Dinner party.
The address was so unexpected that the knife that had fallen out of his hand jingled against the plate, and when Rick carefully lifted his head, he was involuntarily dumbfounded: That piercingly familiar look of strange white eyes he had not seen in years. The smooth-shaven man, about his age, was leaning slightly on the mop, and smiling with the tired smile of a quiet homesteader. The dude didn't look too good: his face was wrinkled, his kidney-sick eyelids were puffy, his cheekbones were droopy, there was a thick, wispy gray hair on his temples, and a drop of blood on his dried lips. He was clearly a beaten man, but he had certainly not lost his spirits. Enjoying the confused look of the writer who had settled on the chair, the janitor grinned modestly:
- What, Castle, weren't you expecting to see me at all?
With a convulsive and loud hiccup, as if from a sudden suffocation, Rick slowly stood up and, still doubting the acuity of his vision, took an uncertain step towards him, slowly spreading his arms apart:
- Greg? Is that you? Jesus! Gregory Ardsley, is it t-t-that's you? But how? But how? They said you were...- Castle's blue eyes would have fallen out of their sockets, but Gregory stepped toward him, kicking the mop bucket aside with his foot, with a happy, sincere smile. The men hugged each other tightly; patting each other on the shoulders and back, they stomped around for a while, like bear-cubs arguing over a bowl of honey, making inarticulate but enthusiastic interjections. Then they pulled away, eye to eye, as if they could not believe their unexpected encounter, and embraced again; then, holding Castle's palm with both hands, Gregory smiled sadly:
- Yes, Rick, in spite of a terrible, violent past, that's really me, but we'll talk about that later, if you don't mind.
- Not at all,- Castle nodded kindly, and Greg, pulling off his cap, "flashed" a vast bald spot with a brace of liquid, graying hair. He hesitated, picked up the bucket and mop, and wandered to the right corner of the counter.
- I won't be long! - Ardsley warned, hiding behind an inconspicuous back room door, and an emotional Rick returned to his seat.
"To think, Gregory Ardsley!" - Castle involuntarily put his hands to his face, paying attention to the round lamp on the very counter: its soft yellowish glow reminded him of the moon for some reason. - The most inconspicuous, the most humble and the most mysterious guy in our company! He could write poems and dance, draw well and give skilful advice in class; according to the late Axel Davenport, he had been killed in a car accident some years before and had been resurrected! And how! Greg may not look like much, but he seems to have become a super-hotelier! There, what a neat little restaurant he has, albeit with a wild vintage in the interior! And Greg's hostess is just like him! Strict, neat and businesslike!"
Castle waved hello to the woman, but she only snorted dismissively and turned away. It was unclear why she suddenly disliked a charming man like him, but that they had not met before, Castle would have sworn on a plate of burnt barbecue. But who does the hostess remind him of after all? Hoo-hoo! I can't remember! Rick dipped his fingertips into his hair in thought, then scratched the back of his head, massaged his forehead and cheekbones, and so he didn't even notice how the lights dimmed in the hall and Greg appeared. He had already cleaned himself up, having changed into a monochrome beige sweater and slacks. The sparse hair on the top of Ardsley's head was carefully styled, and he was wearing the lingering herbaceous scent of expensive cologne. With a chuckle at the sight of Castle, frozen as a statue, Gregory tossed a sneer over his shoulder:
- Teresa! What are you doing there? Hurry up and set the table!
- If the dinner consists solely of whisky, n-not so much of it! - Castle pretended to be horrified and gave a friendly smile to the prim hostess. Let her not hold a grudge against him! - I have a forty-five-hour drive back up the highway and a night's poker game ahead of me! I've got to be in shape from here on out! You don't think the patrolmen will make an exception for me, do you?
- For a famous author like you, sure. Or I'll send you in a helicopter, or put you in a sleeping bag under the stars! - Greg grinned, taking an invisible speck out of the corner of his eye. - Then I'll have wine, too, out of solidarity! Are you still a fan of red, Castle?
- Yes," Rick leaned back in his chair, waving his fork like a conductor's wand, "I've tasted many things over the years, but some things are always the same. You know, Greg, my passion for long and colorful narratives about the meaning of life, but now that we've met, philosophy can be put aside for later.
- I see, - Ardsley clasped his hands in front of him and grinned enigmatically, - by the way, today we have mostly Russian cuisine. How do you like it?
