And I'm going. Like a panther before a jump. My head is already spinning, and inside it is like champagne bubbles are bursting.

Well, I don't have to throw myself at him. He must have ordered. Well, fine. In the meantime, you can take a closer look. Explore. You never know what to expect from a man. Link is right about one thing: I have zero experience. I only know how to dodge lustful hands. But here the goal is different. Attract attention and interest.

This is where I start to fall. Not in thoughts and fantasies, but in reality. While I was getting closer to the “object”, I made an unforgivable mistake in this restaurant: I leaned my elbow on a terrible installation - the pride of Gena Padlych, which he ordered for fabulous money from some cool designer.

And this crap from my lamb weight collapsed. Or maybe the time has come for her to die a heroic death. Be that as it may, it fell apart into the details of which it consisted. There's a ton of dust there, by the way. Probably not a single infection wanted to come close to this monster in order to wipe it.

But I approached the object as close as possible: he was just sitting nearby. All covered in dust, with a peeled elbow and knee. Stretched legs: I somehow managed not to fall all the same. She resisted like a partisan under interrogation. Gorgeous. Another machine-gun belt through my chest - and captivate imposing men in expensive suits.

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[1] The name of the horse of Alexander the Great.

2. Edgar

Your mother! I exhale at the rumble in the middle of the hall and turn my head. I knew that I should not go into this hole. The situation is akhtung. Wine is crap. And my assistant, Seva, who dragged me to this diner, is a rare scoundrel, but I keep him for this.

“Ha ha,” he neighs, his mouth open. - Piss off, Edgar, did the girl drop this garbage? What was it anyway? - I briefly assess the ruins of some exposition, which I did not notice at the entrance, and again look at Vsevolod.

“Don Quixote,” he looks with curiosity at what is happening there. - The restaurant is called Don Quixote, so Gena ordered this installation from old car parts and sheet metal. Fashion theme, by the way. Do you want such an art object in your office?

“And I didn’t want to before, and now even more so,” I squint not so much at the remains of the unfortunate Rocinante, but at the girl in the signature apron, coughing in clouds of settling dust and rubbing her bruised hand. The waitresses here are obviously stupid, but at least they are nice. That, perhaps, is the whole plus. And we haven't even received our order yet.

“Come on, Ed,” Seva collapses in a chair. - I know that the establishment is so-so, but Gena is my old friend, and I promised to come for a long time. It's not all that bad.

“You will listen, you have all your friends and comrades,” I take a sip of sour wine and, grimacing in displeasure, set it aside.

“So you keep me for that, that I am friends with everyone,” he smiles. – That I know all the entrances and exits.

And then what do we have with Varshavin, a man from society? You kind of invited me to talk, and you yourself are staring at the waitresses.

“Fuck-I-I,” Seva draws, looking past me. - Campaign, Gena will now strangle her with his own hands.

“Seva, don’t waste my time.” I don’t even want to see what’s going on there. - Come to our sheep. They'll figure it out on their own.

“Well, Edgar,” he leans toward the table. Supported by elbows. Sighs. Everything is bad with Varshavin. I could not arrange a personal meeting. He doesn't want to hear about your offer. But soon there will be an event where he will definitely be. That's where you can try to get it.

But his face is not very reassuring.

And what's wrong with this event?

Charity Ball. Satisfied with his wife, - again he looks askance at the center of the hall. And these disassemblies at the ruined composition are definitely starting to annoy me.

So get me an invitation to him.

“So I got it,” he reaches into his pocket and holds out an envelope.

And what's the problem? I take out a pink rectangle embossed with silver. Wow, and color. What is this, a children's party?

“No, Edgar,” he shakes his head emphatically. “But to get there, you need a wife.

“Oh my God,” I look at the disgusting cardboard. - So find me a suitable woman, business something.

“You don’t understand,” and again that look of a sick dog. - What horrible woman will not work. Need a wife. Official, everything is as it should be.

“I don’t understand,” I try to intercept his attention, but it becomes more and more difficult for me to compete with the skirmish that is gaining momentum. - Will they check passports at the entrance there? What kind of nonsense, in general?

Well, this is another whim for the director of the holding, - Seva shrugs. - But I have a strong feeling that he does not want to do business with you because you are divorced, free, without children.

Does he have any problem with that? I throw an invitation on the table. Or is he just jealous?

“You should probably know better. This is your long-term "friendly" relationship, - he shows quote marks with his fingers, - And I'm just a person from society. - He will fly exclusively to this ball, then only if you intercept him somewhere in New York, or on a yacht in the Mediterranean, see for yourself.