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I had to go for coffee. "Hog" I made the same as Peter Ivanovich, only I put a couple of pieces of cane sugar on a saucer. After thinking about it, I put them around the cup.
While I was making coffee, new faces appeared in the conference room: two middle-aged men and a woman. When she saw the cup I put in front of Akhmadulin, she smiled sarcastically.
" Tea? Coffee? " I inquired.
Akhmadulin nonchalantly put seven lumps of sugar in the cup and stirred it with a spoon.
Having received a new order, I jumped out into the reception area and ran nose to nose with Mila. At the sight of me, she splashed her hands with joy.
" I took away such a gorgeous set! You must see it."
" I trust your taste," I assured her.
I didn't want to have to run to look at the plates with the difference of the monograms turned to the left or right. After setting out the cups, I programmed the coffee machine.
" You're so great! You're like a cheburashka! Just as touching and sweet!"
At least it's not an eared one. But just to be on the safe side, I did look at my ears through the reflective panel. It's not uncommon to notice flaws only after they've been pointed out.
" Oh! The boys are here! " Mila suddenly shrieked and took off.
I exhaled a sigh of relief and, having made coffee, went back. I got the order again. Feeling like a waitress in a roadside cafe, I ran back and forth a few more times.
So when Andrew said the sacramental: "Let's begin". I was ready to kiss him with happiness.
I lowered myself into the chair and stretched out my buzzing legs. Now I understood and bowed before the labor of waitresses. How much patience and health to work in such a mode all day long!
Thinking of the waiters, I remembered Mila. Her thirst for activity must be controlled! She had said the boys were here, we should see!
I jumped up and ran to the staff quarters. She was in a madhouse! Six guys in their twenties were trying to change their clothes. Mila snuck between them and interfered with each with advice.
" Yura, tuck in your shirt. Mishenka, little girl, the butterfly must be straight!
"Baby," standing in his shirt and underpants, dropped his pants and began to adjust his bowtie.
" Sweetie, there are some bottles in the cupboard: whiskey, cognac, please take them out. I need to take them to the front desk.
Catching the appreciative looks from all the guys, I realized I was going in the right direction. Sweetie needs to be neutralized!
While she got the bottles out, I took the tray and put the right glasses on it. I'm sure you'll need them soon enough. Men in general like to discuss important matters with a glass in their hands.
" Please help me carry it to the waiting room.”
Sweetie was eager to follow me. For good reason, as it turns out.”
" Your place is so stylish and beautiful! Do you often order waiters?
" For every council and big meetings.”
" Oh, that's great. I'm ready to help with all the preparations.”
I nodded in agreement, vowing never to use their company again!
Dumping the glasses on the table behind the palm tree, I turned to her to cool her fervor a bit. Maybe if she took offense and left, the serving of lunch would go off without incident?
The conference room door opened and a board member stepped out. He walked purposefully toward us, looked at the glasses, chose one for whiskey and turned to Mila. She readily filled it. Having drunk in a gulp, he put the glass down and returned to the conference room. All this in silence!
I looked at him in complete bewilderment and turned to Mila.
" It happens," she shrugged philosophically.
I didn't have time to answer, this time Mr. Brow came into the waiting room. He chose a cognac and made sure that the glass was full, drank it in one gulp and left.
From that moment on, a whole joint pulled out of the conference room. Sweetie became the bartender, and I ran to the restroom to wash glasses. As a result, it was no surprise that when lunch started to be served, everyone was a little tipsy.
" Can I get you anything? " quietly asked Andrew .
" No, thank you, he shook his head."
The gathering became very lively, and they were cheerfully discussing something. The guys coped perfectly well, neutralized Mila, left to guard the bottles, and did not interfere with them.
" Rina, do you remember that we're leaving today? " Andrew suddenly inquired.
" Of course, " frankly speaking, I forgot about it. And I didn't take my suitcase with me, as I had planned.
