Читать книгу The bride of the silver dragon - Dmitry Nazarov - Страница 10

I was just finishing signing another letter to City Hall when my phone buzzed with an incoming message. In these days of useful messengers and cheap cell phones, only conservatives send classic text messages, and I have a couple of them in my phone book. I’m even surprised when I see an unfamiliar phone number in the sender field.

And then, as I reread the message twice, trying to figure out what kind of weed he’s talking about, it suddenly dawns on me that the damned Mr. Twigson has managed to get to me even here.

Does he seriously expect me to answer this nonsense?

He would ask me how we are living under the oppression of his lawyers, who keep pushing more and more social services on the orphanage, and they, in turn, dig up every little detail. It is true what they say: no one wants to do anything, but everyone wants to lecture.

When the phone rings again after a minute, I mentally berate myself for not immediately thinking to block the insolent moonchild. There are men who call even such forgetfulness an invitation to flirtation, and something tells me that Twigson is one of those. He’s a Silver Dragon, a rich man, a handsome man, a bossy ass! That’s not the kind of man some mortal woman would say no to!

I open the message, intending to send it in the most direct way possible and send it to the block, but…

Oh, my God.

It takes a couple of seconds to look at the attachments – three phone-translated printed pictures, each of which shows the two of us in the same kitchen where I’m sitting now. And a note that sends a nasty chill down my spine.

I dial his number without even thinking if he can talk.

He can, damn him!

– Margarita, really? – His voice on the other end of the line sounded emphatically soft, though it had a scratchy tone to it.

If I cared deeply about his moral and physical well-being, I would even assume that he is not in the best shape there. But I don’t care if he’s twisted three times.

– Is this another attempt to make me bend to your rules? – I ask my forehead and squeeze the phone so hard that my knuckles ache.

– I know it might be hard for you to believe, but I had nothing to do with it this time.

My mouth goes, “Ha-ha!”

– Are you torturing some kind of pet in there? – Twigson teases.

I clamp my hand over my mouth to keep from smiling. He won’t have that kind of joy, even if there’s no way the moonshiner could have seen it.

– Where did these pictures come from, Twigson, and what does your threat mean?

– I haven’t figured out the original source yet, but my fiancée put them on my desk half an hour ago. Almost ex-fiancée.

His bride. I well remember the scandal in the press and the weeping, God forbid, strange moonshine, which was posted on almost every news page in Sotsialka. With all my dislike for Koryaga and my sincere wishes that he itch in all places, even he did not deserve to be the groom of this… how to put it mildly…

Okay, who am I to judge?

And that’s not what we’re talking about now.

– Then explain to me, Mr. Future Senator, why my reputation should suffer because of your problems with women! – I get up, walk to the door and closed it tightly from the inside so that none of the kids can not overhear our conversation. I’m so wound up, I might miss a few strong words. – I don’t want my name mentioned next to yours in the context of such… vile things!

– Well, vile things,” he said. – Shall we agree on a little nastiness?

I stop, suddenly realizing that while this situation is literally tearing me up inside, the damn moonshiner seems to be happy about what’s happened.

And this suspicion makes me remember with renewed vigor who I’m dealing with – the moonshiner. One of those heartless types who think they can do anything just because they once emerged from the shadow of the moon a few hundred years ago and called themselves the chosen ones. And because to them we owe all the advanced technology of our time. And in return, they took all the power for themselves, imposed their own orders, proclaimed themselves the chosen caste, and designated us common people as second-rate.

If Twigson is so amused by the whole situation, then there is only one explanation.

– What is your advantage? – I ask in a forehead, and once again I check whether the door is firmly locked. I’m already so angry inside that I’m about to burst like Vesuvius. It’s a shame the Moonshiners haven’t yet invented technology that can transmit not only words over the phone, but also kicks in the ass.

– Why do you suspect everyone of everything, Margot? – It’s like he’s sighing and moaning at the same time.

Universe, if you can really hear us all, I hope you’re hurting him badly this minute!

– Margarita, Mr. Twigson. – I repeat and defiantly interrupt his attempt to insert a comment. It is already clear that we are worthy opponents for each other in a verbal skirmish, and I do not even want to check how long we can bicker like this. And I won’t let him drag me into an argument, because that seems to be what the Lunnick is trying to do. – I don’t suspect everyone, Twigson, only the hard-hearted moonshiners who break into my house at night, reward me with an attack of heartburn, and, on top of that, happily inform me that it’s their fault my name will be bowed in all the garbage media.

Pause.

It drags on so long that I’m about to end the conversation, but Twigson speaks up.

– Excuse me, Margarita, but when you get angry and ironic at the same time, your voice becomes somehow particularly delicious. Could you repeat that sentence again – I’m afraid I just listened to you shamelessly.

– Are you mad? – I ask in all seriousness.

