Lucky Numbers 1

Preface

The whole world, holding its breath, was waiting for my book to come out to light, but I was still scratching, lying on my bed.

By promising long time ago to all my friends to give to read I tied myself. But now the task became even more complicated – till the end of the world were only a few days left, so I could never publish my creation.

Nevertheless, having promptly leaped from the bed, I got in time to jump on a footboard of the last carriage of departing train and make a brief report on the lived life.

At beginning of this scripture the author successfully slips out from herself. Searching a problem outside, and not within, she observes the society and doesn’t find anything good in there - intersperse of politics, with a harsh thread, lays on the lines as well as, with a light satin-stitch, runs across a wave of gothic.

Action starts in London, transfers to Sicily, after to Rome, and back to London, but the key-voyage trough a row of the events of everyday – travel within the books, which author is reading.

The attempt of the heroine to help to her uncle in writing a book about lottery converts in absorbing but infinite process.

In a transition from situation to situation, in passing of love from one woman’s type to another in the head of the heroine occurs a constant monologue with herself, with which she straggles to unbind.

However, it’s interesting to watch how with years is changing awareness and surroundings.

P.S. In the second and third parts of the work the action darts in Europe, carries to Russia, latently to China, where the creator is ruthless samurai, who suddenly settles in India in a position of lotus.

Lucky Numbers

Dedicated to Dattatreya

My swamp

A story in which I play part marks time, here I open my eyes, and, strange to say, but around again appears the same reality.

I work in a box-office of the Her Majesty's Theatre in London for the Phantom of the Opera, whose music, by the way, does not tiring and

gladdens well the heart. The plot of production is identical to my life drama - I'm already for two years in love with a girl from the buffet, but her behaviour I don't understand at all.

My friend Anderson expressed himself on this account in next: Imagine that a person lives in front of the dead sea, and day after day sees the same picture of stableness, on example a log or an old trainer! Are you ready always to behold something immutable?

It's hard to suppose anything more frightful than that ooze! Anderson suggested me to leave this damn show business - the place where we with the girl work together and start to live a normal life, but I can't leave this job by myself, without being sacked. It would be somehow strange to do this without a signs showing on necessity of that, because here all I do is do nothing.

I look through an office-window as a staff gathering - She is not here yet! She should come back in a moment after the week's holiday in France. Till appearance of the phantom still left two hours.

Because of nothing to do I switch on an old conditioner, and almost light up a cigarette, but hear a clanking of keys - a general managers enters.

With a quick movement he throws first a sheets with a credit's bookings, after - a radio and a blue file from under the arm on the table, and seems like only after this discovers my body near to his.

He smells with his aquiline nose and his bald shiny skin on the skull wrinkles, activating command to turn the head, he starts:

- What are you doing here?

- Nothing, just sitting!

I calm him down with a smile.

His face drips with a sweat. When he straightens up his bald patch shines somewhere near the ceiling.

On him an invariable white articles - a jeans and a shirt, from the chest pocket of which sticks out a pack of Dunhill. In the course of this two years I watch him changing two pairs of Dr Martins boots, ones - crimson-red, anothers - black, which he wears only above the jeans. Today is the turn of the black boots and that's why they're shining.

He repeats my name, meditatively moving a keys along the ring. Around ten keys of the different forms - yes, yes - available some doors for opening, a corridors, a secrets for protection.

Uttering a yawn the manager stands himself in a pose of profound thinker - the elbow of the right hand on the table supports heaviness of the skull, the left hand leans on his rounded bum.

- Do you believe in God? - He asks unexpectedly. - Just tell me the truth!

He opens the file, takes the money out, counts them, with fans opening in the air, and writes down a total in the notebook. He glances into my cashier, gives a sigh. His face was red a second ago and now it's white.

At the present moment this complicated question doesn't find in my head any formulation of an interesting answer. Thought about the girl from the buffet comes to mind. The first what I think waking up it's her and she is all that I am thinking about, when like a ventilator switches on the thinking process.

- The one, who I want, she doesn't seems to be a goddess!

Claudius, that is the manager's name, relaxes at last and laughs heartily. He well informed about me being gay and he is the same.

- I had to stick around all day because of delivery, in such a case I questioned everyone in that theatre - they all believe in God! Imagine! O, people, they're such a fools.

