Chapter 9
Usually in spring, people blossom and smell like nature.
But I was withering, frightened by the chaos unfolding in my life.
After the theft, everything was going wrong. I needed a job—no one was waiting for a girl with a tarnished reputation at the cleaning company anymore; they paid me off and waved goodbye. But I couldn’t find one that would allow me to work while studying. Some had incredibly demanding hours, others paid unfairly little, and the best openings were always on the other side of town. I was already in despair when, a few weeks later, I came across an advert for an urgent recruitment of inexperienced entertainers. It was a new, small agency that organised various types of events.
“Well, I wouldn’t put it on the children’s ones for sure,” the owner snapped after a minute of interview, scanning me skeptically from head to toe. “Our costumes weigh more than you do. And you’re so frail, the brats would snatch you up in no time,” she tapped her index finger thoughtfully against her lips, looking me in the eye. “There’s a house party in a couple of days, we’ll see how you do.
” “But I have no experience…” I tried to remind her, discouraged and having no idea what kind of ‘house party’ this was. I thought entertainers worked with children!
“We’ll fill you in on the situation; the main thing here is your desire and ability to learn.”
I nodded happily, instantly filled with enthusiasm. After a long, fruitless search, this offer seemed magical: the schedule, the pay, the opportunity to learn something creative.
Two days later, I was standing outside, freezing in a Harley Quinn costume, tearfully peering into the window of the apartment where my things were, waiting for Kirill. As soon as a familiar car pulled into the yard, I sobbed with joy. Astakhov, of course, didn’t share my feelings. Seeing me with my multicolored pigtails, my painted face, and my painted tights, over which I wore shorts that matched my hair, he was so stunned that he studied me for about ten seconds, as if I were an exhibit.
Then he frowned and opened the door for me, through which I darted instantly, sighing blissfully from the warmth of the car.
“Now explain again, clearly, what happened,” he sat down next to me, fixing me with a demanding gaze.
“My partner got into a fight with one of the guests, and we were kicked out. My backpack was left inside; I can’t leave without it. My documents and keys are in there, Kirill. They wouldn’t open the door, no matter how many times I knocked and rang.
” “Where did my partner go? Why didn’t he help?
What was I supposed to say? The guy I’d known for a day and a half showed no concern for my fate when he headed off in an unknown direction. Obviously, stopping the blood trickling from his nose was far more important to him. I think it was broken.
” “I see,” Kai drawled, squinting. “And what about management?
” “They told me to handle it myself.”
He let out a long, noisy breath. It sounded neither angry nor tired.
I cringed.
“The floor and apartment number,” he said, surprisingly calmly. I quickly stated them and stared at him hopefully. “Wait.”
I was waiting. What choice do I have?
Five minutes later, Kirill returned with my things, silently handed them over, and immediately set off. I checked the contents and almost burst into tears of relief.
“Thank you,” I whispered, overcome with emotion, feeling terribly guilty. Déjà vu. For the umpteenth time.
“Satisfy my curiosity. What were you doing there looking like that?” He gave me a sharp, brief glance, then returned it to the road.
It was a musical evening by some moderately popular Moscow heavy metal band online. About thirty people had gathered for a presentation of songs written by the guys. My partner, dressed as the Joker, and I were tasked with entertaining the crowd during the breaks. The less-than-friendly crowd ended up making fun of our costumes and, mistaking us for waitstaff, kept ordering them to bring drinks.
A brawl was inevitable.
I recalled those moments with horror. My head was already pounding from the heavy sounds shaking the air, but once the fight started, everything got exponentially worse, turning into a bacchanalia.
And this was my first day on the job.
“I’ll drop off the suit tomorrow and cancel my job,” I concluded, pulling off my wig. “I’ll look for something safer.
” “You should have focused on your studies…” My irritation bordered on toxicity.
I froze, holding my Chinese synthetic hair, my gaze fixed on a random spot in front of me.
Astakhov had never spoken of me like this before… so sharply negatively. This was the first overt reproach. A stinging slap.
There it was, yes—a Parthian arrow?
A reminder of… what I represent in his eyes?
I seemed unsurprised, as if I’d long since subconsciously expected this tone from him. Reproof, condemnation.
“Work so you can spend your money on trips to cafes and clubs, treating your girlfriends?” he continued sarcastically. “Seriously? Why do you need that?”
And I couldn’t even imagine how and when Kai had managed to notice and record all of this. We never went anywhere together. And yet… he was damn accusatory and right. Oh yes, compared to him, I’m a sybaritic weakling.
I tore him away from important activities. For sure. At ten o’clock in the evening, in a thin, trembling voice, I forced him to rush after me and save me again. I was causing him trouble, and Kirill rushed to fix it because he couldn’t help it—in the spirit of “we are responsible for those we tamed.” I felt excruciatingly ashamed.
God, I already knew we were from different planets. Someone like him would never have been interested in me; it all happened by chance. And it all went south after the incident with the department. Then our connection completely faded; I hardly went out because Astakhov wasn’t there, and without him, where would I go now? Naturally, we saw each other rarely, no more than once or twice a week. Kirill simply started coming over when he needed to. I acted as a buffer between his pent-up negativity and the daily grind. My only function was sexual satisfaction. Veronica, a convenient and willing girl.
A relationship without status. Without a future.
Why did we continue to communicate?
