He is real

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Chapter 6

2016. Israel

The guy in the red T-shirt was the first thing that appeared in my mind that had returned from sleep, making me rejoice at the awakening. Having felt around, in the darkness, artificially created by the shutters of window blinds closed tightly, for the phone slid between the wall and the edge of the bed, I picked it up and held it to my face. The harsh light coming from the screen strained my already heavy eyes.

“Thank you for yesterday night, I wish I didn’t have to wait for you for so long, but I will wait for the next one”.

— You are my darling, — I said with delight and warmth. They were the feelings caused in me by Misha if I disregard my wild desire of his crazily beautiful and sexy body that I wanted to touch and pat without stopping, even for a smoke break.

“Today’s night could be much better with you” — I started typing on the phone and… I don’t know, I started to doubt, it seemed ridiculous to me. And what will Misha think? Or maybe… no, nonsense. Sent what I managed to write as it was.

Only a few words sent by him charged me with a good mood, despite the end of the week, which meant the inevitable beginning of the hardest and craziest working nights. Just one thought that I’ll have to plunge into this madness, filled with drunken, sniffed, inadequate people with half-naked bodies, wildly screaming with joy, made me frown. And I used to have fun with them.

Hello, new day!

I cast a hurt glance at the phone with regret and got off the bed with a grudge against myself.

— Soon we will see each other” — I said, as if addressing Misha, then added words addressed to my “invisible friend”: — And you stay close today, I really need you. You know it yourself.

Later in the evening my boss called, in excited voice, he explained that I would have to work on the yacht, the clients are rich and demanding, and they agree to pay for my presence until the morning if I match their preferences, so it was worthwhile to choose the right outfit. To wrap me, like goods, in expensive gift wrapping.

The motor yacht moored on the pier of Tel Aviv behind a fashionable hotel turned out to be one of the exact copies of those that you can only see in films about high living: white, large, three-deck and streamlined, lit by multi-colored lights, spreading their light on the night pier. Loud music and the passengers’ shouts came from its board. A young, tanned guy of typical Israeli appearance met us (me and my partner), asked to take off our shoes and helped us climb aboard.

In the middle of carefree merriment, on the main spacious deck, the hero of the day was dancing in front of the fans — young girls and very elderly men, who were sitting down along the oblong table on the left side. They were clapping at him, and he shouted out in response to applause: “Welcome to my home,” although his Arab appearance did not reveal at all that he was English.

— An Arab sheikh is in his underpants, — said Lena, laughing, she got to the point, having noticed it correctly. His short body was almost bare, only his square hips were covered by swimwear boxers.

It was with Lena that I most often worked in tandem. Extremely eye catching young girl, slightly shorter than average, with perfect body proportions and a pretty face, which didn’t do without a plastic surgeon services. She came to Israel to earn money to buy an apartment in Russia. And there’s nothing to be surprised about, the Israelis for the most part, no matter how often the vice of greed can be attributed to them can loosen purse-strings with all their hearts. Especially on Sabbath. The God himself orders to do it. And the Arabs, of course, they suddenly become the most generous in the world when they throw a holiday. It might sound dramatic, but of all the men of different nationalities (Asians, Americans, Europeans, Indians, Russians, our Jews and Caucasians, I cannot remember who else — I was lucky to spend nights with many people, brightening up their leisure time), the Arabs really stood out with their wasteful generosity.

Having changed clothes in a cabin, Lena and I came out on the deck wearing bathing suits that covered little. We were dancing and created the purchased atmosphere of fun. The Arab, so let’s call him the “hero of the day”, who cares about their names (although you could choose Lena’s option, but I liked mine more, it’s my own, after all), approached Lena and me and said out loud:

— I’m going to tip these girls a thousand dollars, you’ll see! — And he began to dance, hanging on our thin shoulders, and in the meantime the yacht set off, sailing from the pier.

Cutting through the waves, the yacht went on quickly, moving farther and farther into the dark space of the sea, swaying considerably from side to side. Lena and I, clinging tightly to the handrails that stretched along the side, continued to dance despite the feeling that the floor was falling away underneath. The “hero of the day” with a smile painted on his face and eyes shining like glass approached one of the guests, returned with money and began to tuck the bills (oh yeah, they are these pieces of paper soaked with indelible paint that are loved by Anna) into our bras and panties. Surprisingly, my friend and I looked at each other; our eyes sparkled, shimmering brighter than diamonds. And we continued to create the illusion of fun, smiling, dancing and clapping, clapping, dancing and smiling. Somehow, as if we were in tune with the “hero of the day”.

Being tired of jumping and shouting, he headed for the table, tugging me and Lena along. Having glanced around the table, I found the guy I needed, the one who stood out not only for his bulky body, but also for the air of importance when pouring crystal powder onto a plate from the bag, making it a line and passing it around. You could get the impression that he felt like a kind of “drug lord” who decided to treat all his friends this night. I decided to sit next to him. From the moment Lena and I began to dance, his admiring glance often lingered on my forms.

