When Martha opened the door, the light hit her eyes: the loft was sparkling with it, and their chic chandelier was shining brighter than bright. If Martha, a party girl herself, had stumbled into a motley crowd in the middle of the living room, with glasses and chatter, she would have understood. And wouldn't even have refused to participate, but the loft was empty.
"Hmm!" - Miss Rogers' manicured eyebrows drew together perplexedly: never before had Rick started a feast without participating in it himself. An energetic figure like him, the organizer of all sorts of shows and pranks should always be on top of things, but... something had clearly gone wrong.
"Yeah, it's like my boy's been switched!" - was a phrase that had been on her tongue for a long time, and the apparent change in her son's mood had occurred just after Alexis' graduation, Martha had firmly grasped it. As if fixated on one thing in particular, Richard was assiduously proving, with all his casualness, that he was still all right. He was still making jokes about his mother and her old new love. He and Alexis would still run away together somewhere out of town, coming back refreshed and content with themselves and life, but... Where did all these bad habits come from? The frequent visits to the office by the window, the lethargic staring into the screen of the computer and the static fingers on the keyboard? Then there's the inordinate amount of sweets, and the drastic reduction in witticisms, and the perpetual off-the-cuff answers. With all the accompanying jokes, too.
...Martha kicked off her dapper pumps by the wall, hung her purse on a hook, and after a steady, critical glance in the mirror, floated weightlessly through the loft. Her path led to her son's office, where the lights were also on, and Rick himself was seated weightily at his desk, with a bottle of whiskey in his right hand and a glass in his left. The laptop was open, and the air in the room was thick with alcoholic fumes.
- Hypnotising the glass again, my darling? - Martha asked, looking at her son with a soft, sympathetic irony.
- Just thoughtfully digesting the bouquet... - Castle took a solid sip and not without regret set the whisky aside. - The distiller was not the worst wine maker, but far from the Canadians...
- Maybe that year had been a bad harvest! - Martha stepped confidently to the other side of the table. There's something wrong with you! Why, then, do you trouble my heart? Why bother Alexis unnecessarily, eh? Don't you want to spare her (and me!) unnecessary worry? And from going to the drugstore, too! And I'm afraid your unproductive pastime could be detrimental to your creativity and intellect. Or has it already?
- What's the panic, Mother? Tell her laziness dulls the brain," Rick muttered as he put down his laptop, "and I kind of need a party right away.
- Not without that, son, of course not without that! In the meantime, alas, Alexis and I will be watching your sour face every day, waiting for my cheerful son and equally caring father to return to himself! You may be at a standstill, Richard, and your return to the station has been delayed, but that's not the end of life, is it? By the way, how's Beckett doing? I hear she's sort of back in the mainstream!
- Yeah, that's right," Rick turned his head away, strenuously hiding his eyes from Martha. - And once again, she's shoved into her own world, which has and will have no place for... me.
Castle's head dropped gently to his chest, but Martha's light hand immediately ruffled his hair.
- So move without a backward glance, my darling! Go on, and only go on! I may not be much of a role model myself, but I'm perfectly capable of redirecting the vector of your mood!
With these words, Miss Rogers kissed her son on the top of his head and resolutely pulled the folded notebook out from under his arm.
- Change the scenery, Richard! - She gently ordered, pushing it to the corner of the desk. - At least you've always been good at it. And there's a good reason for that. I've just been whispered that a charity ball is being held at a very exclusive venue in one day. Just the place for you! Enjoy the company of Broadway celestials, but don't get all sour and abstruse, as you usually do. You can't complain about your tongue, you can't complain about your manners, which is why it's a good idea to play the charitable game that's inside you and won't go anywhere. Because not every wealthy gentleman has a heart as light and kind as yours, Richard, and it may well be that a donation of a few hundred dollars will put you in a major mood. And then the vibes will kick in! And stop beating yourself up, my darling. You're not gonna see me there, so for the best, go for it.
And when Castle lifted his head, Martha winked at him mischievously:
- Come on, Richard! Don't be a bully and make Mama happy!
And moving on tiptoe, Miss Rogers silently withdrew. Rick gave her a long, sorrowful look and reluctantly reached for the phone: somewhere in its electronic depths Cynthia's number was still stored.
- This is indescribable, Castle! - Cynthia Gale, a slender, attractive lady in her early thirties, whipped her thick, dark-blond mop of hair carelessly, and the scent of her heady, grassy-sandal perfume became even more intense. - So many distinguished faces in one place, all at once! New acquaintances, old friends, vast opportunities... There must be a whole wagonload of impressions!
