Алексей Мухин - Stories of one night

Actress’s Diary

– Gukovskiy! Gukovskiy!

– Huh? – Pavel answered drawling, not understanding who might need him at this moment, when the material has not been ready yet, there are loads of documents on the table and the turned-on computer starts to annoy with the same type of icon.

“I should change it”, – a thought flashed through his mind.

– Go to the chief, – a voice materialized in the form of his colleague Sveta.

Pasha nodded. The edition office was already noisy. Everyone was running with papers, showing something to someone. Sveta, after passing him the chief’s request, sat down at her desk and began to call on her mobile phone, tinting lips with one hand.

“How can she manage to combine it all?” – Pasha thought.

The “asshole” (it’s the nickname of Alexander Pletnyov – a skinny blond tall guy who was constantly mocking at Pavel and making fun of him) was telling something to Natasha. Sensing that Pavel was looking at him, he turned around.

– What are you staring at, Celentano? Go, the chief calls you. What are you staring at, slow poke! – He drawled the last word.

Natasha, a busty brunette, laughed as always.

“What a beauty!” – Pavel thought.

He stood up, straightened his fashionable scarf and headed to the chief.

– Hey, Celentano, – the “asshole” called him. – Who are you, Gukovskiy – a Pole or a Jew?

– I am a Jewish Mason! – Pavel retorted.

– Sanya, why did you pick on the guy! – Sveta intervened.

– Oh, our protection has woken up!

– Well, that’s enough! – Sveta shrugged and stared at the monitor.

– He can not stand up for himself! – Alexander did not back off.

– Shall I pour some water over your head? – Pasha asked.

– Just try it!

– Okay, enough! – Pavel said.

He waved his hand and went into the chief editor’s office opposite. The door was closed, and he knocked softly.

– Gukovskiy, come in.

– How did you know it was me? – Pavel said, coming in.

– How, how… Only you come in like this – always guilty and very long.

After hearing the morality of how one should come into an office, Pavel thought, while looking at this, no longer young man: “Why are they all so alike? A bald spot on the head, certainly a white shirt, a tummy and short legs (well, they can’t do without them, do they?), piggy eyes, darting for you in search of some other disadvantages. Maybe, the chief editor is a nationality? Just look at Chinese – they all look alike!”

– In short, Gukovskiy, we need material from you! You are a social lion here.

You even have a nickname, which everybody envies – Celentano! In general, you need to write something about Yarskaya… Sorry, – his phone rang, and the chief editor picked it up.

A secretary entered the room and laid some documents on the table for him to sign. The editor pointed her at a chair, and started signing the documents.

– I said, about Yarskaya!

– Fuck you! – Pavel snapped after a pause.

The chief editor even stood up in surprise.

– How are you talking to me?!

The secretary, a young girl, graduate of the Faculty of Journalism, dyed blonde in a short skirt, who was sitting on a chair, got embarrassed and stared at Pavel, too.

– I will not write anything about Yarskaya!

– Fling mud at her gently, delicately.

– No!

– Pasha, do you want to get salary?.. That’s all, Lida, you may go, – he ordered to the secretary. She obediently left.

– Semyon Semyonovich, this woman will remain in the history of the Russian cinema. We won’t be here, and she will be remembered. She is a star, one of the rare ones. And there will never be the same one on the horizon.

– Pasha! Pasha! Pasha! You are talking about different things! It’s advertising for them! Yarskaya is a bright name. Now everyone is talking about her… Well, take an interview.

– She does not give interviews until the fall.

– I’ll fire you until the fall! – He said a quiet, measured voice. – Do you understand? – He stared at Pavel. – Take that act of yours when you poured water over Sanya’s head… Well, everyone is laughing at you. Everyone knows that you’re in love with Yarskaya as a boy despite your many years. Well, you should somehow… You offended your friend.

– Pletnyov is not my friend!

– Well… and to hell with him… And I…

– I will not write a single bad word about Yarskaya! – Pavel interrupted him.

– Get out of here! You’re fired! Just sitting here, with no sensible material from you! Pathetic scribbler! Everybody writes! Everybody lies! And you’re of the decent ones, it’s even disgusting! The newspaper must be bought, and for this there must be something written in it… Try to enter a shop without money and take some sausage. And in a bid to pay, just say: “Oh, I have no money… You know, I did not write nasty things about Yarskaya and thus was not given salary…” So, when they give you your sausage, then we will not write nasty things! Is everything clear? Well, who I’m telling all this! So, either you quit or interview Yarskaya. If no – you’re fired! And without further talking!

The chief editor was shouting. He even turned red from screaming.

– You know… – Pavel made a pause. It was clear that he was going to say something that… – I wanted to tell you this long ago. You’re such an asshole! – Pavel said the last word with relish, focusing on each letter.

– What? – The chief editor’s eyes began to leave for the desired orbit. – I… am an asshole?! You… Get out of here!!! – He yelled with all his forces.

Pavel went out, banging the door especially loudly. He went into the office.

