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Clasp of the last lady-in-waiting Natalia Alexandrova

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Title: Clasp of the last lady-in-waiting

About the book "The clasp of the last maid of honor" Natalya Alexandrova

It all started a hundred years ago along with a story that shook the world. The emperor is executed, there is a coup in the country, the best surnames, the color of the nation, leave Russia in a hurry. She, the maid of honor of the last empress, cannot save the dying dynasty, but she is obliged to keep the necklace that keeps the warmth of the hands of the last Romanovs. In a roundabout way, through Turkey and the Balkans, the empress's diamond clasp will reach Europe in order to protect those who need care and mercy more than once. And who is now protecting whom - Nastya, the accidental heiress of that very lady-in-waiting, this diamond wonder, or her clasp, the confused and naive costume designer of the St. Petersburg theater? ..

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Nastya got off the minibus at the corner of Liteiny and Pestel and went to the Panteleymonovskaya Church, exposing her face to the spring sun and slightly smiling at her own thoughts. Favorite place, favorite time of the year. Spring came into its own, warmed the city, which had been chilled during the winter, with gentle rays, inspired hope in the inhabitants and gave way to summer.

A little before reaching the church, she turned into a house arch, blocked by wide wrought-iron gates. The gates, as always, were open, and the smile on Nastya's face faded: although their yard is neat, you can easily run into local punks. The best district of the city, the "golden triangle", two steps from the Summer Garden and the Engineer's Castle, and extremely unpleasant specimens come across. As in Noah's ark - seven pairs of clean, seven pairs of unclean. And you never know what pair you'll run into.

Nastya added a step to quickly cross the yard and reach her entrance. But didn't have time. Two men stepped forward from a neighboring gate, one better than the other - red, with colorless impudent eyes and a sore on his lip, and dark, with greasy hair and a black eye.

That's definitely a couple of unclean ones.

“Girl,” the red-haired man called out to her, “where are you in such a hurry?” There is a speaker for you!

- No time, my husband is waiting for me! - Nastya tried not to show either fear or hostility and tried to get around the punks in a wide arc.

But they were serious. The dark-haired one blocked her path, scowled, the red-haired one jumped to the side and began to frequent again:

- Where are you, where are you? They say there is a conversation.

She doesn't want to talk to us. The dark-haired man was filled with anger. We are not her flight birds. She sees us, Vitasya, finely. You see, Vitasya, she is one of those rich people!

- Guys, don't! - Nastya was still trying to slow everything down. - How rich am I? I’m telling you, we’ll talk some other time, but now I don’t have time ...

She looked around quickly.

In their yard, someone always flashed by - either one of the neighbors, or a janitor, or a plumber. But now, when it was so needed, there was not a soul.

- Once she! the dark-haired man hissed and spat at his feet. “Now you will find time for us.”

He grabbed Nastya's bag and pulled it towards him.

She released the bag - there was nothing of value in it. She carried her wallet and mobile phone in the pockets of her jacket, and the bag itself was old and worn. Yes, no bag in the world is worth the trouble that the brunette's bloodshot eyes promised. However, anger rose in his heart.

- Satisfied? She stared into the brunette's eyes. - I took the bag - now get out of the way!

“Look how you spoke,” he was surprised. “No, whore, you won’t get rid of us so easily!” Vitasik and I will deal with you in full! Really, Vitas?

“Don’t get excited, Gesha,” the red-haired man answered from behind. - She is a smart girl, now she will become friends with us. - The redhead grabbed her from behind, and even through her clothes she felt how sweaty and dirty his paws were.

- Get off, goat! The words were from someone else's, not her dictionary. In the next second, she kicked the redhead with all her might on the leg.

Apparently, it hit well, because he unclenched his hands and groaned in pain. But the brunette became furious more than ever and punched Nastya in the face. She screamed and felt something hot come out of her nose.

Now there was no hope for a peaceful settlement, it was necessary to defend ourselves by all available means. Nastya threw her leg forward, trying to hit the brunette in the most vulnerable place, but he bounced back. The redhead had already come to his senses and again grabbed her across the torso.