— You are so beautiful, — he said, studying me with his eyes at a closer distance. His muffled voice sounded drawling and slightly drunk.

— Thanks. — Wreathed in a naive smile, I put my hand on his naked soft shoulder.

— I have been watching you for a long time. Well, you know, I’m almost fifty years old, and I see things in people. — He looked “young” for his age, although he grew bald, and some twenty years ago he was definitely a handsome man, the one that girls were wild about, I suppose, in large quantities. — There is something special about you, — he gave his conclusion.

In response, “Anna the frivolous” looked at the “drug lord” with a naive look, while continuing to smile openly. Deep in my heart, I was not surprised at his words; clients were always saying that in order to get on the right side of me by emphasizing my importance.

— Do you want to sniff it up? He asked me, holding out the rolled bill. It should be said that it was not one dollar bill.

— I do not sniff. Let’s have a drink, — I suggested, and reached for a bottle of tequila with an unfamiliar name.

I did not count how much tequila I drank that night. New and new bottles in wooden boxes appeared on the table over and over again, and their content was poured into shot glasses. My companion began to tell me how rich he was, boasted his real estate, invited me to one of his luxurious restaurants and invited me to go to the south of the country to the Hilton Hotel, explaining that he had booked a suite in this fashionable hotel for a year in advance. Needless to say, for those cases when he suddenly gets in the mood to get away from it all for a day or two, taking with him another “anyone’s” young girl. The one that for a sniff of powder and unspeakable generosity will be squarable and really happy with the opportunity to get her share of luxury “as if for free”.

Peering at the man sitting next to me, I tried for a minute to imagine myself with him in the spacious bed of a chic room in a five-star hotel, on the, let’s say, fortieth floor with panoramic windows overlooking the outbound Red Sea. And I didn’t feel anything apart from disgust. I experienced absolutely opposite feeling, imagining this situation and putting Misha in place of the “drug lord”. A slight excitement ran through my body. But Misha could not afford such expenses, and it would be extremely difficult for him to take me to a restaurant where the waiters offer to start dinner with vintage exquisite wine. But I wanted to give my preference to the guy in the red T-shirt and the time spent with him, but not to the “drug lord” sitting next to me, who has a lot of pieces of paper soaked with indelible paint.

Life is a sheer absurdity, consisting of contradictions. Had I only thought about it, as a familiar voice responded, expressing his opinion:

“You can go ashore and leave everything; I think that your new boyfriend is not sleeping yet.”

“Well, yes, and then everything we have to do is to die together on the same day in a small apartment, having grown fat with cheap food from cheap joints, I smiled to him in my thoughts. — You’d better tell me how to get more money from this “drug lord”.

“He, when he gets sniffed, turns into a ‘drug lord-philosopher’. Say his favorite expression out loud”.

— As Aldington put it, “Life is a wonderful adventure, worthy for the sake of success and failure. — I quoted when our conversation with the “drug lord” reached the topic of life philosophy.

In response, he was surprised, so to speak, gasped, uttered one exclamation with an exclamation one word, “Oh …”, but emotionally. And then added:

— This is my favorite quotation. I said, you you’re special.

“You my are special”, it’s time to ask the appropriate tip.”

— And special girls are given special tips”, I hinted.

The “drug lord” reached for a small bag lying behind him, and pulled out some two hundred-shekel bills.

“People should get married to girls like you instead of ordering for entertainment,” he laughed, his laughter was like the laughter of a man who had cracked a sad joke affecting both of us. In response, “Anna the frivolous” just beamed up with a naive condescending smile, which I already was really fed up with.

The “hero of the day” showed his generosity this night, the “drug lord” supported him, and you shouldn’t forget about the hourly pay. I could not accurately calculate the amount of money earned, but the amount appeared to be significant. Actually, I can arrange a day off tomorrow and relax on the Sabbath at last.

“It’s long overdue” my “invisible friend” supported me.

The yacht returned to the pier, no one demanded to dance and entertain the guests. I got up from the table and went to that small cabin in the bow of the yacht, where Lena and I changed clothes not so long ago. Sitting on the bed, I took the phone out of my bag and smiled happily, reading a message from Misha left a couple of hours ago:

“Hello, baby, I’ve had a hard day today, it seems that you, too, since you haven’t written anything. Shall we have lunch together tomorrow?”

To have lunch? When a guy asks you out on a day date, it is serious. I wrote back to Misha that my day would be devoted to a good sleep, and the evening to him. And when asked how he would like to spend this evening, Misha suggested going to the beach outside the city, explaining that his boss’s car would be at our disposal on Shabbat.

