Читать книгу The bride of the silver dragon - Dmitry Nazarov - Страница 7

As tense and idiotic as the situation is, the lewd joke about “my extra meters” almost rolls off my tongue. I have to literally bite down on it with my teeth so as not to ruin my first impression.

It seems, though, that no matter what I say or what bouquet I bring, Marguerite will still look at me like Godzilla.

Hell, maybe Laurie was right-and maybe I shouldn’t have forced the issue.

All right, we’d have to remedy the situation.

– Our conversation started on the wrong note, Mrs. Sheremetyevo. – I take the flowers and take a step toward her, hoping that at least they will soften a little disgruntled rigid crease between her eyebrows. – Allow me to introduce myself-K’rraig Shad’Fahr.

She doesn’t even lift a finger to accept the bouquet.

After a few seconds of decorum, I carelessly drop the flowers into the sink and out of the corner of my eye notice how the pretty but timid girl who let me in the house makes her way to the door in short strides. Margarita is keen on the same thing, but as soon as we are alone, she goes on the attack without warning.

– Mr. Koryaga, first of all, it’s almost midnight – and your insolent intrusion cannot be justified by any “special circumstances. Secondly, I don’t remember giving any reason to think that I wanted to talk to you face to face. Thirdly, no matter what trick you come up with, my answer will always be no! So, if you have any respect for other people’s privacy left in your moonlit ass, you will apologize immediately and get out of this house and out of the lives of all its inhabitants!

I look down on her and can’t help thinking that this woman-the most inappropriate of all! – it took exactly two dozen words to drive me crazy.

I stared at her for a minute or so, like some fool who saw fire for the first time, and then, again for the first time in my life, I took two steps back. I’d never been in a state of panic in front of a woman before. On the contrary-they themselves recognized my advantage, my status and my inner strength, and never tried to look at me the way Margarita Sheremetyeva did.

As if my fate depended on her decision.

As if she were the last and only person on earth who could help me.

As if she were the Silver Dragon of Shad’Far, by the grace of the moon, endowed with so many talents.

– I beg your pardon,” I said in my own distraught voice, while at the same time trying not to think how stupid I looked.

– Oh, that’s so noble! – Marguerite comes in and even claps her hands a couple of times. – First, in the middle of the night to show up at someone else’s house with some wretched broom, to play with muscles in front of a weak woman, to inflate your ego, and then, suddenly, to remember the rules of decency. I have a sad experience with moonshiners, and until recently I thought my sister’s husband was the most insolent and impudent of all your brethren. But you, Mr. Twigson, have managed to push him off his pedestal.

Luna, thank you for making all women chatty, not just the moon beauties.

Because as soon as Mrs. Sheremetjeva starts talking, I remember that I’m not a meek fluttering doe in front of me. There’s a whole damn Black Mamba with poisonous green eyes and a razor-sharp tongue.

– Um… – Again, I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to this speech, in which every quip is measured with apothecary precision, to make you itch and hurt but not kill you. – Laurie relayed your words, and since I considered them proof of some misunderstanding between us, here I am.

– Midnight,” she “puts the point”.

This woman seems to have a special affinity for always having the last word (or the last conclusion). That could be a problem, because I’m used to living by the same principles of avoiding ambiguities, turning pauses into dots, and all that sort of thing. In the Lunnic world, it’s extremely important to make sure that everything you say is as clear as possible, because any subtext can and will be used against you. That’s our instincts.

– I was passing through the neighborhood,” I say the first thing that comes to mind. – I figured since we’ve been sparring in the media for a while now, why not introduce ourselves in person.

– At midnight! – Margarita smiles toxically. – Your insolent lies are even more ridiculous than your broom and your visit and your whole presence under the same roof as those you are about to throw out into the street. You can sneer all you like, dancing a jig on the graves of your enemies, Mr. Twigson, but this time you will hear my heels tapping on your coffin lid. And if you don’t get out immediately, I swear it will happen in the very near future.

