Doing Lunch

by Doing Lunch Free(Lit)

  “It is all right, she is a good person. She even gave me the secret to McDonald’s secret sauce for Big Mac’s.” Hearing that comment from his uncle, Mikhail the spy realized that the secrets he was getting were not staying secrets. It never occurred to him that he was not suppose to share any secrets with anyone in the first place although this secret hardly had any national security implications.

  Getting into the car, Mikhail used his cellular telephone to communicate with the lead motorcycle officer to get the show on the road. Moving down city streets as they headed toward the San Diego Freeway, Orlina was in awe of the activity she saw around the airport. The two young boys thrilled at the sight of the drivers yelling at each other and began laughing themselves silly when the car came to a red light and the man driving the car next to them had red and blue hair. Mikhail noticed looking into the rear view mirror, having become accustomed to it having lived in Los Angeles for so long, he understood why the children laughed at the sight.

  “Think they’re ready for Hollywood Boulevard, hon’?"

  “Oh Mike, for heaven’s sake, they’re just kids.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. We shouldn’t get them interested in something they can’t get back in Russia.”

  The light turned green and the motorcade continued to the San Diego freeway where it proceeded until it reached the Santa Monica Freeway interchange. Making the connection, the motorcade began heading west where everyone in the luxury sedan began fighting the sun. Quickly, Allison broke out a box of sunglasses, which she passed out. The kids were ecstatic with their new toy.

  “A Los Angeles necessity,” advised Mikhail, and the new arrivals could not agree with him more. As the car rolled down the off white pavement of the freeway heading toward the horizon, Allison made the mistake of teaching the boys the Disney theme song. It’s a lesson she would hear long into the night.

  The early morning found Orlina sitting with Allison on the balcony enjoying breakfast overlooking the Pacific. The warm weather of the late morning that had greeted the early weekend beach goers was absolutely perfect as far as Orlina was concerned. Looking over the edge of the balcony, Orlina’s eyes searched the bodies that stretched the shoreline and most of the ones she saw were awesome. She could never remember having the figure of most of the girls that were on the beach below her. Looking back at Allison and then down at her plate which had three sausages, three pieces of bacon and three pancakes with melted butter and syrup loaded on them to the hilt, she found herself losing her appetite. Her face showed it.

  “What’s wrong, Orlina?”

  The Russian visitor remained silent as she slipped back into her chair and then gently slid the plate away from her. Taking another glance at the plate of food that Allison went out of her way to prepare, Orlina closed her eyes as if trying to avoid it.

  “Orlina, what’s wrong?” repeated Allison.

  The mother of two remained silent, still feeling insecure about trusting Allison. The young co-ed was beginning to get the idea of just what they meant when she heard the term “cold war.”

  “You’re going to have to trust me, Orlina. If you don’t talk to me, how can I know what’s wrong?”

  The woman remained silent, her eyes opened as she looked straight at Allison, never lowering her eyes where she might make eye contact with the plate. Her lips remained motionless.

  “Orlina, talk to me. If I try to guess what’s bothering you and I act in a way responding to what I’m guessing and I guess wrong, I might hurt your feelings. Please talk to me…tell me what’s bothering you?”

  “This bother me!” she exclaimed as she grabbed a part of her extended midsection. The face of the Russian visitor revealed a trace of anger at her condition. Quickly Allison put it all together and remembered Orlina’s glance down at the beach.

  “Your weight bothers you?”

  “Yes, it is how you say here in America, I am a pig.”

  “Where did you ever hear that?”

  “I learned from American movies.”

  “What American movies?”

  “Porky's.”

  “Great! Just great!” shouted Allison, feeling very disgruntled about the affect that American culture was having in other nations. “With great classics like West Side Story, South Pacific, My Fair Lady, we’re exporting Porky's.”

  “Porky's bad?”

  “Believe me, there’s better.” Allison walked over to Orlina and standing behind the chair where the guest sat, she placed her hands on Orlina’s shoulders. Allison began to slowly message them in the hopes that it might comfort her.

  “You want to lose the weight, Orlina?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Moving in front of the chair and extending her hand, Orlina grabbed Allison’s hand and was led into the living room where there was a large twenty-seven inch screen, something that she marveled at. Sitting Orlina down in the plush circular couch, Allison grabbed the remote. Scanning through the channels, she noticed that her guest was captivated as the different shows passed her by.

  “You have television in Russia?”

  “Yes, we have television, but not this much.”

  Allison broke a smug smile, realizing that Orlina was referring to the number of channels.

  “It’s called cable.”

  “Cable good?”

  “When you could get it.” Allison continued to point the remote until she came to the health network where there was an exercise show in progress. Allison began following along in an attempt to demonstrate while Orlina merely watched, feeling very awkward in the situation.

  “Come on.” Reluctantly, Orlina rose from the couch where she was getting too comfortable and it was one of the reasons that she was now watching the health network. Watching Allison doing leg lifts, Orlina attempted to duplicate the effort only to find out that she could only raise her legs about half the distance. Frustration set in quickly and became noticeable to Allison just as quickly.