"And a small wagon too... Because I'm already impressed!" - Trying not to be distracted from the road, Castle had already appreciated the weightless poppy chiffon on the slender thigh of his companion, and the even, chocolate tan of her skin, but aloud said something else:
- As I understood it from first hand," he said firmly, referring to Martha, "we are in for a real vanity fair, but I have always been respectful of other people's work...
But he was immediately and impatiently interrupted:
- Is it because you're an author yourself?
Rick nodded in agreement and then hiccupped when Gail's clinging hand rested on his groin.
- That's the "authoring" I owe you the most for! - Cynthia grinned enigmatically, moving her fingers expertly. - But it's probably not very flattering to hear from a woman who's ready to come at your cry that she doesn't care about your books at all! - Gail played her hand so inventively that Rick hiccuped, his breath went up in a blink of an icy sweat. And even jumped in one place, causing the car to swerve.
- And if the pampering wasn't delayed, then arguing the merits of the author would be pointless! - Castle's trousers were definitely getting tight, but there was something about a way to relieve the tension right here and now. Well, if only because Cynthia hadn't gone with him for "it" at all. He, Castle, was just tired of listening to the well-dressed public, seeing him without a constant companion, once again washing his bones.
- Well, you don't look like yourself tonight! - Gail reluctantly withdrew her hand and grabbed the tip of her nose with a disgruntled expression. - Did you, by any chance, switch gears?
Castle could barely manage a pitying smile that looked more like a pained grimace.
- You're the first one to think that about me! - he muttered. - Isn't my reputation on the subject enough?
- But I can see your misery! All alone and proud! - Cynthia snapped her fingers. - Even your phone call was through my head! What, you think I'm stupid?
- I... Yeah... No... Sorry! - Castle hastened to make his excuses. - See, lately I just can not get anything right... And the right thoughts do not fill my head, and the right words do not fit into the sheet... Only the whiskey is the luckiest... I feel like a total failure... or a loser...
- She sure got you good, didn't she? Nicki Heath," Cynthia said casually, adjusting her shoulder strap with a glance at Castle, who shrugged neutrally.
- The rift had been brewing for so long, it had to happen at some point... Boom and bang! So I'm firmly moving on... And that's it, we're here...
The car pulled up in front of the restaurant and a smashing kid in a gray uniform rushed over to them. Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one on duty on the porch.
- Shit! The press again! - Covering his arm from the blinding flashes, Rick hooked Cynthia under the arm. She bowed her head low, and with stony faces, gritting their teeth furiously, they finally made it the twenty unhappy yards. Where at the glass polished door they exhaled with relief and noise.
- There you go, it's not so easy for the "pen sharks" to tear us apart!
Cynthia responded with a light handshake, her face marked with a relaxed, understanding smile: The foyer was also crowded, but these were people of a different, more glorious and revered circle. And Castle was one of them: so gingerly he bowed right and left. As if there was no sadness at all: he was joking, joking, making unimaginable faces and making incomprehensible gestures, giving air kisses.
- I'll be right back! - Cynthia let go of him and glided to the large mirror that hung from the wall in the right wing of the reception hall, magnetically attracting the ladies. They were all dressed up and pomaded, adjusting and smoothening themselves, and critically assessing themselves. And Cynthia, one of the quickest, was no exception. In a few minutes, with no flaws in her appearance, Gail crept up behind Castle, who was snuggling noisily with an imposing man in a tuxedo and gold-rimmed glasses, and when she stepped back she almost swept her companion off her feet.
- Ouch! Ouch! You're an elephant! Don't you ever look back?
- Oh, sorry! And it's not "elephant", it's "black rhino"! Or rather, "white whale"! - He made a pitying grimace, but the end of the sentence came out with a determination.
- I am sure they will! I know what they're talking about! - Gail deftly slipped under his slightly outstretched arms and buried herself in his broad chest with a happy smile. There was nothing left for Rick to do but draw Cynthia to him.
Their gazes met, involuntarily: the questioning, passionate one for her, and the businesslike, impenetrable one for him.
- So?" Castle raised an eyebrow questioningly.
Gail's grip on his neck returned.
- The people outside the door were very indecent," Cynthia's lips pressed lightly against the writer's earlobe, causing Rick to shiver as a familiar playful chill ran down his spine, "because, despite the freedom of the press, no one gave them the right to poke around in their dirty laundry. And it turned out that idle speculation condoned obscenity.
