Where Amalthea is - fanfiction based on the fandom "Strugatsky Arkady and Boris" Trainees "," Strugatsky Arkady and Boris "Country of crimson clouds" "," Strugatsky Arkady and Boris "Path to Amalthea" ". Sawed birch

For the past few years, Grigory Leps (Lepsveridze) has deservedly been one of the most popular Russian singers. His vocal abilities were never in doubt before.

However, it took him nearly twenty years to reach his current stellar status. His former producer Vitaly Manshin, who now heads the Duncan modern dance school, shared his memories of Leps's difficult path to the heights of the musical Olympus.

- I met Grisha at the end of the 80s, - Vitaly began from afar. - At that time, one of my wife's friends invited us to Sochi every summer. And we rested there in a company with her friends - the future "Ivanushka" Ryzhim, his older sister Yulia and a member of the Sochi KVN team Alik. The redhead - then still a teenager - took us to discos and entertained the break-dance that was becoming fashionable.

And on one of our visits in 1988 or 1989, he said: “We have just a unique singer in our city. His name is Grisha. He mainly sings in closed restaurants - in the Berega and in the Bunker at the Zhemchuzhina Hotel. You should definitely go and listen to him. "

At that moment, the Mister X restaurant was opening in the Winter Theater. And we were invited to its opening. Thanks to Ryzhy and his sister, we ended up at the same table with all the authoritative people of the city of Sochi. There I first heard Grisha Leps. He was then completely different - a kind of antihero, vulgar and cheeky in a tavern. He constantly spat, drank vodka through the song, looked down at the audience. But when he sang a couple of sets, I was so shocked that I could not eat or drink. At that time, there was nothing like this on our stage. Yes, there were voice singers - Gradsky and Serov. But it was just some kind of unique. He performed mainly the tavern repertoire - Shufutinsky, Gulko. He sang "Lube" very well. I could sing both "Gop-Stop" and "Murka". In general, he sang what they asked for.

After him, at the request of one of the city fathers, Oleg Gazmanov, who was present at the event as a guest, took the stage. He tried to sing live. But against the background of Grisha it looked very pale. And Gazmanov had to quickly retreat. Then Grisha sat down at our table, and Red introduced us. Since then, every visit to Sochi we came to Grisha's performances, talked with him, drank together. He had a favorite joke. When asked to sing a song, he would say, "I am a very dear singer." And he asked for 1000 rubles. This is with the then salaries of 100-200 rubles! "Grisha, why is it so expensive?" - they asked him. “Sorry, brother, we need money very much,” he answered and burst into laughter. In fact, for the most part, he did not take money from friends. And he had almost the whole city of Sochi as friends.

In the early 90s, Grisha and I somehow got lost. And in 1991 I unexpectedly met him in the newly opened Moscow disco "LIS'S". He said that he was going to move to Moscow and while staying at a cheap "workers 'and peasants'" hotel - either "Zarya", or "Altai". And I had a free apartment on Preobrazhenka, left over from my grandmother. “Why are you firing money? - I said. - Move to me! " And until 1997, Grisha lived for free in my apartment.

He turned out to be a hospitable and hospitable person. I always invited a lot of friends and treated them to "branded" borscht and pilaf. Grisha cooked it himself. He did not have a wife then. He broke up with his first wife even before arriving in Moscow. Their daughter Inga is now big. Studying in England. In 1992-1993, when our whole family came to Sochi, my 8-year-old son made friends with her. And my wife and I even wanted to take Inga to Thailand for a month, where I had a business at that time. We went to her mother for permission. But my mother did not let her go. Then Grisha lived in a civil marriage with a girl from Ukraine. I've never seen her. I only know that she somehow unexpectedly left for Germany and did not return. Grisha was very worried about this. “I will never build a serious relationship with anyone again,” he vowed. "All women are bastards."

In Moscow, Grisha, of course, met with some girls. But he had no permanent girlfriends. And at first he himself rushed between Moscow and Sochi. He had little work in Moscow. Basically, banquets and birthdays at their own. For the summer, Grisha went to sing in Sochi. And in the winter he returned to Moscow. Moreover, he preferred to travel from Moscow to Sochi and back by taxi. He had an acquaintance driver who drove him in a "six" for $ 500.

At that time, Grisha and I became very close. I considered him my only friend. And I really wanted to help him realize himself as an artist. But I didn't know how to do it. I was far from show business then and did not know anyone in these circles.

"Grisha, who do you think you could attract for your promotion?" - I asked him once. And he called me Zhenya Kobylyansky, who made arrangements for him. In 1994, I was on a business trip to Khanty-Mansiysk in my business. And it so happened that Mikhail Shufutinsky flew there on tour. And Kobylyansky then worked for him as the head of a musical group. After the concert, I met Zhenya and started a conversation with him about Leps. "What does it take for Grisha to become a star?" I asked. “We need 100 thousand dollars and I,” replied Kobylyansky. I found the money. A month later, he resigned from Shufutinsky and at the end of 1994 had already begun work on Leps's album.

At that time Grisha was drinking very well. But we must give him his due, when we started recording the album, although he did not quit, he greatly reduced the dose. Previously, he could easily swallow a bottle of vodka. And then I felt responsibility and began to restrain myself.

The first song we did was "Soothe My Sorrows Natalie." Kobylyansky originally wanted to sell it to Shufutinsky. I literally ripped it out of him. "Shufutinsky gives three rubles for her," Zhenya said. And I paid him 3 thousand dollars. I immediately felt: this is what we need. Grisha, however, spat and cursed from this song. "What is there to sing about ?!" - he said. After much torment, we told him: "Try not to sing, but just tell this song!" And in the end everything worked out. "Natalie" was immediately taken into rotation on the newly opened "Russian Radio". Then we shot a video for this song for 35 thousand dollars and charged a decent amount of TV broadcasts. After that, Grisha was already recognized and invited to give concerts not only to banquets or, as they say now, corporate parties, but also to nightclubs.

He always sang only live. I didn't even take a plus phonogram with me to concerts. Once he performed in Nizhny Novgorod. Local friends did not let him go for a very long time. And his voice really sat down. And I accidentally had two "pluses" with me. And Grisha, right from the stage, began to show me signs to turn them on. This was the only precedent in the entire time of our joint work when he used "plywood". I remember we were filming the Ostankino Hit Parade program and there we met Valery Meladze, who was then at the peak of his fame. “My voice can’t stand it anymore,” he complained to Leps. “I’m already thinking about alternating live performance with phonogram.” Grisha was very surprised then. “I don't have any problems,” he said. "I go to the phonator and he puts me in order." True, then he did not have as many concerts as Meladze. Later, when Grisha began to tour actively, he also had problems with the ligaments, and he even had to undergo surgery abroad. He didn’t feel sorry for himself. Vocalized for two or three hours and everyone was on edge. And once at the birthday party of our friend he set a record - he sang for eight hours in a row with several short breaks.

Unfortunately, we did not manage to raise Grisha to the level of a star then. We listened to Kobylyansky in everything as a more or less experienced person. And he began to pull the blanket over himself. Instead of attracting other authors, he undertook to write the entire album to Leps himself. But, if "Natalie" got into the top ten, then other songs did not catch on so much. They didn't take them on the radio. You could only put them on the air for money.