The brunet, puffing and angrily flashing his eyes, fell on her and tried to rip off her jacket. Nastya felt his breath on her face - a mixture of garlic, beer alcohol and mint chewing gum. She wanted to scream, but nausea rose in her throat. And as luck would have it, not a soul in the yard!

Suddenly, a surprisingly familiar voice rang out from behind the bandit:

“Come on, you bastards, let the girl go!”

The brunet turned around, scowled, hissed:

- Who is so smart?

- I! – Fist blue-eyed blond, describing a beautiful arc, crashed into his cheekbone. The dark-haired man swayed, stepped back, looked back at his partner. The redhead was in no hurry to help. He had already released Nastya and rushed to the gate, having managed to throw on the go:

- Tick, Gesha!

Gesha hesitated for a couple of seconds, but Nastya the savior was already walking towards him, waving his fists. The redhead took off running.

- Nastena, is that you? the blond wondered.

"I didn't think I'd be happy for you!" - Nastya rummaged through her pockets in search of a handkerchief.

- Here, take it! - The blond, who is also ex-husband Sergei, handed her a handkerchief, and she put it on her broken nose.

- How are you? Sergei stepped closer.

“You see how it is,” Nastya snapped. - The best!

"Come on, I'll walk you to your apartment."

Somewhere upstairs, a window banged, and an old woman's voice asked:

"Girl, what happened to you?" Have you been attacked?

- They didn’t attack, she just saw a rat! Sergey shouted. “Your rats are just an abyss, one of them is crawling along the wall, straight to you!”

The window slammed shut. Sergei grabbed Nastya by the shoulders and dragged her to the entrance. In an embrace, they climbed to its third floor. There he took the keys from her hands.

“I myself,” Nastya protested weakly.

“All right,” he waved it off. “Better hold the handkerchief tighter, otherwise you’ll splatter the whole jacket with blood.”

She clutched the handkerchief tighter and almost cried out in pain. Did those bastards break her nose? What is it? For a hundred years she has been walking in this yard, and nothing has ever happened. Teenagers whistle, shout after something - and that's it. And here, one might say, in broad daylight ... They attacked, pulled out the bag, almost raped - these two were completely out of their minds, or what? Probably smoked some rubbish. Okay, what about these freaks to think.

She stumbled on the threshold: dizzy. Sergei firmly took her by the elbow and pushed her into the hallway. Nastya plopped down on an ottoman by the door and threw back her head so that blood would not drip onto the floor and clothes.

Sergei closed the door and looked around with curiosity.

“Oh,” he said, “you re-pasted the wallpaper, and the nightstand is new.

Nastya remembered how two years ago one of the three terrible men who came for money finally kicked the nightstand on which the phone was standing, and it fell to the floor and broke. The bedside table with the broken door was no longer good for anything, and Nastya took it out piece by piece to the trash heap.

- Why are you sitting there? he asked in a businesslike manner. “You need to wash your face and apply something cold to your nose, otherwise it will swell – you won’t recognize yourself in the mirror tomorrow.”

Here he is right. Nastya wanted to get up, but her legs could not hold. Hanger, bedside table, slippers suddenly spun in a round dance. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall.

- Hey, are you alive? Sergey shook her by the shoulders. Her head exploded with pain, but it stopped spinning, so when Nastya cautiously opened her eyes, it turned out that all the things in the hallway were in their places.

Sergei, meanwhile, deftly unbuttoned her jacket, helped her up and pushed her to the bathroom door.

“Don’t close the door,” he said, running cold water, “in case you feel bad.”

Nastya looked at herself in the mirror. If she had the strength, she would now scream in fear. She was looking at a terrible mug, which you will not see in every horror movie. Her hair is tangled, her eyes look like a spectacled bear because of smeared mascara. The mascara runs down the cheeks and onto the neck with blood. Despite the handkerchief, the blood got on the blouse. Okay, to hell with her.

Nastya leaned over the sink and began splashing cold water on her face. After a couple of minutes, my head cleared up a little. She dried her face with a towel. Nosebleed, but less so. The nose, if not touched, hurt quite tolerably. In the mirror, she decided not to look, so as not to be upset.

- Nastya, how are you? Sergei opened the door.