- And you are nonbeliever?

- Of course not, who're you taking me for! I am an atheist!

- It's just to be an atheist is more boring than - a believer, that's why they choose, I think so. But why are you interested at all in this question? Confess, you believe in God, it's just not fashionable, that's why you are concealing?

Waving me off with a paper napkin, Claudius drowns it in his forehead.

- No, not at all, I don't believe in God, so don't accuse me. It just that I had to come here at seven in the morning to control the work of a repair team and thought why is that to me such a punishment? Actually just didn't sleep enough! I know, I work too much!

A bar-manager opens the door with his own set of keys, pushes in the made of down figure and drills a hole into the present with widened with help of lenses eyes.

- Damian!

- Claudius!

A tension hangs in the air, it's not exactly a pleasure for them to see each other.

- Damian, I completely forgot about you! Do you believe in God?

Claudius shouts out everyone of this words, wrinkling a skin around the nose. His face like a red pan.

- Today is the day of general inquisition. - I notify, nodding hello. - Nobody would get away. Everyone has to tell the truth and those who believe will go on fire!

The employees are noticed that Damian never looks in the eyes and doesn't smile, but here he glances at me and on his face appears a boyish smile.

- I didn't see him!

Not leaving a possibility to continue the conversation, he runs away, making it look like there a lot of work.

- Damian, Damian - working class, mediocrity! - Claudius concludes for some reason, wiping a sweat from the forehead.

The arrogance towards Damian affects me, for sure Claudius hasn't got a good opinion about anyone, but himself - the loved one.

- How many things I need to do - I think I will die in this theatre! - He utters, probably waiting a words of compassion.

- If you wish to die in the theatre, more effective is to do it on the stage! - I suggest.

Claudius straightens his`back and looks in my eyes with entreat, but he himself just turned my train of thought.

- The manager dies and everyone understands how difficult his life is. Is it like that?

А broken suspicious smile appears on his face, and the forehead cuts on three parts, when he puts out the words as if reading a paragraph in the newspaper.

- You'll get a loud applause!

- But I can't agree with that! Claudius feels the egg-shaped crown, probably asking to answer - is everything inside on its places? A condensation of moisture on the surface of his body certificates continuation of an active work of the internal engine.

I picture how She'll step inside the theatre now and for some hours we'll be closed in one building.

An opposite thoughts coming into the head almost at the same time, exchanging each other without any notice. One - is to go out from here, ones and for all, finish with all those faces, just push the manager aside and open a door to freedom, and another - always to be in this theatre, London is mine, I'm a part of the music!

The radio wakes up, flashes with yellow light and hoarsely asks for Claudius.

- Are you receiving?

Claudius seizes the radio, situates it in front of the lips and switches on a line.

- Receiving. I'm in the box-office. And Maya's torturing me!

My phone vibrates in the pocket with three short bursts, I touch it with my hand. I'll read later the message. I look at the wrist-watch, take out a gum, and, accurately unsealing, put a piece in my mouth. Possibly She also stopped for a chewing gum at a shop on Piccadilly, and now passes by the fountain with horses - she is never late, carefully lifting one leg after another, transferring her body closer with every step. The influence of this body is enormous. She calls herself ordinary and laughs, asking why do I love her, as she is the same as everyone? This question for now has no answer. Attempted, by her request, stop loving her I tried a different methods, but got stuck even more and almost resigned. On the same way is a body of an insect, which doesn't swim, lies in the water and only sometimes crawls with it's feet.

Claudius, with a white plastic wire from the phone to the ear, dials and stands, waiting without an answer.

I don't remember what the figures on my watch has told me, they are like a hieroglyphs those meaning doesn't sustain in the head.

I lift the hand, carefully study the watch face, comprehend something, but while the hand goes down, I'm forgetting the meaning again.

At last Claudius prepares to go - he makes an exhalation, sticks the file under the arm and goes to the door with a large steps, where suddenly holds up, turns, pointing at me with the index finger.

- You are a horrible woman!

- Should I take it for a compliment?

His eyes search the room, but can't find what to add, and the door slams behind him.

Through a glass in front of me, I unmistakably discern the picture drawn for me by Anderson - a dead sea, a sun aiming to illuminate another lands, a group of tourists nearing my window.