  “Quitters never win. Just give it your best effort.” Allison continued to exercise along with the instructor and his two shapely female instructors. While never really being able to fully raise either leg, Orlina left Allison with the impression that she was just happy doing it.

  “That’s it.” The words of encouragement brought a smile to Orlina’s face and the legs kept kicking. Suddenly the door opened and Mikhail and Alexi followed the two boys in, each with an ice cream sundae in their hands. Orlina, seeing the confections, turned away from her children in a test of will power. Even in Russia they were aware of proper diet, it was just that no one could afford to be on one.

  Alexi, finding his wife’s behavior odd since she was always very warm and when it came to the children, well, she was downright protective.

  “Orlina, why are you turning from the children?”

  “Ice cream.” His wife’s comment did nothing to straighten out the picture for the premier, who found nothing wrong with ice cream. As a matter of fact, he himself had just devoured a three-scoop banana split while they were down at Venice Beach. It had been a long time since he had a good banana split since Russia cut down on the aid it was giving Cuba.

  “I am trying to lose weight. I must watch what I eat.” It was a good thing that Alexi was Russian and not American because had he been he would have realized that when his wife changed the cooking for her diet, she would change everyone’s diet.

  “Hon’, my dad called while we were down watching the muscle guys trying to figure out how many twenty-five pound weights went into a hundred. He said that Jordan wants to talk to me Monday about that property I was interested in. I told him we’d fly back Sunday. Okay?”

  “What about the kids, we’re suppose to take them to Disneyland on Monday?”

  “We’ll go tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow? Tomorrow’s Saturday!”

  “No problem.” Looking at her boyfriend, Allison started to think that she may have gotten herself involved with just another guy who was nothing more that
a big bag of hot air.

  The tropical weather was a delight for Orlina who still had the sub-zero temperatures of Moscow on her mind. Seeing all the people that moved about in shorts and sensing just how comfortable they were, she knew she would be too ashamed to walk around like that. She knew that with this diet that Allison had given her and if she pushed herself to do the exercises, well maybe she might just want to be seen in shorts. Maybe if Alexi could get this free market thing off the ground they could get a Jenny Craig in Moscow.

  Walking around Honolulu that afternoon with Allison had been fun since her guide lived there and knew the tourist traps. The only drawback to the afternoon was the fact that Mitchev and Demitri kept singingM-i-c-k-e-y M-o-u-s-e . What a souvenir to bring back to Russia. The kids were just driving her nuts with it, and the security guards were about to defect to a place that nobody had ever heard of the fantasy character. That in and of itself was a problem since the security people were American so where would they go?

  The kids loved Hawaii and they had not even been in the water yet. The plane ride between Maui and Oahu was fun for the youngsters just looking down at the islands below them. Orlina was certain that the kids would be very angry with Russia when they found out just how many islands their government gave up when they grew older and found out about the sale of Alaska. Now that was a lot of islands.

  Arriving back at the condominium, Orlina found her husband, the premier of a large country, sitting disgruntled and sipping on a beer. Mikhail and Mirnov were almost oblivious to the entrance of their relatives and girlfriend because they were too devoted to a game of backgammon. Alexi always wore his emotions on his sleeve but this was Hawaii, people walked around in short sleeves while they basked under a bright sun amidst warm tropical temperatures. What was going on here? Orlina decided to break the ice by approaching him and placing a kiss on his cheek before saying anything.

  “Alexi, what is wrong?”

  “What is wrong is that I missed a one foot putt. A one-foot putt, I can’t believe it. How far is one foot, Orlina?” Rising from his chair and taking another sip, Alexi stretched out his arms to what he believed was one foot. “What is it, that long?”

  “Yes, I suppose. But Alexi, what could this thing called a one-foot putt mean? What are you so upset about it?”

  “Orlina, if I would have made it, made the one foot putt, I would have broken a hundred for the first time I played golf.”

  “Wait a minute here, Alexi, the only reason that you got that close was because of that bank you got off the rake. Hell, if that rake wasn’t there you’d have been twenty yards off the green instead of four inches from the cup.”

  “Did I put it there? Answer me, did I put the rake there?”

  Caught for an answer, Mikhail just stared at his uncle until his father interjected. “He’s got a point there. No different than banging one off a tree.”

  “Ah Alexi, you played a pretty good game there for your first time.” Alexi smiled proudly at the acknowledgement that Mikhail had tossed his way. It was time that the premier got some gratification since Mikhail repeatedly denied Alexi’s plea to return with him to Moscow. It had gotten to the point that Mikhail started cursing out the fact that there were eighteen holes of golf on the course; his ears would be aching by the end of the round. He was glad that he had chosen the course he had since it overlooked the Pacific Ocean. Every plea that Alexi made for his return to Moscow allowed him to respond, “I could never get this view in Russia.” A man who just last week had played thirty-six holes in a single day was thinking this.

  “You really like this golf, don’t you, Alexi?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “Maybe we could put in a putting green in Red Square. Should do it though before Christmas.” Not realizing that his nephew was kidding him, Alexi played the straight man.

