decelerating moisturizer.  The other ladies were all envious of her finds while the men were at a loss as to how paying 1,000 liras for a half ounce bottle of lotion could be a bargain.  Except Black.  He didn’t much care whether there was any true value to these tiny bottles, he saw an opportunity.

His plan was simple: go to Germany, load up on cosmetics and creams, come back and sell them.  It was not entirely clear why women in Turkey, a less well-off country, were being asked to pay more than twice as much, but Black didn’t care much about that.  It was also not entirely clear why Black was denied a German visa, this he did care about.  He’d already paid the first month’s rent on the retail space on Kɪbrɪs Şehitleri and begun renovating it when he found out that he’d been rejected.  He suspected that the cosmetics companies had found out about his plan to undercut their market segmentation and blocked his application.  He shared this theory often, only his mother suggested another possibility—that it was due to an old assault charge that Black had against him.  Black completely ignored this theory, preferring to stick with his own ideas about an international conspiracy against him.

When Black explained this sinister plot to the young designer he’d hired to make his sign, without much thought, she replied that she had a Schengen visa which allowed her to go to any European Union country.  For Black the matter was instantly settled, Ela would go in his place.  This would be even better, he could stay in Izmir and focus on running the store and she would have a better perspective on what women in Turkey wanted.  Ela agreed to go one time to Germany.  If she didn’t then she risked losing her first client and she’d never been to Germany.   A month later, when a second client had failed to materialize and Black called her, asking her to make another trip, she agreed.  Now Ela had lost track of the number of times she’d been to Munich.  It was the only German city with direct flights to Izmir, going somewhere else would cut into their profit margins.

While not as risky as smuggling hashish their operation was definitely illegal.  Ela never declared any of the commercial goods that she carried through the airport and Black sold all the items she brought back off the books.  He only reported the low end items that he obtained in Turkey to the government.  The risk involved, never a major point of concern, was now mostly forgotten about.  Black was hardly the only tax dodger in Turkey.

Moments after entering the store Black came out of his back office to meet her.  Unlike Red, Black fully embraced his name.  He dyed his already dark hair a perfect jet black.  He wore black shirts with black suits.  He had a gold ring with a prominent black onyx jewel.  He put his three shop girls in black tank-tops, black miniskirts and black pumps.

“Ela come on back.”  Black normally gave overly warm greetings but when Ela arrived with the goods he was straight to business.  So much of his well-being rode on the contents of her suitcases; he didn’t have time for pleasantries.  They stepped into his little back office.  Like on his store floor, the walls and fixtures of Black’s office were white, which made his darkness stand out even more.  Ela was a burst of color in the monotone room.  “You were successful then?”  He asked.

“Of course.”  Ela opened one suitcase to reveal clear bags full of pricey little lotions and cosmetics.  Black’s mood instantly lifted upon seeing them.  Ela had already told him on the phone that she had them, but Black never quite believed her until he saw the goods himself.  

“Wonderful dear, wonderful.”  He gave Ela an air kiss to each cheek, a delayed traditional greeting.  “Let’s have a drink to our success.”  Black poured them both some whiskey from a bottle he kept in his desk.  

They clinked their glasses together “Şerefe.” Black drank more deeply than Ela.  “There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.”  He stated “The shop is doing well, thanks to you.  So I’d like you to start working here in between trips.  You’d earn a wage here in addition to your… commission for bringing in these goods.”

Ela made no attempt to soften what she thought of this idea “Be one of your little shop assistants, have the men asking me to get something off the top shelf so they can see up my tiny skirt?  I don’t think so.”

“You wouldn’t have to be a shop assistant.”  Black defended “I’d make you floor manager.  We’d get you a nice black pantsuit.”

Ela still wasn’t impressed.  “Why would you want me here anyway?  I take enough of your money as it is.”

“I’m running a store that sells beauty goods here.  Beauty.  I need beautiful people working here.”

“Stick your head out of your store; you’ll see plenty of cute girls walking down the street.  I’m sure you can find one that will work for less than me.”

“Cute sure, there are cute girls everywhere.  That’s why I need true beauties in my store.  And you, you look like a model, you’re perfect.”

“You need to get your eyes checked.”  Ela snickered.  “Models are always tall; I’m as short as they come.”

 “Ah, they’re not as tall as you think, everyone looks taller on TV.  Height doesn’t matter.  You would fit in so well here.” Black purred and waggled his eyebrows.

Ela tasted bile in her mouth.  “Just my money please.  Black grudgingly opened his safe to pay Ela in cash.  In three days she earned what her peers earned in a month.  She put the smaller suitcase inside the bigger one and made her exit.

Once Ela had left she considered going to the Kordon for a drink but decided that she was ready to go home.  She walked several blocks to Çankaya metro station.  At the station there were several heads of ancient columns on display.  They had been found while tunnels for the metro were being dug.  They were believed to be Roman, 2nd century CE.  In most countries something like that would be in a museum, but the museums in Turkey already had more classical stone work than they knew what to do with.  The column heads had been there for years, but Red’s rant about the contrasts in Izmir made Ela give them new notice.