- Fine. She tried to speak as firmly as possible. - I'll go out now.

Indeed, the head was not spinning, the legs did not tremble. She made her way to the kitchen, only leaning against the wall a couple of times.

Looks like she had ice in the fridge, and it wouldn't hurt to drink some water. However, the slight effort it took to open the refrigerator made his vision dark again, and the walls swayed and floated.

- Yes, you wait! Sergei picked her up and sat her on a chair. “Listen, maybe you have a concussion?

She saw his eyes very close and realized that he was sincerely worried. He could play with words, with words he lied to her endlessly. But there was nothing to be done about his eyes - she always saw in his eyes when he was lying. Not immediately, of course, over time I learned.

Now he wasn't lying, now he was really worried about her. Nastya glanced at the wall, where a plate hung, which they once brought from Turkey. The plate behaved decently - it did not double, did not triple, did not spin in a crazy dance. She closed her left eye and looked back at the plate. Then she did the same with the right.

“I don’t have any concussion,” she sighed with relief, “you shouldn’t worry so much.

- Like this? – he was indignant. You were almost attacked...

- Yes, they would not have done anything, they only scared. - Nastya wanted her voice to sound as natural as possible. “So thank you, of course, for punching this bastard, but…”

- Wait a minute! He had already taken the ice out of the freezer and put it in a bag, which he found with his master's hand in the kitchen table drawer. He wrapped the ice pack in a towel and handed it to her to put on her nose.

- Hold on longer, otherwise tomorrow the nose will be like a ball.

“I know it myself,” Nastya thought, but she didn’t say anything out loud. Still, he saved her from these scumbags, helped a lot.

She pressed the cold bundle to her nose. At first, it was so painful that tears came out, and Nastya closed her eyes so that Sergey would not see them. She'll start to regret it, but she didn't want to at all. She wanted to drink hot sweet tea and lie down in a soft bed. You can also take a pill for pain, and then sleep until the morning. And in the morning already lament about the nose and frayed nerves.

But if she now shows weakness, Sergey will never leave. He will fuss around her, groan, bring tea to bed, begin to look for a cure. She will also think that she can’t be alone - suddenly the blood will not stop or it will become very bad, she will be asked to spend the night ... She doesn’t know how convincing he can be.

She doesn't have the strength to argue with him. It is now that she is still somehow holding on to adrenaline, and after a while she will completely fall apart.

Nastya stirred and shifted the ice pack to her left hand. With her right hand, she reached under the collar of her blouse and felt a barely noticeable scar under her collarbone. Now it was a thin thread that would soon be invisible. But for now, you can find it. The scar itched, which was exactly what she wanted.

A picture immediately arose before her eyes: one of the three terrible men, the youngest, with completely white empty eyes, holds a knife at her neck. He pushes it in slowly, but hard. Another at this time says that a little more, and the knife will cut the carotid artery. Then nothing will save Nastya - she will bleed to death in a few minutes.

She didn't feel pain then, just horror. If this guy hadn't put the knife away, she probably would have died of horror.

But he took it away, because Sergei - beaten up, with bulging crazy eyes - thrust all the money that was set aside for a rainy day and vacation to the chief. And great-grandmother's earrings with emeralds. The earrings were old, of excellent workmanship, but fragile.

Earrings were the only family jewel, passed down in their family from mother to daughter. Nastya never wore them, because the locks were loose and the stones did not fit tightly. There were no more jewelry in the house, except for Nastya's wedding ring. The chief bandit dismissively dismissed him.

Sergey then said something else, asked, promised, begged. Nastya did not hear: she saw how her blood was flowing, and fainted. And when I woke up, there was no one in the apartment, except for Sergei. He said that there was no more blood, there was only a scratch, it would heal quickly, so it’s not even worth going to the emergency room, because they would ask where the wound came from. And now they don't care about anything.

He was so organized - he instantly put the ruined apartment in order, transferred Nastya to the bedroom, brought her tea. And he spoke and spoke ... He said that everything would be different for them now, everything would be fine, that he would definitely decide with money that she could rely on him. That when he saw how the bandit brought a knife to her neck, everything turned upside down in his soul, and he realized that if something happened to Nastya, his wife, he would no longer be able to live.

