Stories of one night. Алексей Аркадьевич Мухин

s’s Diary

      – Gukovskiy! Gukovskiy!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      Natasha, a busty brunette, laughed as always.

      “What a beauty!” – Pavel thought.

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

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

      – I am a Jewish Mason! – Pavel retorted.

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

      – Oh, our protection has woken up!

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

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

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

      – Just try it!

      – Okay, enough! – Pavel said.

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

      – Gukovskiy, come in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

      – I said, about Yarskaya!

      – Fuck you! – Pavel snapped after a pause.

      The chief editor even stood up in surprise.

      – How are you talking to me?!

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

      – I will not write anything about Yarskaya!

      – Fling mud at her gently, delicately.

      – No!

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

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

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

      – She does not give interviews until the fall.

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

      – Pletnyov is not my friend!

      – Well… and to hell with him… And I…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      – I’m leaving.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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