Читать книгу One Cup Chronicles. Tales Within a Tale of the Russian Underworld - Владимир Росс - Страница 4

Tuesday rolled around once more. We always gathered around midday. I hurried out the door, knowing that they wouldn’t hesitate to start without me.

Near the café I already spotted Senya’s blue Cadillac and its perpetual companion, the driver with the face of a bull terrier. Anastas lived not too far away, so he usually went to the café on foot. But I knew that he was already sitting at a table with Senya and the two were already actively discussing some problem or other of Greek society. The rich aroma of coffee made me quicken my steps, and we were soon greeting one another with warm embraces.

“Valdemar, my dear man, you’re late. It isn’t fit for an old criminal. Have you no respect?” Senya jibed.

Anastas, as he was wont to do, merely rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“My friends, I apologize. Please forgive me; it won’t happen again. I was delayed by the ‘Hustler’ himself. I knew I had a highly respected critic to impress, and wished to put my best foot forward.”

Senya grinned with delight. Either he was extremely thrilled to have been deemed a critic, or our friendship just brought him that much delight. After a moment his expression simply exuded a readiness to soak everything in, with the café and interesting moments of new history.

I rarely use clichés when writing new stories. I like to use plain histories in my work. Now and again I simply take realistic embellishments, whitewash them, and construct them into a paragraph. From this process have emerged a great number of stories. And believe you me, a good half of their foundation is in reality, but in unique areas that don’t cover the regular life of the common man. Plots such as this are simply reflected on. And I surely wouldn’t want to disguise my stories likewise.

“Well that there is the ‘The Hustler’.”

I knew of the sublime capabilities Senya and Anastas had in card games. I knew of the weekly battles of these two old friends. And because of this they were twice as interested as I was to receive my new story. As the coffee gradually added to my confidence, I turned the pages of my handwritten sheet, raised my eyes and, seeing the expressions of joy on the faces of my friends, set about reciting the story.