It got to the point of being ridiculous. When we were making the cover for the album, Zhenya brought a design where all the pictures were put in their places, and there was a hole in the middle. "And what's that?" - Grisha and I asked. “I decided that my wife would look beautiful here,” replied Kobylyansky. “Are you crazy ?! - we were indignant. - What does your wife have to do with it? What does it have to do with the album ?! " To top it off, it turned out that he had simply stolen part of the budget. Although he did not just work for us, he was with us in a share. To promote Grisha, Kobylyansky and I organized a company "EVita", the name of which was formed from the first letters of our names - Eugene and Vitaly. He was the CEO and I was the financial one. According to the agreement, all income was divided among three. And it was already super insolence on his part - to steal from themselves.

Kobyalyansky did this when placing television broadcasts. I didn't test it at first. He said how much money was needed. And I gave them to him. And once I took the money myself. And I discovered that the cost of ethers, which Kobylyansky called me, was greatly overestimated. In the end, we decided to part ways with him. Not long before that I bought him a car on credit - a Peugeot-605. And then he went on some kind of junk - a first generation BMW. When we started summing up the balance, it turned out that he owes 15 thousand dollars. “Give me back the car! I suggested. - And we will disperse without a quarrel. We will not raise this dirt. " At first I asked him calmly. Then he began to speak more sharply. Then he took and told me in RUBOP that I was allegedly extorting money from him. Some operative called me and offered to come to them for a conversation.

Grisha and I went to their office in the Olympic Village. As it turned out, Kobylyansky turned to his old acquaintance with ties to Shufutinsky. An acquaintance could not give his statement an official move, since it had nothing to do with their territory. But he warned me: “We know all your contacts. If something happens to Zhenya, we'll be the first to come to you. " That was the end of it. The only thing - Kobylyansky then said: "I will work everything out." But these 15 thousand are still hanging on it. I tried to make arrangements with him for this money. But he betrayed a deliberately getting on. There was the impression that he instructed his student to do them so that he himself would not waste time on me, and thought that it would work.

After being summoned to RUBOP, Grisha and I tried to continue his promotion. Grishin's friends helped us. One banker from Rostov planted money. But they weren't enough. At this time, I just had serious business troubles. And I disconnected from work with Grisha for a while. And when the opportunity arose to continue, it turned out that Kobylyansky had found some kind of American sponsor, and Leps again began to work with Zhenya, and even with our current agreement signed another agreement with him. "Do not worry! - Grisha told me. - You will receive 20 percent for life. You don't have to work at all. " “I don’t know how,” I replied. - I have to participate in the process. And I don't want to receive money for anything. Let's renew the contract and work together again! " However, he - apparently under pressure from Kobylyansky - refused to renegotiate the agreement. On this basis, we had a conflict. Grisha even moved out of my apartment, although I did not drive him away.

In the end, we agreed that he, as far as possible, will give me what I have invested in him. And the amount at that time was considerable - about 120 thousand dollars. It’s like there’s a million now. Grisha was very nervous, drank a lot. And ended up in the hospital with a pancreas. The situation was very serious. He scrambled out with difficulty. I really wanted to come to his hospital, to support him. But at that moment I turned out to be an unwanted guest for him. And although no one directly accused me of anything, I myself felt that I was partly to blame for his illness. To Grisha's credit, he did not refuse our agreement and over the next seven years he gave me every penny - somewhere in money, somewhere in concerts. And after a while, our communication with him resumed - already just like that, not for work. Grisha did not drink at all then. After the operation, he was not allowed to drink, but to eat practically nothing. And in general, he has changed a lot, has become more balanced. He used to explode on every occasion. “Grisha, we need to give an interview,” I told him. And he answered: "Yes, they all went!". But then he, apparently, realized that there are certain rules of the game, and they must be observed. His personal life also improved. He met his current wife Anya (a former dancer from the Laima Vaikule ballet - author's note) and fell in love so much that his tower was demolished. She didn’t really react to him at first. But he took care of her for almost a year, gave flowers and in the end achieved his goal. Anya married him and bore him two daughters - Eva and Nicole.

A few years later, Grisha himself kicked out Kobyliansky. I remember once he called me and offered to stop by his studio. "Where is Kobylyansky?" I asked. “Yes, I sent him,” Grisha answered. - He's insolent at all. Not a fig did. I raised all the sponsorship money myself through my friends. And he sat on his neck like a leech and received 20 percent. " This did not surprise me in the least. An acquaintance of mine worked for the owner of the Prague restaurant (Telman Ismailov - author's note) and told me how in the late 90s Kobylyansky got a job there as an art director.

His responsibilities included the purchase of equipment - sound, light, etc. It was clear to everyone that he had cut a decent amount on this purchase. But this is not so bad. This is how everyone works in Russia. And the man, on top of everything else, stole the salaries of his employees. They began to be checked. They asked someone: "How much did you get in the last month?" He named some amount. And in the statement there was an amount twice as much. And there were several dozen such employees. Accordingly, he was steadily receiving an impressive bribe. In general, he took off from "Prague" with a bang. It's amazing how Grisha endured him for so long. Then I had the thought: “Maybe I can be useful to Grisha in some way? Maybe we should try to work together again? " I told him about it. But he somehow hushed up this conversation.

Nevertheless, Grisha remembers the good that was done to him and never leaves old friends in trouble. I was convinced of this a couple of years ago. Our ballet "Duncan" was invited to perform in Sochi at some city event. And after the performance, the customer came to us with the bandits and demanded to return the money. “You didn’t dance“ Kalinka-Malinka ”- this is how he motivated it. Plus he got to the bottom of the laser show, to which we had nothing to do. As a result, we were presented with an amount three times more than we received. To sort out the situation, I turned to Grisha for help as a person who knows everyone in Sochi. He asked to hand over the phone to the customer and agreed with him that he would pay for us himself - however, much less than asked. “Why did you follow his lead ?! - I began to reproach Grisha. - This is a complete chaos! “I've already given my word,” he replied. "It's easier for me to pay." Upon returning to Moscow, I tried to return the money to him. But he said, "You don't owe me anything." He has such a wide soul ...

