***
Andrei was older than me (as we appeared to the world) and shorter. He was blond, tanned and not unattractive. He liked to work out and was in pretty good shape for a man in his early 40s. He had done very well for himself in whatever sort of business he was doing, and we had a lot of similar interests. We both liked the champagne lifestyle, women, yachts and art. He came to rely on me to weed out the poor pieces and find what his collection needed. We didn’t always agree on art but he started to trust my judgement more and more, once other experts had told him he had made a smart purchase.
The friendship had gained me entrance to all the best places and invitations to the most glamorous parties and I came to know Andrei very well over the next few years. We enjoyed each other’s company and I believed we had become such good friends because he didn’t perceive me as competition. I looked younger, but wasn’t as rich as he was – and I didn’t chase after the same women. I really didn’t like those thin, sullen girls. We met often for parties and events, so I wasn’t surprised to receive another one of his invitations for the 2011 Film Festival.
Andrei had come by some invitations to one of the midnight screenings and I was looking forward to rubbing shoulders with the glitterati, but I was not pleased when he told me he had rekindled his romance with his former girlfriend, Tatiana. I had first met her a few years previously when I came to look at Andrei’s art collection in his house in St Paul and she’d struck me as being spoilt and moody. She had been absent for the past season and I couldn’t understand why, of all of the 15 or so girlfriends that had come and gone since I’d known him, she would be worth a second chance.
Now, Andrei had set up a double date with Tatiana and one of her friends. I had met this girl, Olga, briefly two seasons before on Andrei’s yacht. She wasn’t a great beauty, but she was pretty enough and she enjoyed drinking champagne. The only thing that bothered me was that her English was very limited and conversation would be difficult.
Andrei wanted us to meet at the Majestic Hotel for a meal before the screening, a total waste of his money as both the girls and I pushed our food around our plates and barely ate a thing. I was happy that we had a table on the terrace built out over the sea, so I could jettison chunks of the swordfish back to his fish brethren and casually pour some wine down between the wooden boards. Tatiana was in a very good mood as Andrei had bought her a fantastic emerald cut diamond ring that I estimated to be about five carats. I’d raised my eyebrows and looked at Andrei when she showed it off.
‘The two of you got engaged?’ I asked him and he didn’t look too happy. Later he told me it was his mother’s incessant nagging that had forced his hand.
‘“Andrei, you are 42. When am I going to have some grandchildren?”’ he mimicked.
‘Tatiana wants children?’ I asked, surprised. I didn’t think she’d be the type to let anything spoil her figure.
‘Part of the pre-nup. If we get divorced without children she gets nothing. So I think there will be children.’
‘And do you want them?’ I asked.
‘Yes, I think so. It’s time for me to settle down and think about my legacy.’ He didn’t sound convinced.
‘Do you love her?’ I asked him.
‘She’s a nice girl, a good Russian girl and I think she will be a good mother. She likes children,’ he explained. I didn’t like Tatiana, but I suddenly felt very jealous of Andrei.
When it was time for the premiere we made the short walk to the theatre on foot. Olga was already quite drunk and had to steady herself on my arm; the ridiculous heels she was wearing didn’t make things any better. I was happy to use tall Olga as a shield for photographers. They wouldn’t want photographs of us, specifically, but with digital cameras and previews there was always a risk of someone noticing me, or rather not noticing me, in the background of their photos. A celebrity had just turned up so the lenses where pointed elsewhere and we went in unnoticed.
Twenty minutes into the film, Olga fell asleep. With the film being in English she would have problems following the plot. I could always slip her a sleeping tablet later, as I was sure she would want to come back and stay the night with me. I had asked George to stock up on Cristal in anticipation.
After the film, I invited everyone to my yacht. I knew Andrei and Tatiana would make their excuses after a while and leave me alone with Olga. I preferred my women to have a bit more meat on them but she was blonde and had a nice face so she would do for adult entertainment and food.
Roberto was there to pick us up in the tender.
‘Roberto. You work for Cameron?’ asked Olga, surprised.
‘Yes.’ Roberto shot me an apologetic look. ‘Erm, Olga and I were at French classes together.’
Roberto was clumsy and awkward for the rest of the night. I knew he wasn’t comfortable with what was going to happen to Olga. He might even have fancied her, but I wasn’t going to let the little brat spoil my dinner. He should have known by now that cinemas make me beyond hungry.
Soon Andrei and Tatiana left and I sent Roberto to bed.
‘Does it have to be her?’ he asked me, looking distressed
I rattled the tube of sleeping tablets in his face. ‘She’s here now and, trust me, she won’t feel a thing. But first I’ll give her a tour of the yacht, ending in my bedroom,’ I said with a wink.
Roberto gave me a last pleading look and then slunk below decks.
In spite of its difficult start, my life had become pretty sweet and comfortable.
Language in the Blood Page 8