Рита Тальвердиева - Нотка бергамота

One success leads to another: last year in Cannes, Inessa had dropped off on his tail, daughter of steel oligarch. She kept that habit of hers as of «dropping out of nowhere» even when been his wife. That\'s the other day: she had to get into a photo collage of the Joan of Arc. In the «CT» he got right into the same magazine issue about the fate. Rebellion of blaze will contrast with her skin color, forks of flame would highlight her green eyes …

«I can clearly feel the plunge of her stylist,» he chuckled, relaxing in the hot tub (meanwhile photographer putting back his props). «In short. Inessa was approved. Reluctantly, thou. On a commercial basis. My paycheck depends on her ambition. And what money! Wow, scary even to think about. Even with a discount to print her photo on full page, which I had to tear out of magazine, it looks cool. But! To get the feel of the role you\'ve got to without any discounts. And Inessa only sprang in the passion. Highly ranked journal attracts not only nouveau riches \' children but politicians as well! One of them was quite arrogantly showing himself in robes of Alexander I or II, can\'t remember. Crown and Royal Scepter was instantly lent by Museum. … that is how people are having fun!»

His palm strikes smooth surface of the water. Drops reached photographer.

«Yo, Sphinx … Not even one flick of an eyelash, hah» noticed Ilya with some frustration. «However, the job is done, and all the feelings, emotions, courage, same way as props, are hidden away at the bottom of soul. This is worth to learn. Inessa\'s latest whim came back to bite her, even thou, her photo session ended a week earlier than my started. Can\'t get out of previous character or what? But that Joan turned out so well, a masterpiece. A genuine expression of pain gives me creeps: was she tortured for real?.. Well got to use Photoshop there. But! Most creepy was not that grimace of pain and fear but that frantic horror in her eyes. The eyes of Inessa, oh, Joan of Arc. Those guys are professionals, I say, they work for real. But my Marat should come out well. Who\'s else if not mine?! No wonder why that author of the most popular project had invited me.»

…Meanwhile, he froze again in front of the mirror. Without a wig he looks younger. Typical southern macho, the sweet dream of Juliets and mature business Ladies. Out of habit, he touched his temple\'s with a drop of bergamot — his favorite perfume. Oh! The bottle is almost empty? No worries. In France he bought a dozen of them.

Like his character from the movie «A Blaze» he had a bottle of sweet aroma in the pocket. One can\'t be esthete only halfway — that rule of beau monde he learned instantly. Thanks to Inessa. Trace of bergamot accompanied him everywhere. What is it, if not his trade card? Hah?! Sometimes one graceful touch builds an image much distinctive than published photo in top rated magazine.

With gloomy wink to photographer, Ilya left the scene dropping empty bottle on his way to the wastebasket.

Photographer, a slipper sleeper man with brushed beard, leaned forward grunting; the bottle made its way into his pocket. And as he didn\'t straighten himself up yet, he suddenly noticed a trace of actor\'s boot and, on the side, a tube of ketchup. «Bloody» mark on a white tile was immediately caught by camera\'s lens flare.

«And it will come in hand» finally stood straight photographer. His eyes flashed with a grim light.

Semigorsk, June 26, 2009

A briefing has come to an end. Everyone went down today but most of all Boris Batkin, correspondent of the local news. Arseny Danilov, Chief of Division, wasn\'t able to say anything in his defense. Awry.

«Don\'t leave yet» he nodded to Boris and Natalya. «In my office in five minutes».

Peter-newbie met them by the door.

«There is a guest» he nodded toward the office.

«Friend. A good old friend» Arseny caught curiosity of his colleagues and waved his hand.

An elegant elderly gentleman was sitting by the coffee table flipping through a binder of local press. A couple of phrases exchanged with Arseny had gave out his Moscow accent.

«Well,» Boris set himself at ease. «Looks like brain washing will not last long».

And he was wrong. They left the office by the dusk. But in a completely different mood. The tonus of Arseny was boosted up by their guest — master of astrology Mikhail Danilovich Marmarov. And not just toning up. The guest breathed a thrill, an enthusiasm and a courage into him! Without all of it any reporter sometimes degenerates into a servant.

«Let\'s start all over» asked Arseny. «Slowly».

«As I said» Boris gave uneasy look. «I was only for one minute at the meeting with Ilya Zvezditsky. Even less than that. Then … then I was suddenly kicked out».

« Star syndrome of Zvezditsky as a title?» added devoted Natalya with apprehension.

«Your title has more words than facts: I came, I saw, and fired out, » chuckled Arseny. «How terrific, I\'m shocked! And not even one phrase?»

«Not a word.»

«And you?!» shot a question Marmarov.

«Yes, I did,» Boris flinched. «I\'ve asked where could I wash my hands.»

«Well!» Arseny throw his head up. «Have you been invited to Zvezditsky\'s dinner? Or was it an interview?!» he was ready to blow.

Boris sighed.

«On the way to his shack,» he began, «I nearly fail over, look, the skin on my palm is badly scratched. All hands were in dirt.»

«And?!»

«And I asked where is the bathroom. Zvezditsky suddenly turned pale. Yes. He looked at me in a very strange way. At the same instance a bodyguard came in. Get out, he said. Apparently, Zvezditsky pressed the call button.»

«Stop!» Marmarov snapped his fingers. «Did you asked where\'s the bathroom? or where can I wash my hands? »

Boris gazed in silly manner:

«What\'s a difference?»

«Answer the question!» Arseny gave a stern look.

«I\'ve asked about the bathroom. Where is a bathroom? I said. That were my exact words. So what?»

«In-te-res-ting.» stretched his word Marmarov.

Natalya smiled. Boris rolled his eyes. Only eyes of the newbie flashed with sparkles.

«What were you saying about Zvezditsky\'s shack ?» Marmarov sat himself by the table. «Or is it new fashioned slang for a palace ?»

Boris smiled:

«Zvezditsky has gone crazy: for a summer he rented a real shack in the village. He occupied it completely. Three families which huddled there, he sent to Anapa. Until September…»

«What kind of shack?» Arseny got a hiccup. «Excuse Me.»

«Creepy one, pre-revolutionary building of a hotel type. When I was… am… asked to leave, I could manage to talk to some people there.»

«With whom?»

«With locals.»

«And?!»

«People laughed at Zvezditsky, real loco your man, they say… Now brace yourselves! Next door to that shack stays a super-duper boarding house, named Sunrise. Cozy. Private. Jacuzzi, pool table, mini pool, in short high standard.» he cocked his thumb up. «The owner of those suites is so freaked out. Look! He offered to Zvezditsky a whole suit free of charge! Obviously, for promotional purposes.»

«Didn\'t pull off?» mumbled Arseny.

«Nope!» Boris smiled victoriously.

«Why didn\'t you tell me that before?!» resented Arseny. «Such a theme! a potential slant for the next article.»

«I had no chance to drop a word on the briefing. Only verdicts went through, sort of screwed up, failure …»

Arseny waved his hand.

«We\'ve got some issues.»

«Just one on a different frets: How dare you to fail the mission? What was the question, that was the answer. I learned it on my first year of the University.»