- Time is up, hand over the work.
Grisha Bykov jumped up, hastily put a pale green notebook on the teacher's table, said goodbye and was the first to leave the classroom.
He was not worried about the essay - the last topic turned out to be as easy as shelling pears. "Who do you want to be like in the future?" As if Grisha, the son of the famous interplanetary Bykov, could have some doubts! He decided everything a long time ago. It was necessary to finish school, enter the Higher School of Cosmogation, graduate with honors, get a certificate of an interplanetary pilot - and then hello, outer space! To himself, Grisha feared that by his release Venus would have been fully mastered, and the interplanetary spacecraft would have nothing to do there. Is that transport workers to drive back and forth, but this is really the case! .. Mars, too, was already walked, crossed. But if I could wave somewhere to Neptune ... this is a conversation! Once Grisha tried to explain his thoughts to his father at dinner, but when he reached the studied Venus, he interrupted, asked for bread, and then started a conversation about something else. And Grisha realized that it was better not to go to him with this.
It took too long to go around the school, and Grisha took a shortcut through a hole in the fence. From time to time this hole was covered with a net, but then there was sure to be someone impatient and took off the net. Grisha, a conscientious person, did not approve of damage to property, but he climbed through the hole when he was in a hurry. And now he jumped into burdocks on the slope behind the fence, managing not to catch his pants on the treacherous wire. And that was somehow the case - he ripped almost new trousers to the knee, it's good that at the seam. Mom then said that it was just right for him to start a silicone suit, like his father. And she gave out a needle and thread.
He shared his plans with his mother. She really should have understood that the son of Alexei Bykov is simply ashamed to become someone else! Father drives planetary planets, all his friends are interplanetary, when Uncle Volodya and Uncle Grisha come to visit, one can only hear: Big Syrt, satellites of Jupiter, Uranium Golconda ... After that, it was impossible to become a doctor or teacher!
Mom then said that, of course, it was up to Grisha to decide, but there was no need to rush, but for now it was necessary to concentrate on his studies and go to the eighth grade with good results. As if he should have been spurred on! In the MSC, fools and lazy people are not accepted. And weaklings too, so Grisha diligently tempered and strengthened his muscles. My father always had good health, but heredity is heredity, and it was impossible to let things go by themselves ...
Mom will get used to it, he told himself after that conversation. It is, of course, difficult for her to understand all this. Space flights, dangers, difficulties at every step ... Male occupation. It is not for nothing that women are not taken on dangerous flights. And my mother would probably not have flown into ordinary ones - she was too ... earthly, even though she understood much more than Grisha in calculating the trajectory of the spacecraft ...
Grisha blushed and quickly looked around, as if someone could overhear his thoughts. For some reason, it seemed disgusting to think so of my mother. But what to do if she really was so far from the problems of conquering space!
- Bykov! - called from the football field. - Get up as a defender!
- I can not! - shouted Grisha. And he added, bursting with pride and happiness: - I meet Father!
In fact, it was not necessary to run - there were still two hours before the train. She and her mother usually traveled to the spaceport themselves, by rail, three hours one way, and then by taxi. And they all returned together in a car that they gave to their father. Sometimes, however, Zoya Krutikova gave them a lift, but my father left on this flight without Uncle Misha. Therefore, only the electric train remained, and the railway schedule will not change only because Grigory Alekseevich Bykov is impatient to see his father. But he could not take his time - his feet in sneakers soaked on the grass carried him home. Better to wait there. Mom probably already baked pies, the dough on which she had put in the evening. She always baked pies for a meeting, in the winter - with cabbage or fish, in the summer - sour cream, with some kind of berry, in the fall - with apples. Always two: one home, one immediately took to the spaceport and treated everyone. Grisha loved pies, but a year ago he asked her not to carry anything with him. At home - wherever it went! And in the spaceport ... people are returning from the voyage, the dust of other planets has not yet flown off them, but here are some pies!
“Nothing,” my mother said then. "They will eat it." And they really did eat ...
At the thought of pies, Grisha's stomach rumbled, and he quickened his pace. It would be nice to have a snack before departure. In the spaceport, the food was delicious, but you can still get to him ... And he also promised his mother to hang the washed curtains. I wanted to in the evening, but did not have time. True, Grisha suspected that his father had curtains or not - everything was the same, but his mother did not want to hear anything about it. “If I leave, live in a cave at least,” she said. - In the meantime, there is nothing to sparkle with naked glass. Grisha then laughed: where will she go? The teacher ... Perhaps for some courses or a conference. Or to a sanatorium on a voucher. Something like that was offered to her last year - she refused, then Grisha broke his leg. I jumped unsuccessfully as a "soldier" when I was swimming, so ... Mom said: thanks for not going round the neck. This year she was again offered a ticket, in August. But you can't compare: an interplanetary flight and a rest in a sanatorium!
But if she had gone only in August, they would have had time not only to meet her father, but also to see him off. Of course, his flight schedule could still change, but for now it was about the end of July.
Grisha loved to be in the spaceport in the summer - in the waiting room then there was a thin, tender scent of lime trees or flowers, and everything around was blue, white and green. When they met their father, Grisha gazed at the sky until his eyes hurt - he waited for the planetary spacecraft to appear. Mom usually read a book, but the closer the time approached, the less she looked at the pages, and the more she looked up. In the summer, at least she didn’t carry notebooks with her to check. Sines, cosines, and in a square, bae in a cube ... At school they said that she was a good teacher. Grisha believed, but he did not know - she never taught mathematics with him. “Here's another thing,” laughed my mother, “does it mean that you yourself should write comments in your diary, then read and answer yourself? This is how my split personality will begin. " Grisha, when he was little, was indignant and shouted that they did not write comments to him, in mathematics, for sure, and when he grew up, he began to laugh with her. And he helped her carry notebooks - the paper is still heavy, and if she really wants to work in the spaceport, then Grisha will not interfere.
When the father was seen off, there was no point in taking any notebooks with you - they did not stay in the spaceport then. They came, if there was time left, the three of us drank a cup of coffee. My father always took marshmallow - he said that it was almost the same in Ashgabat. Mom agreed and added that she had already eaten marshmallows for the rest of her life. Therefore, her father ordered cakes for her, and my mother said that he deliberately chooses such that she smeared herself up to her ears. Grisha also drank coffee - he only drank it in the spaceport, and the coffee seemed unusually tasty to him. And he really wanted this meeting not to end, so that the three of them would sit like that, talk about everything in the world, my mother would laugh, and my father would laugh heavily, but his eyes were cheerful. And at the same time, Grisha all the time felt that a little more - and it would end ... now a few more seconds passed, and the separation became closer, and more, and more ... And this feeling became almost unbearable when his father looked at his watch and got up, and then my mother got up and kissed him on the cheek. And Grisha knew that later his father would certainly put his hand on his shoulder and say what he had always said:
- Be healthy and take care of your mother.
“Take care of yourself,” my mother responded each time.
And then the father once again squeezed Grishino's shoulder, kissed his mother and left, and they looked after him. Grisha watched him leave, and then a little more, as if his father could still return. Once he was distracted, looked at his mother and was frightened - her cheeks were white and white, and her lips were tightly compressed. “Mom,” he called then, and she came to her senses, turned pink, began to shake off Grishina's jacket, which he had smeared with lime somewhere, and everything became as usual.
“I won’t think about it,” Grisha decided. The father has not arrived yet, but he was already thinking about parting, there is no worse than doing this, only to be upset in vain! He turned into his yard, greeted his neighbor Baba Varya, patted the common dog of Columbus on the shaggy head and ran up to his floor, jumping over the step.
- Mom, I'm home! - he shouted, throwing off his sneakers. Already in the hallway there was a wonderful smell of pies, Grisha swallowed saliva. - Everything on schedule?