" Everyone is starting to disperse. Call the cleaning lady and go to pack. Meet me at Domodedovo at 8:30. There's an 8:00 p.m. flight."
" All right."
I can't believe he's really taking me on this trip. For the first time in a long time, I had a wonderful sense of anticipation.
Chapter 5
Domodedovo met … as always! To understand where in this anthill is what? – you have to work here!
A married couple rushed past me, almost knocking me off my feet, rattling my suitcases. They ran in the crowd like flies in butter and scattered in different directions, then met again at the same place. And the man said something bright and emotional. But they ended up going in the direction the woman was running.
I grinned and, clutching my small suitcase tighter, went in search of any of the airport staff.
Inside, the airport was a nominal post-bombing market. They sold everything from food and newspapers, which was reasonable, to various appliances, which was surprising.
And here's the best part, if you ask a vendor anything, he doesn't know anything. Not even where the nearest toilet is! Before asking him, you need to buy something to jog his memory, so to speak. Unfortunately, the prices in Domodedovo were as if only millionaires used the airport's services. But the airport staff could not be seen at a glance. Probably, they shyly dissolved among travelers hoping to join the group flying, say, to Kanye.
I had to get to the VIP lounge. That's where Andrew was waiting for me, holding my ticket, salary and work book.
The phone call came at the moment when I noticed the local guard and was about to catch up with him. I pulled out my phone and answered it without looking:
" I forgot to tell you exactly which hall I'll be waiting for you in."
I blinked, realizing belatedly that I had answered Andrew 's call. I should still look at the phone before answering in a disgruntled tone.
" Isn't he alone? " I was sincerely surprised.
VIP lounges are usually used either by business class passengers or participants of any programs, from the category – "fly a hundred times super economy class and get one VIP lounge dinner".
" Uh, uh… What floor are you on? " He asked me with a hesitation.
I was embarrassed, although, it would seem, how could I know about the number of VIP lounges in airports?
" The first."
" Great. From the main entrance, turn left, go straight, straight, straight, straight, straight until you see the sign. Can you handle it?"
" Of course," I replied, slightly perplexed.
Judging by his tone and the way he explained it, he had already joined the bar. However, it finally became clear to me where to go. The main thing was that I didn't have to turn anywhere, otherwise I would have gotten lost.
I got to the desired place quickly, but before the entrance to the hall there was a small hitch. I was blocked by a guard who asked me if I had a ticket. And the ticket had to be a business class ticket. In fact, I didn't have any.
" My boss has the ticket, I'm a secretary," I said cheerfully.
" Secretary? And the director of the company has the ticket? " The guard asked incredulously.
I sighed, knowing exactly what he was talking about. Usually it's just the opposite, the secretary has the tickets, passes, minty motion sickness pills and bags if the pills don't help. I had to pull out my phone and call Andrew , not to argue with the guard, proving that the tickets were ordered much earlier than I was employed!
" Are you Rina? " asked one of the waitresses and, after waiting for my confused "Yes", continued: " I'll show you to your table."
I exhaled with relief and smiled gratefully at the girl. Trying not to look at the confused guard, I followed her.
Andrew was sitting at a corner table, in front of him there was one glass and an almost finished bottle of whiskey. The man himself was already quite tipsy. I greeted him once more in surprise and sat down carefully.
" I hate flying," the boss confided.
I blinked in surprise, not expecting such a confession from a man. Everyone I'd known before had been desperately brave or angry, but they'd never admitted their weakness.
Andrew filled the glass. I managed to move forward and cover it with my hand, preventing him from drinking. A little more would definitely keep us off the plane. According to the rules, the crew has the right to deny boarding to people who are intoxicated or not only intoxicated, but also behaving inappropriately. And who's to say that a man who's just drinking doesn't throw a tantrum before the gangway? Or do the rules not apply to millionaires?
" No need to continue, we're about to board," I muttered.