Despite all the bounties Moon people have received from the Moon, the Moon has also “rewarded” them with the gift of instant insanity. There’s a total lunar eclipse coming-something might have gone wrong in the mind of an important senator-to-be.

– Only when I hear your voice, – Koryaga confesses shamelessly. Then, as if he suddenly remembers the reason of the call, he clears his throat and continues in an almost businesslike tone: – Contrary to your unflattering opinion of me, I must convey my position – I also absolutely do not need publicity in the press.

Why don’t I believe him anyway?

I bite the tip of my thumb to keep from making a caustic remark. I have to wait and, eventually, politely let him finish. Lunnick or not, this is about my upbringing.

– And in that we are in solidarity with you, – he continues. – Or am I imagining it?

– No, it wasn’t.

– So, since we’re unwittingly in the same leaky boat…

– … It’s your fault, – I interject, and then I bite my tongue, because Twigson is laughing loudly and gaily. It was as if he knew I couldn’t resist stinging him.

– You are unbelievably charming, Margot! – He clicks his tongue so loudly it makes my ear prick up. – But this time your humble servant bows his head and admits his full and unconditional guilt.

A penitent moonshiner? No, he’s definitely up to something.

I even forget that I’m supposed to snap back and focus entirely on his words, lest I accidentally miss something important. Or “hear” the cleverly hidden subtext.

– I will do my best to make sure this information lies at the bottom of the deepest well, but I thought it my duty to warn you that even I am not all-powerful.

I don’t even know which I’m willing to believe more, the lack of his benefit or the fact that he’s not going to use it in any way.

A damned moonshiner who is trying to evict me and my children, and yet visits my house at midnight, and with a broom. How else can it be read except…

I bite my finger again, but this time to hold back an angry cry.

God, anyone who knows me even a little bit is aware of my “special” dislike of moonshiners. There was a time when my name became a nickname, and there was even a joking tag online called “margism. It was used for all the news stories in which moonbats were exposed. This led to some Moonies simply avoiding anything with my name on it, and even giving in, just to avoid an open confrontation. Every day I have at least a dozen letters in my mailbox asking me to influence the moonshiners who are building malls and blocking parks, waving away high-rises that block the views of ordinary mortals, scrapping projects to improve poorer neighborhoods.

If it now “turns out” that at the same time as I am so broadly anti-political against the Moonies, I am secretly dating one of them, my reputation will be destroyed at the root and my name disgraced for the rest of my life.

The mere thought of the magnitude of the possible catastrophe chills me and makes my stomach cramp like an acute attack of gastritis.

– Margot? – I heard Koryaga’s anxious voice, and I realized late that while I was watching in fast-forward the impending disaster of my life, he continued the dialogue. – Margarita, for the sake of the moon, speak up, or, I swear, I’ll give up everything and come to save you!

– No! – I responded too loudly.

– Well done, Margo! Now that moonshiner will be sure he’s found your weak spot!

– Are you sure? – he interjects incredulously. – You sound agitated. Perhaps you would at least agree to see my personal physician?

– And forget about any connection between you and me, – I rebuffed his attempt to buy me. – Keep in mind, Mr. Twigson-if the jealousy of your unstable fiancée brings up “our affair,” I will not rest until I turn your life into the worst nightmare you could ever dream of.

Now it’s his turn to pause again, but I use the pause to unscrew the faucet and splash ice water in my face. It makes me feel a little better.

– Honestly, – his voice sounds a little puzzled after a pause, “I didn’t realize the depth of your animosity toward my people. I daresay it couldn’t have taken on such proportions just because of my person, though I’d be flattered.

Lord, he has a… quite a way with words.

I delay the more enthusiastic train of thought in time, because I don’t want to allow it even inside my head. Nothing, no possible positive qualities of this moonshiner can undo two things-the fact that he and I are irreconcilable enemies, and the fact that he is a moonshiner.

– I hate to disappoint you, but you are not the first moonshiner to ruin the lives of me and my loved ones.

– You seem to me to be enjoying upsetting me right now, – Rind teased. – Or you disguised the misery very well.

I cover my mouth with my palm again, literally clamping my lips to my teeth in an involuntary grin. I need to end this conversation before it has irreparable consequences for me in the form of a sudden eruption of sympathy for this heartless type.

– Mr. Twigson, I hope the unpleasant scandal that I might get into solely through your fault will pass into oblivion – that’s all I care about. You can take care of your psychotic fiancée and leave me out of it. Because if you do…

– …I get in trouble? – He interrupts me, and again he can’t hide the sneer.

– Actually, I had a more straightforward follow-up, but let’s have your version, since you’re so reverent.

– Crape… what? – The snout chokes with laughter, but then he bursts, and the last thing I hear before I press the end button is a loud burst of his laughter.

Infectious, my ass!

Because when I put the kettle on to make myself a killer strong mint tea, I see my own smiling reflection in the polished enamel surface.