Sveta looked at him intently. Then she got up and came closer to appease her friend.

– Pasha, what’s up with you?.. I heard shouting even from here.

– I’m so sick and tired of everything! – Pavel took a seat. – Working your ass off here… I worked for him from the very beginning… I’ll leave, Sveta.

– Pasha, what? – She leaned closer to him, touched his hand.

– I… I… – He began to drive his hand from side to side. – I’m a pathetic scribbler, good-for-nothing!

– Well, come on! Do you really pay attention to it?

– He remembered everything: lack of private life, nickname Celentano, because I’m ugly, and not so charming, as he is…

Pavel blew out his cheeks and slowly let the air out. His eyes blinked under the glasses and began to fill with tears.

– I’m leaving.

He rubbed his eyes, already full of tears, and sighed.

Then he took his mobile phone and wallet out of the top drawer and left.

– Lena, where are you going? – Sergey asked, trying to stop her.

– Sergey, leave me alone! – Lena pulled down his arm and headed for the hallway.

– Lena, don’t leave! Lena, don’t leave! – He stood in the middle of the hallway repeating the same thing.

– Sergey, I don’t love you! You know that.

– You are so beautiful, you can not even imagine…

– I’m sick and tired of all of you!!! – She yelled with all her forces and cried. –

I’m still a person, and not just an actress. I’m not playing a role, I want to say something, and you just have to listen.

Sergey came over and hugged her.

– Sergey, I don’t want to live like this anymore. I’m leaving you! – She pushed him.

– For Cheburashka?

She looked at him angrily.

– Misha is from him, huh? Is it true? – Sergey stared into her eyes.

– Misha is from me, – she said quietly and walked out the door calmly.

– Elena Mikhailovna, where are you going? – Her guard Mikhail tried to stop her, watching his tearful boss leaving in a short slinky dress. And it will be evening soon.

A luxurious cloud of hair swinging at each step of hers rested on her shoulders.

Her gait was from the hip. Moreover, from such luxurious hips! She was as graceful as a swan floating on the river. Her facial features and blush were so good that it seemed that she used very expensive cosmetics, but in fact she did it very rarely and mainly for the shooting. The impression was the Lord has once again decided to create Eve, only her name was Elena Yarskaya.

Mikhail was nervously fingering the radio in his left hand and watched her. He felt when it was better to leave his boss alone, but at the same time he was supposed to know where she was.

– Misha, bunny, – she came to him.

– So, it’s Misha or bunny? – He asked, trying to cheer Elena. And he succeeded. A charming smile appeared through the tears.

– What a confidence smile you have!

He stood in front of her admiring the view. Taking a coat from her hands, he said quietly:

– Let me show you the way. Take your coat, it’s cold in the evening.

She nodded. Mikhail was her personal bodyguard and they became friends soon. He became her best friend in the pants, whom she could trust many things that her female friends would not understand because of their talkativeness and chronic natural curiosity. Mikhail often rescued her from various vicissitudes: rich annoying fans, love affairs and other troubles.

– Misha!..

He did not let her finish.

– Are you going to Cheburashka?

– No, I’m going to relax a bit… And I was not drinking! – She knew about his suspicions.

– Be careful, otherwise…

Now it was Elena’s turn not to let him finish.

– I remember it – “a good front crash”, – she voiced his bore argument somehow sadly.

– What? – Mikhail hesitated. – Not scary at all?

– Well, you’re threatening and threatening all the time, – Elena said, opening the door of the car.

She took her coat from the guard’s hands and threw it on the seat.

– Misha, I love you very much. I even named my son after you. You’re my best friend!

– Well, come here, I’ll kiss you, so be it.

Misha spread his hands. She laughed even harder, seeing her husband’s glance in the window, and with the tips of her lips touched lightly Mikhail’s cheeks.

– Bye, Misha.

– Call if you need me.

– Bye, – she said again and sharply took off.

Streets, lights of the big city were flashing by. She turned on the high beam.

During the first minutes she thought of nothing. Everything was left somewhere behind. It always seemed to her that problems stayed exactly where you lived. The whole area inhabited by you acquires your thoughts. You need only to go beyond it, and it becomes much easier for the soul, freedom overwhelms a tired heart.

She sighed, and then…

Pavel went out to breathe fresh spring air mixed with Moscow’s smell of cars, shimmering banners and an endless stream of people running somewhere. He was at piece. He did what he wanted: told the chief that he was an asshole.

“Lord, only two words, and it’s so easy on the soul! So calm! Only it’s not clear what will happen next. Ah, well, tomorrow will be tomorrow”.

He decided to have a walk. While walking, he tried to figure out where to go, and whether to go there at all. He ran across the road and he went to a café: decided to take a hot cappuccino there. It will be evening soon, and he felt cool, even though he was in a jeans suit. The café had Wi-Fi, and he asked for the network.

He went to “Rambler” and read: “…Elena Yarskaya crashed on the Abakumova Avenue. A child ran suddenly into the road, she wrenched away and crashed into a truck. Her…”