- Mysterious and unique, like the country itself. The more delicious, inventive and unusual, the better! - Rick nodded. The hint that an empty stomach disgusts long talk was obvious, because Greg, just like Castle, loved to eat delicious and abundant food.
Silently, Teresa brought a silver tray, which seemed obscenely huge against the background of her narrow shoulders. She carefully placed it on the corner of the table and, with her small, childlike hands, deftly arranged the appetizer: turkey and stewed vegetables, sausage, cheese, and fish platters, piles of pickled gherkins and cherry tomatoes in saucers, appetizing meat tarts, and a neat rose of lemon slices in a porcelain bowl. Finally, Teresa placed a wicker vase of fruit and a dusty, irregularly shaped bottle with a waxed neck on the table. Castle immediately grasped the wine. After admiring the unusual vessel, he squinted at the unknown label.
- It's from a private collection, - anticipating the obvious question, Greg nodded with a look of connoisseur, - I have an exclusive contract for their supply!
- Hey, I hope it didn't involve twisting your arms and hanging you from a grapevine! But what an unusual bottle! And the type of cork must be just as unique, and I won't even mention the high-end contents! You certainly made my evening!-Castle was twirling the bottle back and forth from the terrible lack of information. - But tell me, my old friend, on what continent and in what country do these unusual cork oaks and sparse vine grow? Such spectacular descriptions would come in handy for my novel, in which I could play out a bloody drama either at the roots of that tree or in the wilds of the vineyard! And we could also do a comedy with a detective bias! - Castle smiled slyly and turned the label to himself again. It was as if he was not going to let the wine out of his hands.
- Oh, you're super clueer and super creative, aren't you? I ought to check you out! - Ardsley grinned enigmatically as he saw Castle's eyes close up in anticipation of the excitement. - After we've had a glass of wine, I can promise you a surprise that'll make you forget yourself and leave you on your feet. I know, Rick, what a gambler you are!
- I love surprises, games, and the drive that comes with shenanigans, because without that there is not and will not be me! It's like jumping into an abyss with a rubber band! - Castle looked for a corkscrew with his eyes and raised his eyebrows with a hint of it. - First, the clumsy big man shoves you in the back with the hangman's impudence, and with a twitch of the heart, closing your eyes in indescribable fear, you fly somewhere down, shouting something furiously. Like a Niagara whirlpool, your blood is rushing inside you, rushing to your temples, your heart is going wild and adrenaline is overflowing every cell of your body and threatens to burst out. You are overwhelmed with indescribable and enthusiastic emotions, and when your carcass on a rubber band flies back, you just begin to be filled with pride. And why not, once you feel the solid ground under your feet, you get ready to jump again! And then more! And more, and more! So it was before my first wedding, and on the eve of Alexis' birth, and just as suddenly a creative crisis hit me, which was replaced by an unprecedented emotional lift as soon as I plunged into the most interesting events for me! It was as if I had begun to live again!
- Yes, I had something like that once,- said Ardsley with an inexplicable frown. He handed Castle the corkscrew and reached for the pushed a translucent slice into his mouth and chewed it lazily, squinting. - How to open wine, remember?
- Who? Me? I'm a real corking genius! - Rick wiped the bottle clean with a snow-white napkin, then took it carefully by the neck and deftly scraped off the sealing wax with the back of his knife. He confidently screwed the corkscrew in, tilted the bottle slightly toward himself and sideways, gave a grunt for greater effect, and, making an exhausted grimace with inexpressible emotion, he pulled. There was a slight pop. Putting aside the pinkish wine cork, Castle deftly poured the ruby moisture, this genuine delight of any gourmet, not just himself. Carefully holding the thin glass with trembling fingers, Rick carefully shook the wine and slowly, meticulously, like a real sommelier, with only the edges of his lips he sipped the drink, in awe of the unique, tantalizing smell of tart wine fumes.
- How was it? - politely asked Gregory, seeing how Castle licked his lips and shone brighter than a flame. He raised his index finger, and looking dreamily at the ceiling, said with admiration:
- M-m-m, I'm going to guess! M-n-m... Weightless chocolate shavings, refreshing tartness, light dryness, and a great blend! It's impossible not to revel in this wine! - Castle complemented the flute and lifted it in front of him, glancing appreciatively at Greg. - To an unexpected, exciting and desirable meeting!
- To the meeting! Good to see you, my friend! Come on, come on!