She’s just… gorgeous.

Even in those simple loose jeans and a baggy sweater, looking more like a scarecrow, Margarita Sheremetjeva somehow sparkles before my sophisticated eyes like the most luxurious diamond. What kind of magic is this? Why does it come from a human woman? And, most importantly, why does it have such an effect on me!

And finally, while I’m trying to figure out how best to pass the stalled half-conversation, Mrs. Sheremetjeva takes off her silly cap, threads her fingers through her long brown hair and… just shakes it. This is what all the owners of long hair, when they want to get hair in order. But I have to do my best not to rake this snake in an armful of it and run my fingers through its thick hair and check with my tongue to see if it has poisoned teeth in its mouth.

Mother Moon, I’m as stormy as the day of my first eclipse!

I take another step back and sit down in a chair to hide my thoughts.

I put my foot on my leg.

Strangely enough, it’s at this moment that R’ran’s words come to my mind. About the hammer and nails.

– I dare say, Madam Sheremeteff,’ I cleared my throat slightly to get rid of the inappropriate intimacy in my voice, ‘I came not with a broom, but with flowers, which I thought worthy of your undeniable beauty. I am truly sorry if I was imprudent in choosing this late hour, but do me the kindness of entering into my situation! After the report on your fair and the loud slogans about the lawlessness of the moonbats, among which your humble servant’s name was mentioned… – I take a respectful bow. – I could not sit and wait for a mob of angry and bloodthirsty revolutionaries to rush to my house.

To my great pleasure, I manage to make her hesitate to answer. Even if only for a few moments.

– Do you expect to sit in a safe place, Mr. Twigson? – She hangs her cap on the edge of the back of a vacant chair and grasps it with both hands, leaning forward exactly enough that I’m willing to bet she has gorgeous, lush breasts! No shapeless rags can hide that treasure! – Stop staring at me like that, or when I call the police in five minutes, I’ll have a sexual harassment charge on my record.

– Really?

– Would you dare to check?

– I dare you to keep talking. – It’s not without regret that I take my eyes off her form and look up. Which isn’t a bad thing, either, because those green eyes are so poisonous it’s unbelievable. – Since I haven’t dragged you out of bed sleepy and you don’t need a liter of coffee to have a meaningful conversation.

– I couldn’t have a meaningful conversation with you even if I drank a tankard of espresso, Mr. Important Moon Butt.

– Are you going to scratch my male ego and tell me you’re losing your head? – I’m sure I’m not, but I can’t deny myself the urge to see the anger in the corner of her unkind grin again.

– I’m losing my patience,” she warned me, lowering her voice a little.

I bet I just heard the warning rustle of the rattlesnake’s tail.

Truly, if it so happened that right now I had to choose where and with whom to spend the rest of my days, I would not hesitate to choose this woman’s company. And I’m sure I’d be enjoying it just as much, even a hundred years from now.

But since she really loses her patience, and the thought that in this big house there will probably be a couple of hammers of different caliber continues to peck my head, I reluctantly “put on” a businesslike expression and turn the conversation to the subject, for which, in fact, I came.

– Margarita… may I call you that? – I like the sound of her human name. And I like that it suits her so damn well.

Instead of answering, she brushes my question off as something insignificant. And I hover again for a while at the slight rippling of her sweater around her chest and uncomfortably pull my jacket up, hoping that at least it doesn’t give away my thoughts so obviously.

It turns out I was hoping for nothing.

– I’m sick of it. – She throws up both hands and pulls her phone out of her pocket. – It’s not enough that you show up at my house unannounced, but you also allow yourself to shamelessly paw me with your eyes.

– Do you think the police will accept my dirty thoughts as evidence of sexual harassment? – I put my hands expressively in my pants pockets.

– I suppose even this one little fact would be enough to remove you from the race, Mr. Twigson.