Andrew suddenly nodded in agreement and moved the glass away from you. Encouraged, I called the waitress and ordered two coffees. In the remaining forty minutes you should try to put him in order.
For that, I'd have to feed him.
" What's our flight? " I asked.
Andrew slid an envelope to me. As I expected, the envelope contained our tickets, hotel reservations and, most pleasantly, the transfer. So, if he doesn't hold back and gets completely drunk on the plane, I won't have to worry about how to get him to the hotel.
" Anything else? " the waitress asked, setting our coffees down in front of us.
" If I could get something to eat, we would have less than forty minutes to board.
Of course, we should not expect the cook to cook a steak and we will be able to eat it in the remaining time. When time is limited, it's always better to ask the waitresses what is available in the kitchen."
" Maybe there are some preferences? " Still, the girl clarified.
I shook my head negatively and assured her that I didn't. I don't suffer from any food allergies, and I don't count calories.
The girl smiled faintly with only the corner of her lips. Most likely, she does not meet such visitors often, who do not demand to fry a piglet in five minutes, and only fresh and do not torture about the exact number of calories in each piece.
Andrew had been sipping his coffee gloomily all this time. If I had known about his problem in advance, I would have bought a light sleeping pill and intercepted it before he could drink it. Of course, there's a pharmacy around here somewhere. Except sleeping pills don't mix well with alcohol, you could end up like Merlin Monroe!
Nevertheless, I was in the best mood I'd ever been in. This trip is going to be exciting. I'll attend a conference, expand my knowledge. Besides, I might be able to visit a couple of interesting places in St. Petersburg itself.
***
Business class finally made me feel like a queen. Before that, I had only flown in economy class, where you can only fold your legs over the ears of the passenger in front of you. But here you have space, a blanket and champagne. And I did not have to ask or demand anything. It was as if the staff could read minds and guess whom to serve what.
At the airport we were met by a decent car, not a minibus. Mr. Roberts , who slept the whole flight and sobered up, managed to get to it by himself. So we didn't have to drag anyone, which only added points to the already high mood.
So, having checked in without any problems, I took the conference program from the reception, registered Andrew as a participant and myself as a secretary, and with a sense of accomplishment went to my room.
The organizers chose a decent hotel. The room was made in a pleasant blue color, which the owner of the hotel killed two birds with one stone – it was not too bright and looked decent. After taking a shower, I realized that I didn't want to sleep at all, as well as to sit in the room.
Life had suddenly taken an unexpected turn. A month ago I was a simple English tutor. A month later, I was a woman who'd been dumped.
And now… I wanted to open the window and shout all over Peter how happy I was.
I didn't shout out the window, of course. But I changed into a quite decent dark purple dress with a smell, put on stilettos and went down to the bar. After all, the workday was over, and I could afford a martini or a margarita. As I walked downstairs, I couldn't decide what I really wanted. So I decided to have both.
Having settled down at the bar, I made an order and turned to the TV, which was showing some foreign music videos. The blonde singer managed to sing something, while dancing in boots, on a huge platform and no less high heels, and in iron underpants. I wonder if she rubbed anything on herself.
" Don't you like her? " the bartender suddenly inquired.
" Honestly, it's the first time I've seen her," I said, embarrassed.
The bartender was a pretty good-looking guy. He had gray eyes, dark blond hair pulled back in a short, disheveled ponytail over shaved temples. And that's okay, but he even looked younger.
" Really? " He was genuinely surprised. " She's been on every channel lately. I even got it."
" So I guess I'm lucky," I laughed. Sneakingly reading the nametag, I should have done it right away.
" And how lucky," Denis assured me. " You'd better come tomorrow. We'll have a local rock band playing. You'll definitely like them"
" I will," I assured him.
Not listening to a local rock band in St. Petersburg is like not going to Red Square in Moscow and not buying a gingerbread in Tula.
***