The men drank almost simultaneously, and then, as if on an invisible signal, Theresa appeared at the table. The smell of smoky, juicy beef was so irresistible, that Castle, barely waiting for Teresa to leave, worked his jaws with pleasure. In a moment he had lost all his refined manners, munching amusedly, mooing unintelligibly, approvingly, and nodding contentedly in gratitude to his hospitable hosts, before he suddenly stopped with a piece of meat at his mouth. He lowered his fork thoughtfully and hummed indefinitely, even resentfully.
- You what? - Greg mumbled with a full mouth. He shifted his gray eyebrows to the bridge of his nose, trying hard to grasp the essence of his friend's dissatisfaction. - Was it a bit rough, or a bit too salty? No way! The barbecue was all my doing!
- Nope, - Rick shook his head, his gaze narrowed in question, - I was, and still am, embarrassed by the microscopic size of our company. At a reunion of friends who once shared with you not only a piece of bread while camping, but also girls and bunks on campus, for some reason you can't help but expect a rowdy, raucous bachelor party, with a hail of champagne corks, naked swimming, with fireworks, music, or any other, - Castle chuckled mischievously, - adult fun.
- Fun? - Gregory laughed, concentratedly picking his teeth with a nail. - Yes, you'll have fun, and as for the others... I've lost touch with them for a long time, but those four empty spaces are a symbol of their invisible presence. And by the way...
Ardsley put down his knife and stared vacantly at his plate, as if he wanted to read some secret writing under the layer of beef.
- Do you know...- Greg began, stretching the words, then hesitated and turned away, struggling to get his voice out: - That Axel Davenport is dead?
- Yes,- said Castle, putting down his fork. With a genuine sadness on his face, he clasped his hands in front of him and bowed his head mournfully. - Such a death is impossible not to notice! The brightest guy, the smartest and most successful of the six of us, and he died in a most unfortunate way. He was found face down in a puddle near his own house early in the morning. There was only two fingers of water, but there was so much alcohol in Axel's blood that the cause of death was literally at the surface. No, of course, the investigation literally dug up the ground, but... Davenport had left the corporate party the night before, well after midnight and on his own two feet, and from that moment, until his death, no one had seen him. We questioned everyone we could, and only the local cabbies were uncertain about seeing Axel on his arm with a lady, but these facts were neither confirmed nor disproved. I wish I had been there, or I would have worked with the dark forces to see if they were involved, but the investigation was pretty quickly stymied by the iron alibis of anyone who might have had any motive whatsoever. In the end, Axel's death was ruled an accident. Not even the title helped the poor man.
- I see! A ridiculous and very foolish death indeed! - Ardsley bowed his head and, after a little silence, looked at him sideways: "You are a quick-witted fellow, aren't you? You are more than just a writer, aren't you?
- Pfft! And a police consultant all in one! - Rick pointedly remarked. He held his hands to his belly and kept his thumbs together and apart, emphasizing his uniqueness. - Day and night, thanks only to my efforts, the crime rate in the Big Apple has gone down, and the clearance rate has gone up! - and Castle stretched out both fingers in front of him, evidently counting on his friend's full support, but Airdsley got away with just a strange grin.
- Braggart! - Greg said curtly, slowly wetting his throat. - It's been a long time and you're still the same! More wine?
Castle nodded approvingly and hurried to fill the goblets. In time the bottle emptied unnoticed, and Teresa brought a couple more. Then she replaced the empty plates with full ones, put on soft, pleasant music, but the men, as if they did not notice all this, took the care for granted. Their evening stretched on: long and short at the same time, funny and sad, and memories flowed like a river. Like silly boys, the men chattered loudly, shouted and mocked each other, laughed and giggled inappropriately. At a fortunate coincidence of thought, they slapped their palms over pathetic turkey scraps and pointed their fingers at each other, hinting at the delusion. Their memories, they encompassed everything at once: the memorable trips to the lakes and their vacation jobs together; the creaky benches with nails sticking out in the men's locker room and the rubber balls of paint in the girls' beds; the "suddenly" burst straps and the crimson of Elsa Knight's cheeks in shame; the dazzling white butt and silly yelps of a hovering Hol Melbourne; the creepy orange wig of historian Mrs. Simmons; and the suede jacket of mathematician Conrad Gibbs, worn almost to a crisp. At the end, they went over each and every one of their once inseparable six, and Gregory, who had shed an involuntary tear, complained with drunken grief once more about the dissolution of their friendship. He ignored Castle's empty glass, swigged a good measure of wine, and then a tipsy Rick vowed to do his best to reunite with the others as soon as possible. Ardsley responded by gratefully putting his hand to his heart and wiping his greasy lips with a heavy, lingering sigh. He turned, with a loud hiccup, to the counter, from behind which stood Theresa's head and shoulders, seemingly bent over a computer.