And reached out for another kiss.
- Hmm... we've been over this a hundred times," Rick made a polite attempt to pull away, but Cynthia just kept clinging to him, "and that's why she was stupid enough to give any interviews.
And Castle wasn't kidding; after his breakup with Beckett, following Alexis' graduation, his eloquence had been cut off. Now his social circle was limited to his family, and he sent the others, who were particularly obtrusive, away. And he hoped that in time he would be gradually forgotten by the bohemians. If not for his mother, with her irrelevant and irrepressible initiative. When you have an unrelenting ache inside you, any party can make you feel a little disgusted and give you liver cramps, but... Martha, how can you say no to her? No, no, and no, and now I have to smile through the strength of a good in general, non-scandalous and non-spiteful Cynthia. She's not said a word about the loyalty oaths either, but this ball is... not even an outlet, it's just a way to get away. It was clear who or what.
Cynthia persisted, and Castle pulled the invitation cards out of his side pocket. Leading the lady to the doorway of the hall, he dashingly showed the ushers his right of entry, and a stout man in a livery immediately led them straight and slightly to the right of the entrance. The seat they were looking for, where the wine was already sparkling in the glasses and the hors d'oeuvres were stagnant, was in the front row away from the stage. Cynthia immediately smiled at the pleasant memory.
- Never been here since the "change of scenery," Castle! - Gail took a cautious sip of her wine and smacked her lips against its rich, sweet flavor. - Remember that rendezvous we had?
"You bet! It was only like five years ago!" - and Castle gave a cheery smile: how could anyone forget that! Champagne on the brotherhood... and you inside her... the light creaking of furniture, and a mad flight of hearts... Bodies pressed into each other and glued by the agony of love... Burning in the veins and boiling blood, knocking out breath, and everything loses its, even the smallest sense. And even the fear that they could be accidentally caught gave the intimacy a special spice. And what a spectacular exit from the "process" it had been!
"Nice freakin' out! And a lot of food for thought!" - and Castle sighed sorrowfully as he heard a muted response:
- So why didn't we take our chance, Castle, eh? Well, then, why couldn't we, eh? After all, you and I had and do have a lot in common, had a clear understanding of each other, and we had nothing to share then...
- Just, by the way, the day before the meeting with Cody, - the nerve endings on his cheekbone felt her unremitting gaze, and Castle involuntarily turned his head: Cynthia was looking at him with regret and sadness. Her fingers gracefully encircled the fragile stem of the glass, the wine in it was slightly less than half gone, and her breath was quivering and uneven.
- Yes..." Cynthia blinked strangely, and a thin strand of it fell out unruly, disguising the neat, thin eyebrows and the thin, well-defined nose. - He was more primitive than a wine cork and straighter than a wand, but he had a way of wooing.
Imagining the unsmooth and absent-minded "wonder", and also half a head taller than him, Castle smiled modestly.
- Nice kid, I'll grant you, but Cody's sheep and horses are cuter than you, and he cuddles with them more often than not. Or am I wrong?
Cynthia took a sip of wine and rubbed a sip with her tongue to sustain her pause.
- You want a revelation, Castle? But then what's in it for you? Why bring up the past? No, let it be in the usual style: one of your books, Castle, as a board book, and its plot devices are so good for the memory that it's refreshing and invigorating. But we are different, Castle, we are women, and that is why sometimes it is the exact opposite: literally after two paragraphs I fall into a deep and sound sleep. Naturally, I have my reasons... Probably the same as you...
- Dancing keeps me awake too! And I'm not an old man at that! - And Castle smiled amiably at Gail, mixing everything on his plate for some reason.
- Then health to us! And to hell with the sadness! - A drop of moisture appeared on the tips of Cynthia's eyelashes, but to the crystal clinking of the glasses, Rick insisted that it was all just an imagination.
And the evening in a festive atmosphere proceeded as usual: there were solo numbers, pantomimes, parodies, jokes, and Castle had already lost count, pushing paper change into conveniently placed boxes. As the degree of alcohol in him, knocking down the nervous clamp, steadily increased, Rick finally felt a kind of freedom within him. From heavy thoughts, from the pain in his heart and the burden of difficult circumstances, and laughter, jokes and banter again constituted his self. And Castle did not find it shameful or demeaning to give in to his companion, but...
"And everything looks like fun, but there's still something wrong!" - Rick put his fork away, put a fragrant napkin to his mouth and leaned back in his chair. When you're full and drunk and your companion is obviously tired, it's no fun to look around at a tipsy crowd, but...
