An evening, usual by Moscow standards for mid-October, completely unremarkable and unremarkable, fell on the capital.

In the light of the shop windows of expensive boutiques and salons, one could easily see a gray veil. And hardly anyone would say for sure what it is: fog, smog or the thinnest cobwebs of drizzling rain. Or perhaps the endless line of cars stuck in a traffic jam on Kutuzovsky Prospekt is to blame for everything. A banal phenomenon for this time of year and for this city, which has not surprised anyone for a long time.

The puddles on the avenue turned into iridescent gasoline stains. The cork hardly moved. Evening inexorably thickened over the capital. In the gray curtain of exhaust fumes, rain was now clearly visible, becoming stronger and stronger.

One of the cars stuck in traffic, an expensive black SUV, slowly rolled down the driver's side window, and a hand stuck out of the window. Small sharp drops of rain immediately fell on the open palm.

The driver shook off the water from his hand and turned to the two passengers in the back seat.

One of them, dressed in black jeans and a black leather jacket, zipped up to the very top, with a bare-shaven nape, looked frankly like a bandit. Black leather gloves studded with metal studs were pulled over huge hands.

- The weather sucks! the driver of the jeep threw shortly at the shaven head. – Just in time, the boss changed the plane for a train! How I felt!

- Exactly! You can't refuse his instinct! Agreeing, he nodded in response.

Both turned their gazes to the third man. The one they called the boss.

At the moment, his eyes were closed, and only his eyelashes trembled from time to time. He seemed to be sound asleep, his head thrown back on the seat, completely indifferent to everything.

***

The key turned twice in the lock, barely audibly. The armored metal door, without making a single sound, opened, letting a dark-haired man in his thirties into a large cozy hallway. He threw a heavy bunch of keys on the shelf and placed a leather purse next to it.

A blonde girl fluttered out of the room, clapping her slippers on her heels. With a joyful squeak, she threw herself on the man’s neck and left traces of bright pink lipstick under his eye, on his chin and in the corner of his lips.

The man, obviously not sharing the enthusiasm, removed from his neck well-groomed female hands, decorated with all kinds of rings and tinkling bracelets.

“Tanyusha, I’m sorry,” he said in a muffled voice. “I had a very hard day. I'm fucking tired.

The woman fluttered her thickly painted eyelashes in disbelief and took a step back from the man.

- Yes, every day is hard for you, - she pouted her lips offendedly. So much so that you haven't called me once in a month.

- Again?! Don't start, please! The man felt anger starting to boil.

Why is it the same every time?! First, ostentatious and annoying joy, and then reproaches and scandal.

Why do all women behave the same way?

- Tired! the blonde stamped her foot, grabbing the man's sleeve. - Do you hear, Sergey, I'm tired of all this ?!

Sergei gritted his teeth. He always considered it humiliating for a man to hit a woman, because by nature she is weaker. But some representatives of the weaker sex should be well warmed up in all soft places. And, in his opinion, Tatyana was one of those women.

- You can always leave!

Until recently, I wanted to say so many things, but for some reason now only one single phrase flew off my tongue.

If only he could tell Tatiana about his problems and all the damn money he accompanied.

The fact that the cover car, which, as they say, to divert eyes along the other road, was flashed with machine gun fire. The fact that one of the most faithful, reliable and trusted people of Sergei is now in intensive care.

Doctors took out five bullets from him and said that two more went right through.

And the fact that Sergey himself is now standing in the hallway of his own apartment, alive and without scratches, is a pure miracle.

But he cannot tell Tatyana about this. Can't explain many things.

This is one of his principles. Never discuss your work with any woman. And can a fashion model ever understand that a business is not just bought-sold-received money?

There was another reason as well. Sergey is not used to trust. He did not trust Tatyana either. Wallowing in bed is one thing, but being truly close people, such as his parents, for example, is another.

Sergei went into a large bright room. He glanced around the living room. It seems that during his absence nothing has changed: it has not disappeared or been added. And this is a good sign!

Most of all, Sergei could not stand it when mistresses began to host in his apartment, “decorating” it with all sorts of trinkets.

The only example of female needlework was a panel with crimson poppies hanging on a pale apricot wall. Once, many years ago, this picture was embroidered for Sergei's birthday by his close friend Katarina.

They met in Germany, where the girl lived. But then this chance meeting in the circle of mutual acquaintances did not make any impression on Sergei. And a year later, fate pushed them together again, already in Moscow at the paratrooper competition.

Katarina and her friend were present here as participants, and Sergei just dragged along with friends in search of a cure for boredom.

The little fragile girl immediately liked the young womanizer because she was very different from everyone Sergey knew. She looked so tender and defenseless - she wanted to be protected, tightly held in her arms, covering her body from any adversity.

She wanted to love.

Sergey liked to communicate with her on completely different topics. But most of all, the young man in Katarina was captivated by the ability to be both a small naive girl and a strong self-confident woman.

He liked to wind the fiery red curls of her hair around his index finger and look into her green loving eyes.

He called her a little forest fairy and a sorceress who forever bewitched her. And sometimes an angel.

Perhaps that is why they were not destined to stay together: she is a magical pure fairy-tale creature that descended from heaven, and he ...

It just so happened that he was destined for another road, and he had to go through it alone. He did nothing to deserve the right to be near Katarina, while she deserved much more than he could give her.

Perhaps Katarina will forever remain the only one he truly loved.

True, there was still Svetlana ...

However, no! It was a completely different kind of love.

A sharp, painful sexual attraction that shouldn't have happened. She used him and even after parting did not want to let go until the end. Called again and again.

And Sergei every time went to the call. But he never allowed himself to be used again.

Svetlana never managed to beg forgiveness for not waiting for Sergei from a business trip.

Perhaps it can be understood. After all, all his departures have always been, are and will be unpredictable. At any time of the day, in any weather and under any circumstances, he took off and left for a period unknown even to him.

And one day Svetlana was simply tired of living in constant expectation. She married someone else.

At the very moment when Sergei was descending the plane’s ladder to his native land, nervously squeezing a small velvet box with rings lying in his trousers pocket, at that very moment Svetlana was putting a wedding ring on the finger of another man.

Sergei found out about this two hours later.

And Katarina...

He had imagined many times what their first night together would be; how he will hold her fragile body in his hands, stroke her hair and kiss her eyes and lips for a long, long time.

Let it not happen now. He was willing to wait and endure as long as it took. In general, he would have done anything, if only everything was going right with Katarina. Different than with other girls.

It turned out exactly as he dreamed...