He talked so much that his words merged into one stream, from which occasionally jumped out “I promise”, “never”, “became a different person”.

Nastya did not react at all. After everything that happened, she went limp, there was a feeling that all the bones were pulled out of her and only the shell remained.

Finally she fell asleep. I woke up early in the morning when it was still dark. Sergey was fast asleep next to him. Why, I wonder, did he take that he became a different person? Exactly the same, nothing has changed. But she has changed.

In the bathroom, she examined the dried crust where the scratch had been. Still, the scar will remain. And not only on the neck, but also in the soul.

Sergei approached, inaudibly stepping barefoot, and carefully hugged her from behind.

“I promise you they will never enter this apartment again,” he said.

“That's for sure,” Nastya thought, but lowered her eyes so that he would not guess anything.

Then he left, and she called work, said that she was not feeling well and would not come today. I borrowed money from a neighbor Zoya Vasilievna for a new castle, called the master, who had to pay for the urgency. While the master worked, she collected her husband's things. A husband who will soon cease to be him.

Got two suitcases. She left them with Zoya Vasilievna in the hallway and called him on his mobile. He answered immediately, did not wait for questions and reported that he was doing everything to get money. He kept repeating: “we”, “with us”, “for us”, so Nastya could not stand it.

“There is no us,” she said firmly. Now you're alone, you can do whatever you want. I'm filing for divorce. You don't live in my apartment anymore.

The apartment really was hers, or rather, them with her mother. Shortly before her marriage, my mother met a handsome Belgian in a bookstore and married him. Before leaving for Brussels, she strictly ordered her daughter not to register anyone in the apartment - then, they say, she would not get rid of it. And in general, my mother said, it would be good for her to choose a guy from our city. Here at least you can look at his family and understand what people are like. About some, it is immediately clear that it is not worth connecting life with such a family.

Sergei had an apartment. Three-room apartment, inherited by him and his sister after the death of their parents. But the sister's family consisted of five people - she and her husband and three children, there was no place for Sergei there. The sister treated Nastya well, especially after she found out that she had her own housing. And everything was fine, they lived for two years, and then ...

Nastya touched the scar on her neck again. It gave her strength.

“Listen,” she said firmly and even raised herself from her chair, “I am very grateful to you for your help, but now you better leave. Nothing will happen to me. I'll take painkillers and go to bed.

- Good! - He agreed unexpectedly quickly, and she thought that it would take a long time to argue with him. But can I call you tomorrow?

“Of course,” she nodded at the telephone on the nightstand, “I have the same number.

Two years ago, she blacklisted him on her cell phone, and she didn’t answer a regular phone at all. This went on for two months, then he stopped calling.

- Don't go, I'll slam the door myself! He leaned over and kissed her somewhere on the temple. “Don’t walk around the yard alone, since you have such a disgrace here and the devil knows who is hanging around.

She found the strength to get up and walk him to the front door. Not because I wanted to show attention, I just needed to make sure that he really left and the door was locked with all the locks.

This last effort demanded too much of her. I wanted to collapse right on the rug by the door and lie at least until the morning. Nastya called herself to order and with difficulty, but dragged herself to the bed. And she fell without undressing.

Sergei left the entrance and went across the yard. Before reaching the gate, he slowed down and looked around. Two men emerged from the doorway - a redhead, with impudent eyes and a sore on his lip, and a dark one, with greasy hair and a black eye. On the cheekbone of the brunette, a second, completely fresh bruise was pouring.

“Where are you in such a hurry, Grey?” - said the redhead. - Did you forget that we need to pay off?

- I didn't forget, I didn't forget! Sergey reached into his pocket and took out a couple of crumpled pieces of paper.

“Uh, no,” grumbled the second. - Few!

- What does little mean? Sergei snapped. - As agreed. It's good to dress up!

- Not enough means not enough! The brunette didn't let up. - You broke my face in nature! You have to pay for this!

– Is that how? Sergei rolled his eyes. You almost broke her nose! He hit her so hard that she might have a concussion or something worse. We didn't agree! I only told you to scare her, but not to beat her!

“I ordered it, I didn’t order it,” grumbled the brunette. - She asked for it! That bitch, you said it yourself.