For some time now, he always asked that. Not "all right?", But so. As if if he asked if everything was all right, then he admitted that it could be the other way around. Shifts in the schedule are a normal thing, a usual thing. Although Grisha was already an adult and understood that everything could go completely wrong ...
Best of all, he remembered the case when he was five years old. Then they, too, were preparing to meet their father, and Grisha was already getting ready and waiting for the departure: a hat in one hand, a toy plane in the other. Mom dressed in a white dress, in which she was very beautiful, walked around the room and sang. Suddenly the phone rang. She picked up the phone, talked, and her face became stern, frowning. She sat down on the sofa and ran her hands through her hair. And she didn't even answer right away when Grisha called her.
- Mom! He shouted then. - Mama! I'm thirsty! Mom! Are we going soon? Mama!
“Soon, son, wait,” she said then in a strange strange voice. - Wait a bit.
Grisha believed and began to play with the plane. And then Aunt Zoya Krutikova came, and she, too, had a gloomy and stern face. Mom quickly put on her coat, took Grisha to Baba Varya and left him there, although he cried and asked for her. She returned only the next evening, alone. My father arrived a week and a half later and stayed for a long time. He had a mottled face - some of the spots are dark, and some are almost white. It seemed funny and beautiful to Grisha. Later, when he grew up, he realized what those spots were and why his father was then given a long vacation.
- So everything is on schedule, Mom? He shouted from the bathroom, washing his hands. - Wait, the water is making noise!
He turned on the tap. Mom said from the room:
- It's all right, Grishka.
Grisha frowned. She had an unusually low and weak voice. A terrible thought flashed through: something is wrong with my father! He jumped out of the bathroom, wiping his hands on his pants.
- Are you sure everything is all right?
Mom was sitting at the table in her home "work" overalls. When her father was with her, she usually dressed up in dresses, he probably did not remember this overalls, but Grishka could draw it from memory, down to the freshest stains of paint that appeared when she decided to repaint her parents' bedroom. There was a stepladder by the window, and curtains lay in a sloppy heap. Grisha got angry: here's a stubborn one, he said that he would hang it up, that meant he would hang it himself! He turned to his mother to tell about it, and was frightened. Mom had a gray, haggard face, beads of sweat appeared on her forehead, her lips were blue.
“It's all right, Grishka,” she repeated. - Scheduled…
- Mom, what are you doing? ..
“Nothing,” she tried to smile, but it only got worse. - I ran a little, my heart caught ... It will pass.
Grishka did not know where to run, who to call. Heart ... there should be pills from the heart at home, but which ones? .. He froze in the middle of the room, just twiddling his head, as if hoping to see these same pills on a shelf or table, although they were probably lying somewhere in a drawer ...
- Olya, Grisha! - called from the hallway. - My grandfather will be lucky for the commuter train, will I pick you up?
- Baba Varya! - Grisha shouted, throwing off his daze. - Baba Varya!
- What are you screaming like a bitten one? - in the hallway, shoes flopped softly to the floor.
- Baba Varya!
- Yes, I'm going, I'm going, - Baba Varya entered the room. - You smell something ... Olya! What are you ?! Grisha, run to the ambulance and call! I'll go for the drops!
- No need, I have already accepted it, now it will work ... I'll sit a little.
- Yes, what a "little" there!
Then Grisha did not hear any more, because he called the ambulance, and everything was "busy", it turned out only the third time. He gave the address inconsistently, and fell into a stupor from the question about the symptoms, because he did not know how to describe his mother's gray face and lifeless voice.
The ambulance arrived quickly, in about ten minutes. All this time Grisha toiled stupidly, not daring to sit down. He was ready to run anywhere and do what they said, but there was nowhere to run and nothing to do, just wait for the doctors, and he was very afraid that his mother would not wait for them. Baba Varya brought a glass with something that smelled sharply, must have been the same drops, but her mother flatly refused to drink them.
- There was still not enough medicine to interfere, I am not a laboratory flask.
The former mother was in these words and in an angry tone, and Grisha felt a little better. Maybe her pills really worked. But she still had a sick face, and she sat, somehow strangely leaning over, so Grisha took a breath only when people in white coats entered the apartment. A young, tanned doctor with very blond hair asked questions and examined my mother, then injected her with something, and her cheeks turned a little pink. But before Grisha was overjoyed, it turned out that this was a temporary measure, and hospitalization was indispensable. Mom was carried away on a stretcher, right in her blue overalls with stains of paint, and sent to the ambulance, while Grisha stayed and fussily shoved some things into his bag to take to the hospital. Baba Varya helped, but, of course, she did not know where that was, so it turned out hectic and stupid. At some point, Grisha looked at the bloated bag and thought: why so many things, will mom be in the hospital for so long? Then he remembered what she was like when he entered, and realized: yes, this is for a long time, probably for a long time ...
They were not allowed to see them, Grisha could only leave the bag in the emergency room and talk to the doctor. The doctor was elderly, fat, and very unhurried. When he slowly pronounced each sound, Grisha all the time wanted to nudge him so that he could speak faster. However, he still did not understand the details. I understood the main thing: there is no danger to life, but my mother will have to stay in the hospital for now.
- She has not complained of heart before? The doctor asked.
- No, - Grisha shook his head. - Didn't complain.
- Oh well…
Grisha did not understand what "well, well". Mom never complained about her heart. And in general to health ...
- Will her husband come? The doctor asked. - Did you call him?
“They haven't called yet,” Grisha said hoarsely. - He's flying up to Earth now.
- So what is this, the same Bykov?
Another time Grisha would have liked to talk about his father, but now he didn't want to. Therefore, he simply confirmed: yes, the same one, - specified the office hours at the hospital and said goodbye. It was necessary to call home, and then to the spaceport, to meet my father.
He went into the quiet apartment, closed the door behind him. It smelled of muffin, medicine and, for some reason, washing powder. Grisha got up in the middle of the living room and looked around. He and Baba Varya started rattling off while packing the bag to the hospital - the cupboard doors were open, a pile of clothes was lying on the sofa, which they pulled out, but did not pack. Nobody lifted the curtains from the floor; on the step-ladder there was a glass with baba's drops.
Grisha poured the drops and washed the glass. I stuffed clothes from the couch straight into the closet in a lumpy way to spread them later. He moved the curtains to the sofa. Closed the cabinets. There was nothing else to do. He suddenly realized that he might not have called home. The habit worked - she and her mother always went to the spaceport from home, and my mother always carried something with her: cooking, notebooks, a book - to read in the waiting room, a camera - to take my father with friends and colleagues, although he did not like to be photographed. “Nothing,” my mother said, “it will be a keepsake. And without that there are more photos of you in the newspapers than in our album. " My father grumbled: I would have cut out from there - but obeyed. Grisha had nothing to carry. He looked around again, slammed the door that had opened again, glanced at his watch and realized that he had to hurry - it turned out that he was already late.
He did not have time to get to the train, which came with a spare time - he had to wait for the next one. Grisha went to call the hospital. The hospital said that the patient's condition was stable.
- And when will she be discharged? - asked Grisha and immediately realized that he was a fool.
- It's too early to talk about the discharge, - responded on the other end of the line.
- Oh sure. Thanks, ”he said, and hung up.
He also thought about calling the spaceport, but didn’t, because he hadn’t figured out what to ask or what to report. He was again filled with a feverish desire to do something, which could not find a way out. Before the train arrived, Grisha was exhausted, chewed on his nails and crossed the platform in both directions a myriad of times.