A boy gazes at me persistently through the round glasses, as if trying to recognize, at the time while a pair of his parents scrutinizing a detailed diagram of seats and prices, bitterly smiling, the tickets are quite expensive. When they talk, singing the words, there no doubt left - the Chinese.

An event manager opens the door with his pointed nose, lets in two white dogs and closes the door behing him, without saying hello or good by.

At the moment those dogs are loyal to me, but some employees were already bitten by them in the legs, and there is no one to complain to.

One, by the look, more friendlier, with a jump, taking my armchair, another - lies on a vacant space on the floor, getting ready for inevitable boredom, and exactly this looks like the one who bites.

I recall about the message.

18:01

Ma cherie, don't worry

I'm here, came through

another door. Would u

come 2day to Heaven?

But remember our

conditions - don't

even dream about me,

I want to be just a

friends. Xxx

In the end the tourists agree on a balcony.

- That's the best view! - I congratulate, taking a payment and nodding, glad that a little queue assembles, which doesn't give me the time on immersion in only just read unpleasant lines.

During one hour and fifteen minutes I sold thirty seven tickets and read her text three times, observing an endlessy entering people by the tickets bought in advance.

At beginning I pay attention to the crowd but after losing the interest - the public flows with lively stream even without my participation. The dogs, unlike me, are waiting for something real, they spring up every time feeling the owner in the vestibule. Me too waiting, just out of habit, the end of the working day.

I try to remember a previous messages, which were send from France, proceeding from them it seemed we became more close, I shouldn't delate them so quickly!

The pointed-nosed manager enters, with two wrap-ups of foil in his hands, the dogs from the both sides of his legs are sit like in circus. With no rush the animal-trainer opens one wrap and puts it on the floor on the corner - the friendly one, with athletic jogging, runs to enjoy a chopped sausage, similar performance plays in another end of the room for another pet. For dogs it almost doesn't take time to dispose of lunch. Manager picks up both pieces of foil, crumples them, throws into the bin and leaves.

Yes, he thought of them! Joseline will possibly as well come down soon to feed me to the full.

In the course of the further five minutes the number of sold out tickets riches up to forty five, and in another six minutes - to forty six.

The less friendly one, not imagining with what to entertain herself, lies on the floor, depicting dead - her long muzzle and the bared teeth frighten with plausibility of death. The second one - energetically scratches a red floor covering and in a free time switches on to a catching the tail. Characters are formed the types of occupation.

On the floor is discovered an almost full bottle of Scotch whiskey with a number stuck to its neck. Looks like it was confiscated from a provident spectator. I pay a further interest to the dusty shelves and find a Hilton bottle- opener and a Swiss knife, on tickets either.

I wouldn't mind a sip of the whiskey, but the dogs don't like drunk and quickly will set me on fire. I count the money, put them in a red file and sit in the chair. What should I do? Where is no time left to decide - 7.30., the performance has started - she'll come down for a break in a minute and my work is finish for tonight. I take my bag and coat, the dogs walk me to the office doors.

The theatre is full, an Angel of Music pours out his first chord. An original, a monster with horrible face, an evil character appears here now by the order of love.

A promising light comes from the candelabras, a black shadow creeps over the red carpet - in a twinkling of the eye the colour arrangement changes, transforming a cloudy evening in the bright morning. Same happens on a stage owing to efforts of a huge team, which works together like a well wind-up mechanism, but here is just like that - She is nearing with a steps, shining.

- Hello, angel's face! So, you are here? Why didn't you answer my message?

Would I ever be able to hear her French without trembling? Some times she switches on in her voice some super-extra-pleasant timbres.

- Hi, Joseline, I thought you are busy at the buffet! And I myself had to work a lot!

Involuntary I fix my eyes to her blooming cheeks - the blood circulation increases.

She is in a black uniform - a jacket, a t-shirt and a trousers, but seems that the clothes are not simple, as over and over I want to touch them.

- You look guilty! How many tickets you sold if you didn't even had time to reply?

- Fifty.

I can no longer fight my desire - kiss in the cheek and embrace my

inquisitoress.

- Why did you call me angel's face?

It is impossible to organize myself when I see her neck, made from a bronze substance, so near. She brought me a new name from France, it means she was thinking about me!

- Because you pretend to be an angel, but you are not!

She points at me her index finger and moves it