- Little did I say. These are our business, they don't concern you. I only hired you to scare you.

- Here we are intimidated! And only you owe me for this, how the hell is it ...

- Moral damage! - prompted a friend Red.

- In-in, for immoral damage! So drive another thing.

“I don’t think so,” Sergey grinned. - Take what they give you. Dissatisfied - contact the prosecutor's office!

“We will turn,” the redhead drawled in an unctuous voice. - We will certainly turn to this. Just not to the prosecutor's office. It is too far. We will turn to her, to your grandmother. We will tell her everything about you. How did you contract us to attack her in the alley. How much did he pay us for this...

- We'll try anyway! The redhead chuckled, his little eyes twinkling angrily. “Let's try and see who she's more likely to believe, you or us. Especially if we tell her that Nikolai Nikolaevich's people were looking for you a week ago. And found, they always find.

“How…how do you know?” - Sergei turned pale, more precisely, turned gray, a blue vein clogged at his temple.

And everyone knows about him! The red-haired Vitasya grinned disgustingly. - Not everyone knows him personally, not everyone is as lucky as you, but everyone knows about him. So don't show off, pay another piece - and we disperse, we have a lot to do.

- Here and now, - Sergey took out two five hundred, - I don’t have more, so take what you have and get out of here. And then, as if the locals did not notice you. Here, in the neighboring yard, Vovan sells drugs, so he doesn’t need the police to be interested in the yard.

Sergey lied about Vovan - there was such a guy, but Sergey had no idea what he was doing. Moreover, two years have passed, maybe Vovan moved out a long time ago. Or went to jail. But these fools were affected by his lies, they silently took the money and disappeared.

Sergei sighed and wandered into the street. Near the gate he ran into some old woman.

“Hello, Seryozha,” she said, and he recognized Nastya’s neighbor Zoya Vasilievna from the apartment opposite.

“Hello,” he muttered, cursing his bad luck in his soul, “it was necessary to get into such a mess!” I wonder if she saw him in the company of those two or did not notice? Maybe you didn't pay attention? No, the old woman is not in insanity, she notices everything.

Sergey remembered how two years ago, after Nastya's call, he rushed in and rang the doorbell for a long time, because this bitch had already changed the lock.

Look, ran away, quickly worked! Either you ask for a button to be sewn for a week, otherwise the husband did not have time to leave - so she changed the locks! He was beside himself with anger - just think, his troubles were not enough for him, so his wife also kicked him out of the house! Found, you know, the time to get out, the right to download, to sort things out! The ground under his feet is on fire, and she ...

In anger, he had already forgotten how Nastya, pale to blue, looked with horror at the knife in the hands of Vasya Belenky. Vasya got his nickname for his bright eyes, which, as soon as Vasya pulled out a knife, became completely white.

They said that Vasya had already cut many people and that a place in a psychiatric hospital had been prepared for him a long time ago, he even had a certificate, but somehow he managed to walk free. And the sight of his white eyes frightened his victims more than the knife in his hand. And Nastya almost lost consciousness from horror. But Sergei saved her, persuaded these three to give him a reprieve! And she ... From anger, he thumped the door with his foot.

Then the door of the apartment opposite opened, and the neighbor Zoya Vasilievna beckoned him silently.

In the hallway, she showed him two suitcases and told him to go faster from here, because the noise would certainly attract neighbors and someone would call the police, and he, Sergei, as far as she understands, is useless now.

Sergey suppressed the curses that were ready to break out of the language, took his things and left. Somehow this old witch managed to convince him. And after all, she didn’t yell, didn’t swear, she spoke calmly, even quietly, and her hands took the suitcases themselves, and her legs themselves went away from this house.

Two years have passed since then, he has never returned here. At first, he called by phone, tried to somehow agree with his wife, because there was nowhere to live. Of course, his sister did not let him live in their common apartment. Didn't even let me sleep.

You, she said, let her go, so then she won’t be kicked out. The son-in-law looked like a wolf, the nephews also took up a circular defense. The sister, in the heat of the conversation, said that she knew everything about him, she knew why his wife kicked him out of the house.