When he got into the car, it was still light, and while the train carried him to the final, it gradually darkened outside the window, the air turned first lilac, then gray, and then dark blue. There were only a few people in the carriage, no one spoke, the silence was broken only by the measured sound of wheels and a mechanical voice announcing stops. Grisha leaned his head against the wall, looked at the fields and forests sweeping by and thought of his mother. For the first time on the way to the spaceport, he thought of his mother, not his father, it was unusual and difficult. Concern for his father has long been a part of his life, habitual, no better and no worse than others. Heroic interplanetary people overcome difficulties ... So they wrote in the newspapers. Grisha knew that his father took a risk every time he went on a flight, was afraid for him and was proud of him. And Mom was also worried and proud, he knew, although they never discussed it. Grisha, of course, could not imagine that his father could really die somewhere on the way to Jupiter, or Venus, or Saturn. But he knew that if this impossible suddenly happened, then he and his mother would experience trouble together. But he didn’t even think about how he and his father would have lived if there had been no mother. It just couldn't be. Never. Never. Rather, the sun would revolve around the earth.
He managed to catch a taxi quickly, but still was late for the arrival of the planetary spacecraft. When Grisha ran into the brightly lit meeting room in the spaceport, there were only three people left. Grisha recognized the tall, broad figure of his father from behind and dashed towards him as fast as he could. But uncle Grisha Dauge, who was standing next to his father, noticed him first.
- Well, here he is! - he declared with relief. - Disconnection of the alarm, Alexey! Where did you lose your mother, hero?
The father turned around. His tanned forehead was gathered in thick folds, which parted a little when Grisha was next to him.
- Hi, Dad. Hello, Uncle Grisha.
"Is everyone ... uh ... okay?" - a displeased voice rang out from the right. Uncle Volodya Yurkovsky in a long coat and a soft hat was approaching from the telephone booth with a wide step. - Did the family reunion take place? I shouldn't have made myself ... uh ... a fool when I called the checkpoints?
- Where is your mother? The father asked quietly.
- She ... - Grisha, still out of breath after a fast run, decided to say something softer. - She's not feeling well. She is in the hospital. Doctors say there is something with the heart, but everything will be fine ... But for now ... - he swallowed. - Not released yet.
The interplanetary planets looked at each other, and Grisha suddenly believed for a short moment that they would figure it out and everything would be fine. They passed the sands of Golconda, dozens of difficult flights, they had never seen anything like that! True, they did not seem to be able to treat heart diseases.
- Go, Alyosha, - said Uncle Volodya. - I… uh… I’ll call Erakhtin. If he didn’t leave for some regular symposium, he’ll see Olga tomorrow.
“Thank you,” my father nodded and took Grisha by the shoulder. - Let's go to. Which hospital?
- Fourth ...
- Leshka, stop! - shouted Uncle Grisha behind him. - A bag! Forgot things! Fuck you, damn it!
He caught up with the Bykovs, carrying with him two bags, one in his hands, the other over his shoulder.
“I'll go with you,” he said. - And then you, Leshka, will twist things on nerves ...
- You're just from the flight, - threw the father.
- So you are from the flight. And this time you didn't even have to drag me on your shoulders. Let's go, let's go, there's nothing.
It was much faster to get there in the company car, the dark silhouettes of trees and streetlights swept past and immediately disappeared behind. Father asked Grisha a few questions about his mother and fell silent. Uncle Grisha tried to start a conversation, but the father either grunted or answered inappropriately, then several times sighed heavily, like an elephant, and Uncle Grisha gave up. Grisha Bykov, too, could not speak - he looked out the window, where in the coming night the forest merged into one long black strip along the road, and thought that they had never returned from the spaceport so sadly.
Of course, they missed all office hours a long time ago, and they would have sent their father home to wait for the morning, but then Uncle Grisha intervened.
“Girl,” he said plaintively to the nurse on duty, who was listening to them, putting aside a volume with a bright cover, “you have no idea what kind of person he is. Planetary pilot, conqueror of Venus ...
“Chatterbox,” my father grumbled.
“He just returned from the flight,” continued Uncle Grisha, brushing aside, “and immediately to his wife and son. The son is standing in front of you, and your wife, it turns out, is lying with you. The man returned from the satellite of Jupiter, and now he cannot see his beloved woman until some office hours come. Is this fair?
- The mode is one for all, - the nurse remarked, but somehow uncertainly. Probably, the words about interplanetary planets had an effect. - Patients are supposed to sleep at night.
- So no one is going to wake them up! - Uncle Grisha cried out in a whisper. - If everything is so strict with you, he may not even enter the room, but only look from behind the door! He will see - and back. I would not have resisted, would have crossed the threshold, but Alexey is a man of iron will, he will withstand.
“Okay,” the nurse gave in and stood up. - Ten minutes, and you alone, Alexey Petrovich. Come on, I'll show you.
Grisha also wanted to go, but his father ordered to wait for him, and had to stay in the corridor.
“Nothing, brother,” said Uncle Grisha. - You will meet tomorrow. You saw her every day after all.
Grisha thought that until the last day he saw her healthy and cheerful, when there was no need to be afraid for her, but he did not say. Asked instead:
- Have you really been on the moon of Jupiter? Father did not speak ...
“Clean,” Uncle Grisha nodded. - I also had to fly to the dearly beloved Amalthea. We have a lot of memories associated with your father and with Volodka. But this time we flew bored, fortunately. Roundtrip.
“What happiness if boring,” thought Grisha. He dreamed of how he would step on the surface of the planet, on which man had never been before. This is the case! And that is boring! Uncle Grisha is probably getting old ...
“Yeah, you’ll fly away here,” a strange, unpleasant voice suddenly said in Grisha’s thoughts. - Look, the father flew away, and returned - his wife has a heart attack and the son is all in snot! So fly away, where no man's foot has stepped ... It's crazy to go crazy. Maybe to hell with all this? "
Grisha bit his lip and thought about it for a while. “I’ll go to interplanetary space anyway,” he decided. "It's easier not to marry."
The noise of footsteps echoed down the corridor, and my father came around the corner. The nurse was not with him.
“Okay, let's go,” he said quietly.
- Well, how is she, Alyosha?
My father shrugged, the leather jacket fluttering. Then he sighed and forced out:
- Seems OK.
- "Seems OK"! You have to pull words out of you, Leshka, with pliers, one piece at a time in half an hour ...
- If you need words, turn to Volodya. Let's go, there's nothing to make noise ... We'll be back tomorrow.
But he looked more cheerful than before, and Grisha thought that everything was not so bad.
Uncle Grisha was taken to the house first, he told both Bykovs not to sour and by all means keep them and Uncle Volodya informed, said goodbye and left. Let's go home. Grisha glanced sideways at his father. He looked sullen - still ... Only now Grisha noticed that he had a fresh abrasion on his forehead, right next to his hair. How did he not notice before? .. And how did he not ask anything at all?
- Dad, how did the flight go?
- Never mind. Flight is like flight. The equipment load was taken away.
- Amalthea?
Father turned away from the window and looked at Grisha.
- Did Grigory manage to tell you this? You cannot leave for ten minutes ...
- So what? - Grisha paused, then asked. - Dad, will you tell me about Amalthea before mom can hear?
- Why “he hasn’t heard yet”?
- Well, Uncle Grisha said that you have all sorts of memories connected with her. Probably mom is better off not knowing about it, huh?
His father looked at him intently, and then suddenly gave a short grin.
- I'll tell you, Grishka. We'll only get to the house.
- There ... only the curtains need to be hung. Otherwise, it’s like in a cave ...
- So, we will hang, - the father drummed his fingers on the seat, then suddenly said: - You don't worry like that. Mom is a fighter, she doesn't give up so easily ... Where's Amalthea.
Grisha was almost indignant, because he knew perfectly well what kind of mother was and never thought that she was a “fighter”. But he didn't argue - something in his father's voice stopped him. And ... the thought that she is a fighter, which means that she will cope with everything, reassured me a little. And the longer he thought about it, the longer he remembered his mother, a cheerful, businesslike, always finding something to do, the more it seemed to him that his father was right, and Grisha himself had not seen something before, did not understand ... He was surprised: if he, who lived with his mother all his life, did not notice this, then how did the father know, who was constantly roaming around the solar system?
- We will go to her tomorrow? - asked Grisha.
- Let's go to. By the way, she asked for a book. She said that you stuffed the dress for the weekend in her bag, but you didn't think of putting at least one book.
- So you had time to talk? - Grisha was surprised. - I thought it was impossible, and you did not enter ...
“I didn’t come in,” my father finally smiled like a normal person. - She quietly wrote me a note and threw it while no one saw.
He stroked the breast pocket of his jacket, and Grisha noticed that something white was sticking out from there, most of all like a paper napkin.
- Yes, - he said with pleasure, - where is Amalthea!