- Honey, how's it going? Do you feel sleepy yet? - Rick, do you remember the night before graduation when we went to Jiminy's?
- When there were six of us and three times as many girls? We've never been so free to choose our partners.
- Yes, Ricky, that's right on point, and that's why I have this for you! - Greg leaned on the edge of the table with an enigmatic look and suddenly let a rolled up paper tick into Castle. Rick tried to block, but the motion was crooked and awkward. Bouncing off his cool forehead, the "bird" landed right in the under-eaten salad. - See, Teresa's a longtime fan of yours, and she's always wanted a white dance, with you,- Greg grinned with a crooked, sleepy smile and tapped his hand lightly on the table, anticipating objections. - Don't worry, we're not preparing for a duel. Theresa and I have a fairly free, even relationship without any empty, unnecessary jealousy, and a modest lesson in feminine coquetry will do no harm to anyone. Rather, it will even do some good.
- Hey, really? In ten years since university, my take-off weight has already grown by several pounds, not counting what I ate today, which will not even allow me to get my ass off the chair, - Castle tried to protest, but seeing Greg's finger wiggling reproachfully, he stood up first from the table and, staggering a little, wandered to the bar.
- Do you dance, ma'am? - Castle smiled boldly, but Teresa, not raising her head, only held her hands above the keyboard.
- Do you have to? - she asked briefly, and then clicked the buttons with double speed.
- And why not?! - Castle involuntarily admired the smoothness of her movements. Her little hands looked like doves hovering over the keys. - I would consider a dance as an appreciation from a grateful reader, and being ungrateful is not my thing! And, since men more often invite women than women invite men, we could have spent the rest of this wonderful evening with you, whispering about something of our own, secret, cosmic; sharing our creative plans...
Having blurted out the whole phrase in one breath, Castle stepped back a little and politely bowed his head, but Teresa did not even look at him. With the tenacity of a woodpecker she continued to pound the buttons, and frankly, the hostess's behavior seemed to Castle a little strange, if not mysterious. Usually his fans were the first to flank him, shoving his own books under his nose, but here Teresa was an avid admirer (according to Greg!), but somehow she reacted to him like a professor to a student about to be expelled. Rick looked hopefully at Ardsley, who was watching them both with a toothpick in his mouth and smirking understandingly. Seeing a genuinely disappointed Rick with helplessly lowered hands, Greg struggled out from the table and made his way unsteadily to the counter.
- Hey! What's up, Castle? Is there no one to choose? - he stopped to Rick's right and beckoned to Teresa, but she grunted and turned sideways toward the men with unwavering shakes of her curls. Immediately a bottle of whiskey and a glass appeared in her hands, and Teresa poured into it and swung it dashingly, man-to-man. When she turned leisurely toward the men, her face was like a doll's: her lips pressed tightly together, her gaze fixed and devoid of any emotion at all.
- It seems that there is no one, and, frankly, I do not understand it at all, - said Castle, frankly perplexed. - Have I inadvertently disrupted your quiet family evening, or, holding the seal of Cain's misfortune behind my back, just stupidly forgot to mention it?
- All right, forget it! - Gregory waved his hand intricately and smiled broadly into Castle's sad face. - I'm the one who suffers the most when it comes to women's affairs, but today Teresa, surpassing herself, had been driving everybody to a frenzy since morning: wrong here, wrong there, wrong hands sewn in the wrong place. The nagging seemed to be innumerable, and saving both my own and other people's nerves, I let the servants go until Monday, and dined myself. I even had to mop the floor myself!
- You're lucky, aren't you? - As if he did not know where to put his hands, Castle put them in his trouser pockets and bowed his head low, biting his lips tensely. - And I, by the way, got it from fate, too.
- Don't be sour, Ricky! - Greg came close and gave Castle a friendly pat on the back of his shoulder. - No matter what fate is, it's always yours and yours alone! It has room for both sadness and joy, sincere delusions and unprecedented discoveries, strong friendship or outright hostility, modest happiness, and, of course, love. And every man is the creator of his own destiny! I, for example, have been knocked on my back by life more than once, but I have not forgotten how to be surprised and amazed! Are you ready for something like that, Castle?
- Ready for almost anything! - Rick agreed with a look of relief. Frankly, he did not want to dance with his partner against her will, but to get a surprise - with the greatest pleasure!