Did Nastka call her? No, it turns out that someone saw him in the basement where he spent time and left all the money. Someone from distant acquaintances found out, told someone - rumors spread very quickly, they say that St. Petersburg is a small city. So my sister was very much against him. I have, she said, children, and you, such and such, want to leave them homeless? The share of this apartment is yours by law ...

Then he said something to his sister in his hearts, the son-in-law got into a fight, they were barely separated. And his position is terrible, the money had to be obtained in three days, no matter what.

Then the sister says that she will pay him his share of the apartment, only for him to sign a waiver of all claims. And the money offered is ridiculous, five times less than the share is actually worth. More, he says, we don’t have - you can see for yourself, the family is big, there are three children.

And after all, she stood to death, she didn’t add a ruble, an infection, and also a dear sister! I had to play by her rules, and as she gave him the money, she said that his spirit was not near her house. And didn't call. I don’t want, he says, to risk children, as if he were the last bandit, some kind of serial maniac ...

He then paid off his debts, rented an apartment, changed his job. Everything seemed to get better, and then I could not resist, again went to that basement. And lost all the money.

These thoughts swept through his head like a whirlwind, and Sergey came to his senses. Now he does not need to think about the past, but about the present, because if he does not do what he was ordered, then he will not have a future. This he knows for sure.

Hello, Zoya Vasilievna! he repeated, and smiled, as he thought, affably and charmingly. - Glad to see you! Still strong and healthy!

“I’m creaking slowly,” the old woman answered calmly and walked past without stopping.

She did not ask what fate he was here for, why he came to Nastya. The old woman is not that inquisitive, but not stupid, she will never ask directly. He was sure that she would not immediately run to Nastya with the question of whether she intended to make peace with her ex-husband. Well, okay. He has nothing to do with this.

Sergei pushed the old woman out of his head and focused on what happened to him a week ago.

A week before that day, he walked slowly down the street, frowning at his feet.

It was a wonderful sunny day in the city, pretty girls came across to Sergey every now and then - but he was not up to them. He had problems, very serious problems, and he had no idea how to get out of them.

He was already approaching his house - or rather, the house where he found a temporary shelter - when a dark blue car pulled up next to him.

Instantly, his reflexes kicked in. Sergey bent down, darted away from the car and, like a frightened hare, ran away to the familiar gateway. The iron gate was not locked, he pushed it, slipped inside and was about to close the gate behind him, when suddenly a heavy hand fell on his shoulder.

"Where are you going, Grey?" A familiar voice sounded.

Sergei turned around and saw the round smiling face of Fedya Spider, the right hand of Nikolai Nikolaevich.

Sergei's reflexes worked faster than his brains again. He darted to the side, ducked, tried to slip between the Spider and the brick wall ...

But he didn't. The heavy fist of the Spider came into contact with his face, and Sergei passed out.

True, he soon came to his senses - but found that he was not in a familiar gateway, but in an even more familiar place - in the office of Nikolai Nikolayevich.

The boss himself was sitting at a wide desk, shuffling a deck of cards thoughtfully.

Sergei sometimes wondered why Nikolai Nikolaevich needed a desk - no one had ever seen any piece of paper, or a book, or a computer standing on this table. The boss's desk was always pristine. Why is he needed then? Just for solidity? All the bosses in the office have a desk, so he must have one too?

Although ... after all, he sometimes has to sign at least some documents? After all, he probably has real estate, property, property ...

Sergey brushed aside these extraneous thoughts and tried to focus on his own situation.

It was joyless.

He was half-sitting in a chair in front of a huge desk, and his breathing was noisy behind him. As if there was an angry elephant puffing.

However, it was not an elephant. It was Fedya the Spider, and this is much worse than an elephant or any other animal.

- Well, did you wake up? - Nikolai Nikolaevich said, folding the deck. “We need to talk for a long time.

Sergei was silent. Actually, while his participation in the conversation was not implied.

Do you remember how much you owe me? - lazily held out Nikolai Nikolaevich.

Now Sergei needed an answer. Fast and accurate. However, he was silent.

Sergei was silent not because he did not know the answer. He knew him too well. If he had been woken up in the middle of the night and asked how much he owed Nikolai Nikolaevich, he would have answered immediately, without thinking for a second. This debt was his nightmare.