– Craig,” I pronounced my name in a human way. It’s a little clumsy, but it’s better than being wooden. But come on, Shad’Far, even the cute kitty has to stop pulling her mustache, or she’ll really give me a “romantic date” with the guys in uniform. – Honestly, I didn’t want to bother you over nothing, and I only came here to make sure we understood each other personally.

– Moonshine and honesty are something new. – Marguerite misses no opportunity to sneer.

I’d be very surprised if she missed this blatant provocation on my part.

– Let’s be very frank with each other-it’s in our mutual interest. The sooner we reach an understanding, the sooner everyone involved will get theirs.

– We’re not going anywhere from here,” she says clearly, almost verbatim.

– Margarita, you are cutting right through all my talents as a negotiator,” I reply peacefully. I wonder how she would snap back and practice her witticism if I stopped playing along and giving a reason. – But I’ll still try to change your mind.

– Just keep it to seven minutes. – Margarita shows me the screen of her cell phone – first the clock, which says “23.53,” and then the emergency number for the police. – Or better yet, five.

– You are decisively depriving me of my favorite methods of manipulation,” I pretend that her condition has stumped me.

– You will be credited for this confession, – she answers, still sternly. – And time is running out, Mr. Craig.

– Well, since we’ve finally moved on to civilized name-calling, I’ll see that as a good sign. And so, Margarita, with your permission, I will literally, in a nutshell, tell you the facts, which – alas – neither you nor I will be able to erase from our history without trace. It so happens that we own… how shall I put it better… claim to one cow. And we own different parts of it. In order to clear up any misunderstandings, I should point out that I knew nothing about your orphanage and that the building was already occupied.

– Tell me you wouldn’t have given it up, – she said.

And I’m glad about this question, because I get a good reason to be sincere.

– I won’t say that I would have given up, because if I had known about the asylum, I wouldn’t have even started… that’s all. – I make a lengthy gesture with my hand, as if to describe the whole tangle of our mutual claims. – You may have many reasons to dislike Moonies, Marguerite, and I even agree that many of us do behave inappropriately toward people, but believe me-I’m not one to put innocent children on the street for personal ambition. And I also don’t suppose you would sacrifice their futures for your own ambitions, either. Or to try to assert your rightness at any cost.

I pause to see her reaction, but all I get in response is a short one:

– You have six minutes left, Craig. I’d advise you not to practice your eloquence and speed up. Or is that it? – The last question sounds like an unconcealed sincere hope that I’ll really get out of here.

– You cut me without a knife, Margo! I’m not even finished with the appetizers, and you’re already shoving me out in the rain. And not even dessert!

– Marguerite, – she corrects me, and stops smiling completely. – Don’t forget, please.

– I beg your pardon. – I did forget myself. But it’s no wonder, because she just thought of crossing her arms over her chest, and my thoughts again unscrupulously “flowed” behind the belt. – And so, getting back to our conversation, we both agree that we want to resolve the situation in the most favorable and painless way possible so that the little orphans don’t get hurt. I know that you had to resort to some not-so-legitimate methods to keep the orphanage safe. And I also know what this story could have been like if my lawyers had made it public. So, as a friendly gesture, as a sign of my goodwill and willingness to negotiate even minimal benefits for myself, I asked my assistant to give you the original documents. As you understand, I am not going to use them.

– Five, – she said mechanically, and only my incomprehensible fascination with her image prevented me from responding with some very greasy wit.

– But you must also understand that my reputation is at stake, and I can’t afford to step aside so easily.

– Your lunar voters won’t forgive if their hero loses to some simple human woman? – Marguerite smirks. – That phrase is the whole point of our confrontation – you moonbats will do anything to be on top of the mountain.

– Otherwise the competition will just trample you, – I agree. – So as much as I’d like to step aside in dealing with this issue, it’s impossible.