Chapter three

And Grigory and Lyudmila had no time for sleep. Over tea, they began to vigorously discuss how and where to start renovating the house.
- Luda, what if we start the construction of our new big house next to this dilapidated house. After all, the children will grow up, they will need separate rooms, and you and I would also have a room, and for the holidays you just need a large hall. And what about without a kitchen, pantry and cellar for storing food for the winter? And there should be comforts in the house, right?
- Grishenka, you read my mind. But this will take a lot of money.
- Well, first of all, you and I have some savings.
And secondly, we will take a loan if there is not enough money. It's only an hour's drive to the city in our car, I will continue to work at my plant, because I have a good salary there for the head of the transport department, and we will pay off the loan in a year, I think so. Well, and you will not work any more, my dear seamstress-dressmaker! You have enough to do around the house, because you need to look after the kids, especially since our son Vanechka should go to school this year in the first grade.
- I agree to a new house, but selling the city apartment is not worth it, we will give it to our son when he gets married, okay? Let's hope that our savings will be enough, but not enough - then we will take out a loan. Talk to Dmitritch, maybe he will advise what.
- Okay, so let's do it! I will go to Dmitritch at once and investigate everything. And you rest with the kids, I'll be back quickly!
Having kissed his wife, Grigory hastened to the village to see Dmitrich.

The chairman of the village council, having learned that the new resident understands technology, decided that Grisha must be helped with construction, not to let such a specialist out of the village.
- Grigory, we have a large state farm nearby, I already told you, the chairman of which is my friend, Sergei Ivanovich. I'll call him now about you, he is a smart man and will give you good advice. Okay?
- Thank you very much, Dmitrich! I don’t know how to thank.
- What was so special I did. You will help me sometimes, every man here is worth his weight in gold! Let's count!
Smiling, Dmitritch firmly shook Grigory's hand and began to call his friend.
The next morning Grigory appeared at Sergei Ivanovich's. He was a large-built man, about forty years of age, with thick as jet hair, attentive eyes and a low, measured voice. Sergei Ivanovich took Gregory's problem seriously.
- It is very pleasant that such a young family decided to come to us.
I approve! Of course, I will help as much as I can! First, let's do this. I will now invite a technologist, Pyotr Sidorovich, he has just been rebuilt at my place. He will tell and show you everything, especially since he is also a builder with great experience. He will offer you various types and sizes of houses, and then, in connection with your choice, he will select all the building materials necessary for your house.
You just bring them from the city, it will be faster and cheaper than ours. We have not a construction organization, but a state farm - we grow wheat, rye, collect, store, sell. Well, we are also engaged in animal husbandry, so I advise you to buy everything in the city - from planks to nails! And with the workers, I'll help you, don't worry!
Sergei Ivanovich summoned a technologist, introduced him to Grigory, and asked him to help the new villager with the construction of a house. Pyotr Sidorovich brought Grigory to his three-story house, led him through the rooms, through the territory of the land plot around the house, showed him a magazine with views of various houses.
Over a cup of tea, they chose a house in a magazine, made a list of the necessary materials for it, roughly calculated their cost, and, pleased with the technologist's advice, Grigory went to his home. "Great, maybe we can fit into our savings!"
Returning, Grigory showed his wife a view of the future house, they began to happily discuss which side of the plot is better to build a house, where there will be an entrance to it, where the windows will go ...

I hate these traffic jams! As if all Tarasov's motorists today decided to drive along this street! At such moments, I more and more often wonder whether I should not change my favorite, but already seen "nine" for an ordinary scooter. Hmm, I still see myself racing along a busy highway on a two-wheeled freak!

Yes, today is clearly not my day - from early in the morning, troubles rained down, as if from a cornucopia. Not only did I manage to burn my favorite green blouse in the morning, which so favorably emphasized the color of my eyes, forget about the brewed coffee and drop the sandwich with butter, or rather, cheese down. So also this - I got stuck in traffic just a stone's throw from my own home.

I imagined Grisha conjuring at the stove, and I felt sucked in my stomach. And, it was not! I desperately pressed the gas pedal with my foot, at the sound signal with my hand and began to maneuver among the cars moving at a snail's pace. Of course, the men-drivers perceived my actions in their own way, so they tried to push me back. Yeah, so I gave in to you!

Within a couple of minutes, without visible losses, I reached the unfortunate traffic light, the culprit of an unforeseen delay on the way, and a second later, when the green light turned on, I happily pressed the gas. The less fortunate drivers looked after me with envy, but it didn't bother me much ...

Yes, Sunday stroll! I would never have thought that a trip to a hairdresser could be accompanied by such difficulties. Of course, I promised to return home an hour ago, but no one would ever believe that two women would so easily part with each other after a two-week pause. And here I combined business with pleasure: I talked with Svetka, who at the same time made me my hair for an evening trip to the theater with Grisha.

It's a good thing that he has enough sense not to jerk me every minute with phone calls, as other men do, if I stay at least for a moment somewhere. However, this is probably why other men rarely stay in my field of vision for a long time.

As soon as I thought so, the cell phone reminded of its existence. It seems that I jinxed Grisha. Having filled my lungs with more air, I mentally prepared to give my friend a tearful complaint about the impossibility of moving around our city in a personal vehicle. But she was not required. Grisha, of course, called, but he didn't give me time to explain the reasons for my long absence.

- Tan, I do not care at all where you are now, but if you don’t show up in half an hour, I’ll leave, - said the voice in the receiver and disconnected.

If I knew him a little less, I might think that Grisha was offended. In fact, he had long been accustomed to my sudden disappearances and other unforeseen circumstances, so he simply warned about his movements. However, right now I did not intend to disappear from his horizon at all.

Actually, it takes a lot of effort to piss off my very constant admirer.

So I really am really late for dinner, if his patience is almost exhausted.

- Hi, I was a little late, - I blurted out from the doorway, also not giving Grisha time to reproach me for something.

It’s not that I didn’t feel any guilt for myself for the young man left without attention, impatiently awaiting my arrival in my own apartment. It's just that I was convinced from my own experience that the best defense is an attack. To my greatest relief, my friend had no intention of arranging a showdown.

I exhaled and smiled: today a family quarrel was not part of my plans at all, however, like the family itself, too. In my opinion, it is much more pleasant to deal with friends than with various relatives like husband, children and others like them.

“The dumplings are already ready,” Grisha said and kissed me on the cheek as if nothing had happened.

Dumplings? This word has always sounded like music to me. And the most delicious, which I now had to enjoy, could not be made by anyone except Grisha.