But to answer now meant to hasten the reckoning. Retribution, which was already inevitable.

- You are not answering? Nikolai Nikolaevich said sadly. - You don't remember, do you? Wow! It seems to be a young man, but such a bad memory! You should take vitamins, or something ... I’m much older than you, but I don’t complain about memory.

“Boss, I can remind him!” came the dreamy voice of the Spider behind Sergei.

- And you, Fedya, better shut up! Nikolai Nikolaevich shouted at him. - Look how you decorated it! They told you to, didn't they? How many times have I told you...

No, but he wanted to run away...

- Run away! - mimicked the thug Nikolai Nikolaevich. “Never do what you are not told to do!” It is clear?

“I-asno…” Spider drawled.

- Well, that's clear! - And Nikolai Nikolaevich again turned to Sergei: - But I don’t forget anything. Especially - who and how much owes me. You owe me twelve thousand eight hundred. Euro.

Someone said that love is a toothache in the heart.

Sergei did not agree with this. He didn’t give a damn about love, but this debt, this crazy, by his standards, figure was a real toothache in his heart. In his heart, every euro out of those twelve thousand eight hundred was given with acute pain.

The most terrible thing is that every day this amount grew, grew like a snowball, and he had no chance of paying off Nikolai Nikolayevich.

That is ... sometimes Sergey had a vague hope that he could pay off the only way available to him - to borrow more money and win back.

But it always ended the same way: he borrowed money, lost it, and the debt increased again ...

"And what am I to do with you?" - lazily held out Nikolai Nikolaevich.

“Give me one more chance…” Sergei replied in a weak, hopeless voice. “Give me just one more chance… just one more, the very last…”

– Chance? The boss sighed heavily. - Yes, how much can you? I gave you a chance a hundred, two hundred times - and each time you said that this was the last one, that this time it would all end, you would pay me off and hide from my eyes ... but it would never end! Only the grave will fix the hunchback!

“One more time… the very last time…” Sergey pleaded, and he felt that his voice sounded so pitiful, so false, that he would not have believed himself.

- Again? - Nikolai Nikolaevich asked again, and suddenly Sergei caught a vague hope in his voice.

- Yes, one more, the very last time!

“Well… but this will actually be the last one.

- Yes, yes, the very last ... - Sergei repeated, not believing his unexpected luck.

Was he lucky again? Did he really get on a good day, and Nikolai Nikolayevich would give him money again?

Out of the corner of his consciousness, Sergey caught something strange in the boss's voice - but did not attach any importance to it. Nothing mattered now, except that he would have money again, and again, once again he would be able to feel the divine excitement of the game.

For a long time it was no longer important for him to repay the damned debt, for a long time it was not important to return to normal life. Only one thing was important - the game ...

- Yes, yes, the last, the very last time! he repeated, and his eyes lit up. - Give me just a thousand ... just a thousand euros - and tomorrow I will give you everything!

- What? Nikolai Nikolayevich looked at him in surprise. Do you want money again? No, this is out of the question! I won't give you any more money, and don't ask!

- How? - Sergey felt that the ground was leaving from under his feet. - How? You said you'd give me another chance!

“I promised to give you one last chance, the very last chance, but I didn’t promise you money!”

- How so? - Sergey did not understand anything. What else can be a chance, if not money, to recoup?

“Very simple,” Nikolai Nikolaevich smiled wryly. We will play with you. Let's play twenty-one. You like to play "twenty-one"?

- Yes ... - Sergei drawled, not yet knowing what awaited him. He didn't want to think about it.

- So that's great. We will play once - only once! I'm betting all your loss. If you win, you owe me nothing more.

That's definitely a couple of unclean ones.

“Girl,” the red-haired man called out to her, “where are you in such a hurry?” There is a speaker for you!

- No time, my husband is waiting for me! - Nastya tried not to show either fear or hostility and tried to get around the punks in a wide arc.

But they were serious. The dark-haired one blocked her path, scowled, the red-haired one jumped to the side and began to frequent again:

- Where are you, where are you? They say there is a conversation.