  “That would make the Russian people mad.”

  “Not as mad if they got a thirteen on a hole.” The young businessman’s comment shot right over his uncle’s head and was now on its way toward outer space.

  Wanting to share the accolade with Orlina, Alexi turned toward her and suddenly realized that she had two bags near her feet while there were two more on the table.

  “What do you have, my little babushka?” Knowing that her husband wanted to know what was in the bag, Orlina reached into one and removed a scarf, still packaged.

  “I bought enough so that you could have butter and bread and eggs for as long as you want.”

  “We can?”

  “No, not a we, Alexi. I can no longer eat those things.”

  “Who says?”

  “Jay Brazansky.”

  “Jay Brazansky! Who is this Jay Brazansky?”

  When Orlina hesitated, Allison realized that it was because she was stuck for an answer.

  “Jay is a physical fitness guru,” interjected Allison.

  “Fanatic! He’s a damn fanatic, Allison. Ever since you started with that show I have discovered that there are more than two thousand ways to prepare salad,” commented Mikhail.

  “What is this guru thing, Mikhail?”

  “It’s...well it’s like an expert. We have all of these gurus here in America, money gurus, fitness gurus, you name it and we have a guru for it.”

  Turning back toward his wife, Alexi looked at her with curiosity. The strange look in his eyes now had Orlina curious about what her husband was thinking.

  “What is it, Alexi?”

  “Why are you exercising?”

  “I want to become a size five.”

  Rising from his chair and moving toward her, he knew her well enough to know that in this kind of situation Orlina liked it when they were physically close. Moving next to her, he touched her hand.

  “It is okay, Orlina, you do not need to bring scarves with flowers on them back to Russia for food. You do not need to go from a size thirteen to a size five. We could afford these things. I am premier.”

  When Orlina’s eyes grew wide, the premier knew he said something wrong and he didn’t know what it was. He always hated it when Orlina turned herself into the Russian bear with her anger. He knew he was fortunate that they had a good relationship, but he was aware of the things that Orlina was sensitive to. Now if he could only remember what he said that might have provoked her, he felt he would have a chance to remedy the situation.

  “I don’t want to be a size thirteen and my friends like the flowers.” She quickly moved away as a tear began to fall and disappeared down a corridor.

  “I am so sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry to us, Alexi, but I think Orlina might be deciding not to be all that she can be,” advised Allison.

  “Not if she wants to go from a size thirteen to a size five she doesn’t,” quipped Mikhail, much to the chagrin of Allison, who quickly used her expression to convey just what she was thinking.

  “Just kidding, hon."

  “Go talk to her, Alexi.” Not quite sure of himself, he looked over at Mikhail, hoping to get a second opinion. “Listen to her, Alexi, she’s a love guru.” The premier’s nephew’s words told him what he must do and he walked down the same corridor in search of Orlina.

  CHAPTER 4

  PRIVATIZATION

  The cold Russian winters that the Debenov’s returned to made America itself look that much more appealing. In the few days since their return, Alexi returned to his memories about the number of times that the boys had complained about not being able to wear their shorts outside. They were destroying his concentration with their singing. If he heardM-i-c-k-e-y M-o-u-s-e one more time while he was practicing his putting in the living room, he was certain that he would end up with a broken putter.

  He thought about the putter again while he glanced out into the snowy streets of Moscow from the warmth of his office. Moving toward the closet, he entered and removed his putter from his bag along with several orange golf balls, presents given to him by his nephew. Removing an electric ball return from a shelf, he set it up and
began practicing his stroke. When Mikhail had given him the golf equipment, he told him that he was giving him the orange balls instead of white in case he decided to play in the snow. Much easier to find unless of course Moscow gets eight more inches in the next two days as predicted.

  After a few putts, all off the mark, Alexi found himself feeling guilty. Realizing that he took the position of premier to try to help the Russian people although he knew he was being set up to take the fall if and when a free market economy failed, he knew that there was not any socially redeeming values about practicing his putting in a warm office while the people outside froze. Putting everything back into the closet, he requested Volitov to enter. Within moments the aide de camp presented himself.

  “Sit down, Volitov.” The aide sat as his superior made his way around the desk to his seat.

  “Volitov, do you think there is any chance that we can change Russia?”

  “How, sir?”

  “Do you think we could have a free market economy, you know, where people own the businesses, run things for themselves?” The smirk that rose to Volitov’s lips as if they were loaded with yeast said it all.

  “You think then that maybe I am in over my head?”

  “Very much so. Do you really have any idea, Mister Premier, how large Russia is?”

  Alexi had to think about the question. He knew the actual size geographically but he sensed that Volitov meant something else.

  “Square miles?”

  “I was thinking in terms of the misery index.”

  Volitov’s response struck home. Alexi had taken the position to help his people yet he was first coming to terms with the fact that there were many more people who were suffering than he thought.

  “Tell me, Volitov, what kind of spy was my nephew?’

  “Do you really want to know?”

  “Yes, I asked the question.”

  “Inept. A real maladroit.”

  “Was he?”

  “Yes.”

  “Give me an idea.”