- You are walking? - he reminded, already looking out of the kitchen door.

I silently nodded and went to the bathroom with the firm intention to quickly wash my hands, and then honestly obey the best chef of all times and peoples, that the reason for my delay was not a shootout of mafia groups or even crossing a minefield, but an ordinary, purely female passion for various kinds of gossip. Well, in fact, I couldn't just leave Sveta without even knowing the latest news about our mutual acquaintances!

- It's for you. Some kind of girlfriend, - Grisha announced, handing the receiver when I appeared in the kitchen.

This time, he didn't even bother to hide his spoiled mood. However, my good intentions were also blown away by the wind, so I decided not to pay attention to his sour face and only thanked him with a nod of my head.

- Tan, do you remember me? A worried voice rang out in my ear. - You and I went to kindergarten together, and then to a music school.

Hmm, I can hardly remember that period of a happy childhood, which was overshadowed by the presence of fat aunts, who forced them to eat what normal people do not even feed dogs, and to sleep when all normal children are watching TV. And I never went to music school at all!

- Girl, you are confusing something, - I tried to cut off the stream of rather chaotic memories. - Maybe you got the wrong number? - I suggested, hoping for just such an outcome of the telephone misunderstanding.

- No, well, how can that be! This is Tanya Ivanova, isn't it? - my interlocutor was a little confused, rustling with the leaves of the notebook. “My name is Lera, Valeria Fisenko,” she announced without enthusiasm in her voice, apparently completely embarrassed.

Only after these words did I stop being surprised, because I immediately remembered the eccentric person who called me now.

Lerka always possessed an amazing ability to get into all kinds of trouble, and her call once again confirmed this immutable truth. I had no doubts that the frivolous Valeria got into another alteration. I had to confess.

- Yes, everything is in order, Ler, I was joking, - I exhaled wearily in anticipation of an "interesting" story about the delights of life of an old acquaintance.

- Oh, Tan, I was even scared, - Lerka answered with relief, - I thought the truth was not there. Actually, I'm calling you on business, - she caught herself.

- Spit it out, - I commanded, waving my hand at Grisha with his magnificent dinner.

What can I do if higher powers have planned for me for today only a transfer of the type "between us girls", leaving the boys behind the scenes. However, my friend at this time demonstrated his simply angelic patience and humbly set the table in the kitchen.

- No, Tanya, I can't on the phone, - to my great amazement, Lerka refused. - Maybe you will come to me today? If it's convenient for you ... - she added.

No matter what I think about my eccentric friend, I have a special nose for interesting things. Therefore, promising Valeria to definitely stop by her in the evening, I hung up and looked around in search of a small suede bag with three dodecahedral bones. It was they, my magic assistants, who always helped me out in difficult times, predicting and suggesting the possible course of events.

The bones were especially necessary "in the days of doubts and painful thoughts." Of course, unlike the great Russian classic, my head was occupied with rather prosaic thoughts, moreover, about quite everyday matters, but sometimes they turned out to be so confusing that I needed the intervention of forces more knowledgeable in the questions of the universe.

I took out three bones and quickly threw them on the coffee table. Having thrown a fleeting glance at the dropped combination, I froze: "34 + 12 + 18". Blimey!

My faithful assistants advised not to dwell on the routine of life. However, I do just that, because Grisha has been trying to feed me for more than an hour! In addition, higher powers recommended to catch a certain moment that will bring good luck. Well, I'll try to do it in the near future. And I have already decided on my life priorities - contrary to common sense, I agreed to come to Lerka in the evening, although I had already promised my friend to go to the theater with him.

Smiling pretty, I removed the bones until next time and entered the kitchen. Now I had to do the most difficult thing - to make Grisha believe in the sincerity of my friendship with him, not to offend him completely, because I treasured our relationship with him very much.

- New business? - He asked rather casually, as if it was a question of another series. - So, you will be busy again from morning till night?

I didn’t even have time to really explain anything when a plate of dumplings appeared in front of me, from which such a delicious aroma rose that it took my breath away.

- Grisha, you are a smart boy, think of something yourself to justify me, - I made a plaintive face, - just don't deprive me of lunch.

He seems to have decided to play along - he sat down on a stool, took the pose of Rodin's The Thinker, then smiled slyly and said slowly:

- I promise not to insist on going to the theater today, if you allow me to stay with you for a week.

So-a-ak, it was outright blackmail! I just got used to living alone, and I do not accept any violence against a person in the sense of interference in my life. Grisha has already complained to me about the nasty neighbors who have started repairs and now even at night they are drilling the walls and laying new floors. We talked about this with him, and he was well aware of the opinion about “living with me”.

Of course, I personally have nothing against him, but still, I really appreciate the opportunity, at any convenient or inconvenient, which is especially important, in the case of a man who burst into my life, to show the door. Now it turns out that for a whole week we will be forced to conduct joint coexistence. Almost like a husband and wife. Thinking so, I grinned: “Okay, let Grisha try to endure my whims day and night. And I will calmly wait until he gets bored and he runs back to his bachelor den. "

In general, having swallowed my friend's blackmail trick, I silently happily nodded my head. In this situation, there was nothing else to do: any desire to go to the theater fell away, and so - at least some compensation to the boy for his self-sacrifice. By the way, by allowing Grisha to stay with me temporarily, I will not be left behind: timely and completely edible food this week will simply be guaranteed to me, there is no doubt about it. Well, I have already begun to look for all sorts of advantages of my "unfree" position.

* * *

- Come in, come in, - Lerka immediately fussed when she saw me on the threshold of her “modest” three-room apartment, in which she lived with her parents.

As far as I remembered from my school days, the elder Fisenko always looked after and cherished their only daughter too much. Maybe that's why she always managed to get into various troubles and, even approaching the thirty-year mark, remained as frivolous and unpredictable as in childhood. And, probably, it was no coincidence that dad and mom preferred to keep their child constantly in front of our eyes, not trusting Valeria even with the choice of wallpaper for the renovation of her room. I found out this fact last winter, while shopping in one of Tarasov's shops and bumping into face to face with Lerkina's mother, who came there just for the wallpaper for the "nursery", that is, for her daughter's room.

Yes, it’s not poor - I quickly assessed the decor with a professional glance: a full-wall wardrobe in the hallway, high-quality German parquet on the floor, expensive furniture in the living room. Everywhere and in everything the hand of a good designer is visible, whose services are far from affordable for everyone.

A screeching bark was heard from behind the closed door of one of the rooms.

“This is Senka,” Lerka waved her hand. - If it breaks out, it will ruin something. He does not respect strangers with me. But if someone likes him, he loves with all his soul. I'll show it to you later.

I glanced cautiously at the door, thinking that acquaintance with the master's dog could be postponed until better times.

- Do not be shy, - Valeria encouraged me, accompanying me to her room and on the way conducting an excursion around the expanses of her native apartment. “Dad brought the headset from Sweden last year, only two hundred and twenty dollars, he bought it for half the price,” she said. - And it's time to hand over the ottoman, it has been gathering dust for a year and a half. Mom was sorry to pay an extra hundred bucks for a normal sofa, so now we are admiring this bogeyman.

By my standards, the ottoman was actually decent, even the zebra print didn’t spoil it very much, although the representative of “Grönpeace” would hardly have pleased. By the way, if I didn’t know Valeria since childhood, I might get the impression that she is boasting. But in fact, it was not even in her mind to demonstrate the wealth of her family, since she, in principle, did not understand how it was possible to live differently.