– Jesus, Craig, let’s call a spade a spade! You can leave us alone any minute, but you’ll never do it, because you have to beat your opponents and prove to your constituents that you’ll go over their heads just to make the moonshiners feel good. Especially if it’s going to be the heads of mere mortals. – She comes closer, rests her palms on the table, and her dark hair runs down her shoulders in a silky wave. – Don’t take me for a fool, Twigson. I know why you sent the papers, and it’s no gesture of goodwill. If it weren’t for another moonbat, you’d be here in the company of bailiffs, not talking about the fate of the orphans that melted your heart of stone!

Not that I was serious about hiding this true reason for my action, but I didn’t expect Marguerite to open it any easier than a tin can.

And so, my adversary has a pretty face, stunning forms, a sharp tongue, and devilish perspicacity.

The situation is complicated.

And at the expense of circumstances I hadn’t even imagined.

In those photos Margarita Sheremetjeva looked like an ordinary housewife. Yes, a little aggressive, but no more dangerous than any other ordinary woman could be. Yes, she damn well is dressed almost the same way now, but now I see with my own eyes that this is the usual disguise of a very dangerous and ruthless predator.

It’s time to admit that I’ve never been so wrong in my life.

– Okay, Margarita, – I raise my hands in a gesture of surrender, “you’ve figured out my cunning plan.

– Don’t flatter yourself, Craig. – She doesn’t hesitate to answer, as always. – It was a very brazen and very foolhardy plan. You, like all Moonies, were convinced that human women lack basic thinking functions, and you make a nice gesture and I’ll come running to you myself with an offer to kick us all in the ass and take our building, because the rich moon children of full and perfectly well-off families really need another health and wellness center!

This may sound very silly, but before her rant, I didn’t see the situation from this… hmmm… angle. I mean, sure, I knew that the fate of fifty orphans lay in the balance between the fulfillment of my campaign promises and the votes of influential Moonies, but…

I have nothing to end this dotted line even in my own head.

And Marguerite takes my pause for the sound of fanfares announcing her victory.

– You see, – the sarcasm in her voice changes to bitterness. As if she wanted to be wrong for once in her life, too, because just now I had to say something that would undercut her belief that, without exception, all Mooners are heartless aliens. – You just do something, throw in a handout, and sincerely do not understand why they do not want to take it, because it is well wrapped and tied with a silk ribbon. And I don’t care if it’s just leftovers from the table.

– Margo… – I get up, feeling completely out of place.

– Margarita, Mr. Shad’Far,” she corrects me, but this time with no anger, only weariness. – Your time is up, and if you think I lack the courage to keep my promise, that is a second delusion on my part.

We cross glances again-and this time I’m sure there’s nothing in her gaze but a genuine desire to “develop” my face within the walls of this house. And when I just try to see this situation through Margo’s eyes, the picture in my head looks so unrepresentable that I have a second painful case of the pangs.

Okay, man, it’s really better to get out now.

And tomorrow will be a new day.

– I sincerely apologize for my inappropriate behavior. – I cleared my throat to disguise the shock of the situation unfolding toward me in the most unpresentable part of my body. – I know it would be impertinent of me to ask you for a favor, but maybe we could… pretend tonight’s conversation never happened?

For the first time tonight she looked a little confused, and that made the burden of my fiasco a little easier-at least I’d managed to stump her on something. Even if not where I intended, and almost unintentionally.

But Marguerite quickly comes to her senses and shrugs her shoulders indifferently.

– I am ready to agree to anything if you finally disappear.

I have to retreat without an epilogue, so as not to tease this fury. Now I truly believe that there are women in this world who are completely indifferent to my lunar attraction and male charisma. On top of that, they are capable of siccing the police on me. Just imagine the scandal that could be made out of all this, and I feel an itch in the back of my neck.

– Sorry again for the intrusion.

She gives me a hard look. My youth passed extremely quietly, as for a moonshiner, and I only climbed into girls’ windows a few times to do things with young pretty girls that their strict parents had better not know about. And I never got caught. But if that little girl’s father had caught us in the act, he would have had the same “look” as Margarita Sheremetyevo had at that moment, with his double-barrelled gun pointed right at my forehead.