My “invisible friend” was right; by midnight, Misha was still awake.

I threw the phone into my bag and returned to the deck, where the party was in full swing. The presence of new girls, wearing short beautiful dresses, with perfect makeup and impeccably styled shiny hair, added it more diversity. It was not difficult to guess who they were. Whores. And how did these men of Israel use to live without these beautiful young Slavic women? In particular, the Arabs, who managed to succeed and get rich, deftly bypassing the laws, much better than the current owners of the land — the Jews.

Lena called me to dance, but all the attention of the people present switched to the whores, only the “drug lord” was still sitting at the same place at the table and continued looking at me with his glassy eyes. And I looked at him and was smiling, irradiating fake fun.

The party ended with the dawn, the strongest people, who stayed on their feet until the morning turned out to be, of course, the “drug lord” (you bet, he had sniffed so much), “the hero of the day” (you bet, he had drunk so much miraculous water with MDMA, which causes a feeling of euphoria) and the whores (you bet, the magic power of money will make anyone a superman).

Lena and I were sitting on the bed in the cabin, counting the tips in order to share them equally.

— Listen, today was just a wonderful night, — she said happily and handed me a bundle of notes.

— You can say that again! Quite unexpectedly.

I took the money and, having rolled it up, carelessly threw it into my bag.

— Yes, it’s great to visit such a holiday, to take a yacht ride, — it seemed that there was no limit to her joy, and her stupidity went off the scale, reaching the highest point of idiocy. I do not want to say that Lena is essentially stupid, but naive beyond the years.

— Yeah, cool, but not as the service staff.

— No, I’m not the staff.

— And who are you? What have you been doing? You’ve been serving this, as you called him, “sheikh in shorts”, and all his friends. You pleased him, saying what a fabulously unreal man he was. Were you enjoying it yourself, or what?

— At least, I was trying, what else I could do. — She looked at me aggrievedly, lowered her head a little and slightly frowned her last fashion modeled eyebrows.

— Than don’t you say that it’s cool.

— And why are you so angry today? Where is the joy, emotions, the offer to get drunk or go to the “after”?

Feeling worn out, with the tired face I shrugged my shoulders. This movement has somehow begun to get into a habit lately.

— Wait. Have you met anyone? Fell in love? — Her eyes became round on what an amazing thought had come into her naive and young head.

— You are a one! Did you understand what you said? — I waved aside.

— Come on, sister, cough it up! — She triumphantly shone her wide and insanely beautiful smile. She had a delightful smile, and such a carefree, that if I were a man, I would completely forget about everything at that moment, waiting for her to smile like that again.

— I haven’t fallen in love with anyone. Yes, I met someone, but you know me, do you?

I got up and started putting on my dress.

— Of course, I know you, but I don’t recognize you today. And who is that guy? — Her curiosity overcame her.

— Well, he’s just a guy,” I answered evasively.

— Indeed. — Oh, well done, once again she smiled, and why I can’t do that.

— OK, just a handsome and sexy guy who, as usual, I will quickly get tired of, — I said coldly and started looking around for my shoes. I did not find them, although I looked in all the corners. I had to kneel down and look under the bed. There was no other place for them.

— I think you’ve got a message.

— Who could have thought of texting me at six in the morning? I cannot find my shoes.

One of the whores might have put them on and left?” — Said Lena laughing.

— It might have also happened, but she could have left her shoes as a sign of compassion, so that I won’t have to return barefoot, — I joked (the last walk barefoot gave me a lot of impressions, it was quite memorable) and noticed my shoes in a far corner under the bed. Apparently, they got there due to strong rocking. — You are smaller than me, can you get them? — Well, why, Lena is helpful, why can’t she do that.

I got up and reached for my bag, found the phone in it, I wanted to read the incoming message. “Anna the naive” — it goes without saying, she — hoped that the message would be from Misha. Lena climbed under the bed.

— Is that he, who wrote to you? Yes? — I heard her muffled voice from under the bed. One more naive who was not mistaken.

— How insightful you are today. — I bet a hundred dollars, she smiled beautifully once again.

Lena, crawled from under the bed, grunting and holding my shoes in her hands.

— And what did he write? — She leaned over me, trying to look into the phone screen.

— Just offered me a ride home from work.

— So, he’s Misha. And why did he write about the bar? She looked away from the phone and stared into my eyes.

— Because I had to tell him that I work in a bar. Let’s get dressed, — I decided to hurry my friend up.

— Than ask the driver to drop you off near a bar and meet this Misha there. You could have an unforgettable afterparty. She giggled sarcastically and began to dress up.

— I’m tired, I’ll meet him in the evening.

In, I really wanted to do exactly what Lena said. To land in Misha’s bed and, despite my fatigue, to have our own “party” with him. But what about “Anna the perfect girl”? She would definitely not approve of such behavior.

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