However, Fisenko's altruistic inclinations were also not alien, so I was not at all surprised when Lerka said that the playground in the yard was repaired at her expense.

Lerka's source of income is known to me: her father's investments will last for the rest of her life. So work as a fashion model could simply have fun, which Valeria Fisenko, in fact, did with great pleasure.

By the way, I was not going to be shy in her house at all and immediately decided to provide myself with maximum comfort. If we had to sacrifice the theater, then at least here we should try to spend time with benefit for ourselves.

- Do you have coffee? I asked, sitting comfortably on the couch and taking out my cigarettes.

- Of course! - Lerka blossomed. “But I don’t know how to cook it,” she added with a sweet smile.

Well, this grief is easily fixable, and I did not even focus my precious attention on such a trifle, but immediately went into the kitchen. Having brewed myself a strong aromatic drink and smoked a cigarette, I prepared to listen to any nonsense.

- What happened to you this time? - I asked without any transition, barely managing to insert my question into the verbal waterfall of a friend who was enthusiastically talking about some trifles.

The memory of imported boots and a sheepskin coat, which "by themselves" disappeared from the school locker room, was still fresh in my memory. Lerka then assured everyone that she saw the aliens with her own eyes, who "took away" these things. This time I expected to hear a similar story.

- Tanya, you know, I was robbed, - Valeria admitted tearfully, and I almost smiled, amazed at my own quick wit.

- What is it this time? - Barely restraining myself, I seriously asked.

“Two grand in money and a little more rubles,” she replied, suddenly becoming serious.

Such a change surprised me: Lerka never worried about money, and two thousand dollars hardly did much damage to her budget. And she would never have remembered about rubles at all. Yes, something serious had to happen so that a girl who had never experienced financial difficulties began to worry like that.

- What else did they take?

- More ... - Lerka hesitated, - my mother's ring disappeared ... and mine ... two rings.

“Two, no, three leather jackets and three tape recorders,” I mentally continued this list with a phrase from a famous comedy. But I didn't say the quote out loud in front of a potential client, but only clarified it just in case:

- You yourself could not lose them anywhere?

“Of course not,” Lerka perked up, almost offended. “You know what a mess I am, so I would never wear my mother’s ring ... I haven’t worn my own ring lately,” she added, almost with tears. - Kostik gave it to me, and we just had a falling out.

Everything is clear: if Valeria herself realizes that she did not lose, then things are bad.

- Did you tell the police? - I asked for a start.

- No, what are you! - Lerka waved her hands. - First, they will never find anything. And secondly, in a week my parents will return from vacation - they are now vacationing in France on a voucher - and they will remove three skins from me if they find it missing. Tan, - she looked at me pitifully, - I have only one hope for you.

I quickly figured out where to approach this case.

- Do you know that I take two hundred bucks a day? I said, hoping not to shock her too much with such frankness. - Maybe it's easier for you to contact the police after all? She herself said that they took a little money ...

“I have no problems with money,” Fisenko dismissed. - I would not have paid attention to them if the rings had not disappeared. This one, with a blue pebble, - Lerka pulled out a photograph from somewhere and began to point her finger at a microscopic point on her hand, - I just put it on a couple of times. Everyone was so jealous of me ... And then I looked into my mother’s box, he’s not there and mother’s ring too.

Feeling the approach of another fit of hysterics, I started drinking coffee, giving my friend the opportunity to speak out. In fact, I do not like snot-drooling and do not feel aesthetic pleasure at the sight of them. But in practice, I have long found out that a lot of important information can be gleaned from tearful monologues. Therefore, even now she did not interfere with Lerkina's hysterics. I also never pulled the role of a comforter; I would hardly have made Mother Teresa out of me. The only thing that was enough for me was nodding my head and an image of sincere sympathy on my face.

When Lerka's tears and complaints about the villainess-fate subsided, I ventured to insert a question to direct the conversation in the right direction:

- Leer, and by what signs did you even notice that someone else was in the apartment? Has the lock been broken? Or are there any traces on the carpet?

“No, there weren't any traces,” she thought, “but somehow everything was out of place… You know, I wouldn't have noticed anything again if the drawers hadn't been pushed in so much. And the box was not standing like that. As soon as I saw this, I immediately looked into the closet ...

Lord, what does he have to do with it? Before I had time to be surprised at the vaunted female logic, Lerka made it clear:

- Well, you know, in one film I saw that the thief did not have time to leave the apartment and hid in the closet. Of course, there was no one there, but things were shifted to one side, as if really someone was sitting there ... - Valeria was embarrassed by her own ingenuity.

Yes, this is no longer just a violent fantasy played out, but an explicit claim for the laurels of Sherlock Holmes. Okay, we'll have to endure, because Lerke's observation skills really cannot be denied. Now all that remains is to check the safety of the castle.

I immediately went to inspect the door, but, to my great regret, I did not find anything suspicious. And I really didn’t like this, because it said only one thing - the cunning expensive lock was not opened at all with a master key that scratches any surface.

By the way, I have such a tool in my arsenal, because it can be very useful in investigations. In general, I can say for sure - almost always, without experts, I determine when the locks were rummaged with master keys. It is only my collection of master keys that is flawless. So the only conclusion that I could draw after examining the door of Lerkina's apartment was this: the thief had a key. And if so, then another conclusion suggested itself: the person who committed the theft had to get this key somewhere.

Lerka froze as if rooted to the spot, and then picked up a squealing monster, which, upon closer examination, turned out to be a Pekingese. Apparently, freed from his forced confinement, the dog decided to surpass himself and choked, in my opinion, with delight. And then, of course, Valeria simply could not help but introduce me to her favorite.

To be honest, I do not feel anxious about screaming dogs, but for the sake of appearance I had to portray a sweet smile and even break off a piece of cheese to my new acquaintance. It seems that the dog did not often receive such favors from unfamiliar people, so she immediately fell in love with me and stopped barking.

The astonished Lerka was simply speechless with joy:

- Imagine, Senechka is so nervous here that I try not to show him to the guests. He especially loves dad, but he simply hates other men. When Kostya came to me, Senechka had to lock him up, because the dog can't stand the smell of his cologne. He also hates the smell of acetone, so I wipe off the nail polish when he sleeps in the other room. Senka can only be bought for chocolate waffles, ”Lerka added with satisfaction.

I looked at the now peacefully snoring Pekingese and decided for myself finally and irrevocably: such a malicious creature that does not tolerate the presence of men, I would never start in the house. But it was time to end the lyrical digressions, so I returned to the main topic of the conversation.

- Lehr, remember who had the keys to your apartment? Well, maybe the neighbors, who sometimes fed the dog, watered the flowers. Or at the housekeeper ... - I returned to the kitchen and bombarded my friend with questions.

She was confused by surprise:

- We don't have any housekeeper ... And there are almost no flowers ... Only my mother has cacti ...

I automatically looked around the room: indeed, the jungle decorating the wall was artificial. By the way, the presence of real fresh flowers in an apartment is a kind of indicator for me. Since the time of reading the classics, the image of sensitive young ladies surrounded by mimosa roses has been clearly deposited in my mind. It is clear that busy, serious and a little thorny people prefer to breed drought-resistant cacti.