His gaze caught suddenly on something. A face. So pretty and familiar and irresistible to the ears. So bloodcurdling and maddening, with a determined, stern and irresistible look in her hazel-green eyes. Driven to madness, with no consciousness of choice. The one and only, but for some reason not next to him, but somewhere out there, in another part of the hall. Where a proper view is obstructed by other people's "carcasses", and the right table, as if by chance, is obscured. And this woman is also staring at him steadily, until, answering, apparently to her companion, she has to move a little sideways.
"Oh, shit! Oh, shit!" as if removing a cobweb, Castle quickly ran his palm over his eyes, then his fists came into play. - Shit! Shit! Shit! No way!"
Cynthia's bewildered exclamation hung in the air, but Castle had already jumped up from his seat. He was swaying slightly to the bravura marches of the band, and with his first step towards 'there', Rick noticed not without bitterness as the lady he was staring at immediately fluttered from her seat. Gracefully giving her companion a hand, she bowed her head in a polite bow, and Castle momentarily imagined her charming smile. Turning to this fleshy "macho", who was definitely no match for her...
"Dude's got manners!" - jealousy of a guy whose appearance spoke of solidity and confidence swept over Castle. He would be! A duchess tuxedo, an imposing muscularity, a fashionable haircut, a handsome face... And a smile that seemed charming at first glance, but was too "plastic". And what an imitation of social manners!
Meanwhile, the beau led his lady onto the dance floor and Castle could only see the red stain of her dress.
"But I couldn't be wrong, I couldn't!" - Rick kept repeating to himself, getting closer to the object of his interest: rounding the tables, throwing someone a short "Hello!", hardly avoiding collisions with the overloaded waiters, until he stood a few steps away from the couple - they skillfully spun in a relaxed waltz. And the initial mild excitement, which had grown stronger, turned Castle into a pillar of salt. He was out of breath with excitement, his blood rushing wildly and hitting his temples...
- I... I... I couldn't go wrong..." his hands clenched into fists until they hurt. - Is that you? ...Beckett, is that you?
The pair took a few turns, and Kate, astonished as much as Castle, clapped her palms to her chest and stopped her partner. Politely she bowed her head apologetically and, slowing her step, headed for her ex-partner.
- Ka-asl? What are you doing here? - The distance between them had shortened enough for Rick to get a good look at Kate in every detail. Except he couldn't touch her. Or maybe he just didn't dare.
He exhaled somehow, though. Through sheer force and with great difficulty:
- Actually, I could ask the same about you! And you don't look so bad yourself! - And he added to himself: "And I'm just bemoaning my lack of inspiration!"
Swallowing forcefully, Castle noticed Beckett's slender fingers twirling a curl. Really, nothing had changed in her gaze.
- Good enough for a delinquent cop just returned to duty," Beckett was nonchalant and nonchalant herself. - You could tell I almost didn't get bored. Yeah, and the guys are right there.
- So what, you just jumped right into a new case? Did you finally get to the X-files by cutting off someone evil while encroaching on secret knowledge?" asked Rick with such lively interest that Kate immediately felt like punching him with her purse. And preferably between the legs.
- I was just trying to work, Castle," Beckett folded her arms across her chest and squared her shoulders proudly. - Even though I don't get coffee in bed.
Castle grinned crookedly and craned his neck to look for HER dude, but the fleshy one had disappeared somewhere.
- So where's your Mr. Save the puppies? - Rick made a contemptuous grimace, but Kate only raised a recognizable eyebrow.
- I'm a free woman, Castle, and I don't just go to restaurants with writers or firemen. I swear you didn't know that either.
- My knowledge, as well as my foresight, has kept me in the mainstream for years and...
- And you're telling me you're finally happy? - Beckett frowned inexplicably, but didn't look away. Castle even thought she saw a twinkle of regret in Kate's eyes.
- Yes!" he smiled wryly. - I've never felt as good as I did today! Here I am, with friends, with a woman I adore, and who, in turn, cares for me!
- I wish you not to be deceived in your hopes! - Beckett habitually bit her lip and discreetly took a breath. - I hope you know what you're doing!
- I'm Ca..." Rick cocked his head proudly, but Beckett had already turned away. She walked with determination, not to her own table, but to the far corner of the hall, where the toilets and rooms with billiards and other amusements were located. And the further away she got, the more she was obscured by her guests, the more Castle's neck stretched. And Rick realised it was about time they had a chat. But not in front of everyone, of course.