She doesn't want to talk to us. The dark-haired man was filled with anger. We are not her flight birds. She sees us, Vitasya, finely. You see, Vitasya, she is one of those rich people!

- Guys, don't! - Nastya was still trying to slow everything down. - How rich am I? I’m telling you, we’ll talk some other time, but now I don’t have time ...

She looked around quickly.

In their yard, someone always flashed by - either one of the neighbors, or a janitor, or a plumber. But now, when it was so needed, there was not a soul.

- Once she! the dark-haired man hissed and spat at his feet. “Now you will find time for us.”

He grabbed Nastya's bag and pulled it towards him.

- Satisfied? She stared into the brunette's eyes. - I took the bag - now get out of the way!

“Look how you spoke,” he was surprised. “No, whore, you won’t get rid of us so easily!” Vitasik and I will deal with you in full! Really, Vitas?

- Get off, goat! The words were from someone else's, not her dictionary. In the next second, she kicked the redhead with all her might on the leg.

Suddenly, a surprisingly familiar voice rang out from behind the bandit:

“Come on, you bastards, let the girl go!”

The brunet turned around, scowled, hissed:

- Who is so smart?

- Tick, Gesha!

Gesha hesitated for a couple of seconds, but Nastya the savior was already walking towards him, waving his fists. The redhead took off running.

- Nastena, is that you? the blond wondered.

"I didn't think I'd be happy for you!" - Nastya rummaged through her pockets in search of a handkerchief.

- Here, take it! - The blond, who is also ex-husband Sergei, handed her a handkerchief, and she put it on her broken nose.

- How are you? Sergei stepped closer.

“You see how it is,” Nastya snapped. - The best!

"Come on, I'll walk you to your apartment."

Somewhere upstairs, a window banged, and an old woman's voice asked:

"Girl, what happened to you?" Have you been attacked?

- They didn’t attack, she just saw a rat! Sergey shouted. “Your rats are just an abyss, one of them is crawling along the wall, straight to you!”

The window slammed shut. Sergei grabbed Nastya by the shoulders and dragged her to the entrance. In an embrace, they climbed to its third floor. There he took the keys from her hands.

“I myself,” Nastya protested weakly.

“All right,” he waved it off. “Better hold the handkerchief tighter, otherwise you’ll splatter the whole jacket with blood.”

Sergei closed the door and looked around with curiosity.

“Oh,” he said, “you re-pasted the wallpaper, and the nightstand is new.

Here he is right. Nastya wanted to get up, but her legs could not hold. Hanger, bedside table, slippers suddenly spun in a round dance. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall.

Sergei, meanwhile, deftly unbuttoned her jacket, helped her up and pushed her to the bathroom door.

“Don’t close the door,” he said, running cold water, “in case you feel bad.”

* * *

That's definitely a couple of unclean ones.

“Girl,” the red-haired man called out to her, “where are you in such a hurry?” There is a speaker for you!

- No time, my husband is waiting for me! - Nastya tried not to show either fear or hostility and tried to get around the punks in a wide arc.

But they were serious. The dark-haired one blocked her path, scowled, the red-haired one jumped to the side and began to frequent again:

- Where are you, where are you? They say there is a conversation.

She doesn't want to talk to us. The dark-haired man was filled with anger. We are not her flight birds. She sees us, Vitasya, finely. You see, Vitasya, she is one of those rich people!

- Guys, don't! - Nastya was still trying to slow everything down. - How rich am I? I’m telling you, we’ll talk some other time, but now I don’t have time ...

She looked around quickly.

In their yard, someone always flashed by - either one of the neighbors, or a janitor, or a plumber. But now, when it was so needed, there was not a soul.

- Once she! the dark-haired man hissed and spat at his feet. “Now you will find time for us.”

He grabbed Nastya's bag and pulled it towards him.

- Satisfied? She stared into the brunette's eyes. - I took the bag - now get out of the way!

“Look how you spoke,” he was surprised. “No, whore, you won’t get rid of us so easily!” Vitasik and I will deal with you in full! Really, Vitas?

- Get off, goat! The words were from someone else's, not her dictionary.

In the next second, she kicked the redhead with all her might on the leg.