Slightly staggered from the drink, Castle looked at the clock face and feigned amazement:
- Wow! It's practically midnight!
- It's just the beginning of the longest night, which you won't regret later," Gregory waved intricately to Theresa, still cradling the glass in her hands, then picked up Castle's elbow and pulled him along: "Come on, let's go.
- I have to make room,- Castle rounded his eyes "frightened," and with a tilt of his head pointed to the door of the back room. - Isn't that where they do it?
- The restroom is at the entrance to the hall, as you enter, immediately to the right.
When Castle returned to the table, there was nothing else on it, except a pair of tall cones of colored napkins, a salt and pepper shaker, and a plate of grapes, apples, and tangerines. The host himself, having pulled off his sweater and wearing just a T-shirt, was lounging carelessly on a chair, putting his leg over his leg. When Castle sat down in his seat, Greg's face lit up with a wide victorious smile. He seemed to be anticipating something Rick had no idea about.
- Hey, what happened to the hors d'oeuvres? - Rick threw up his hands in "grief," and sprawled back in his chair, looking deliberately offended and displeased, but barely able to keep a smile on his face. - If the local scroungers no longer need me, then the holy sadness that involuntarily seized me, forced me to activate the mobile teleport or resort to the charms of the Tooth Fairy herself!
Of course, Castle was lying: after such a sumptuous dinner in his stomach would not fit a pea, and the unexpected and exciting meeting with Eardsley somehow, at least, smoothed the bitterness of communication with the unfriendly and indifferent Theresa. However, Castle did not lose hope to establish a trusting contact with her. How good it is, however, to revolve among women all your life!
Rick folded his arms on his chest and looked greedily at the table. I wonder what kind of paper pyramids Greg had made?
- Well? - played with his eyebrows, Castle. - Is there to be a sequel?
- Eeek! - Greg burped loudly without any embarrassment. - That's the plan!
- Plan "A" or "B"? - Rick yawned loudly, fighting the encroaching drowsiness. A little longer and he'd be right under the table.
- Nope, plan C! - Ardsley smilingly threw out his index fingers and clicked his tongue. - Keep it simple, Castle, and just use your head!
- Cribble-crabble-boom! - Rick closed his eyes dreamily. - There's a manuscript of a new, detective novel!
- Lazybones! - Gregory carelessly bit into a large amber grape, splashing sticky sweetness on his thin, muscular wrist and his mysterious napkin. - Come on, one more time!
- Crabble-boom-cribble! - Rick thrust out of himself with a sluggish tongue, a little annoyed at his drunken head. Somehow in the groggy state of his head the wishes that came to mind were not at all what he would have wished for. - So there's the latest, flexible, tube-shaped iPhone hidden in there!
- I don't give a damn about iPhones! - indignant at his friend's oddities, Greg made an awkward move with his hand, almost brushing off the glass pepper shaker. - I have an ancient Motorola myself, and nothing! Well, is there anything else you'd like to say?
- Uh... -Castle put his leg up, pressed his palms together against his right shoulder, and looked dreamily at the ceiling. - Then it would be a sample of Martian cherry perfume!
- Wow! I've never heard anything more stupid in my life! - Greg shook his head in frustration. - All right, Rick, don't be silly! I'll help you out out of old friendship. Under that napkin is the fullest meaning of my life!
- Oh, you want to be a hotel oligarch, and there's a bill of sale for a hotel empire? - Castle wouldn't let made a few haphazard passes over the top of the paper, and licked his lips, licking his lips: - Maybe it's alcohol after all?
Rick ran his fingers over the napkin in a pinch, but looked up at Greg first. He was sprawled out in his chair, staring straight ahead of him without a smile. His hands were now resting on his chest, his fingers tapping lightly on his forearms, his face graying, and his upper lip curved oddly and ugly, revealing his naturally uneven teeth. He looked like a cornered rat, ready to pounce, but that vision lasted only a fraction of a second. Greg again glowed with genuine affection, and evidently enjoying Castle's impatient, enthusiastic look, spun his index finger in a spiral and urged Rick into action. Slowly pulling on the paper tip, he was involuntarily dazed.
- Oh, my goodness! Wow, a surprise from the Cocktail Fairy! - Castle opened his mouth so wide that it seemed that in a moment his jaw would rattle on the floor. - What a beauty! Is this such a novelty among the shots?
- That's my invention, Ricky,- Greg grinned, - not so epochal, but still very important: the cocktail 'For the best friend.