Past imperfect - страница 7

Just think! A vacation! A real vacation with travel, and not for work. No more meetings that made her brain burn and required long stretches of sleep to recover. No more business trips where she has to talk so much that she is silent for days afterwards.

She will relax and enjoy walks around the ancient city, exploring monuments and eating real pizza. On Lera's left shoulder, the devil danced and provocatively tugged her earlobe, urging her to perform mischief.

In her excess of emotions, she danced toward the piano and played Rachmaninoff's Italian Polka fluently, missed the key in the second phrase, giggled and tapped on the keys, "So fate knocks at the door."

The upcoming trip was even more pleasant because it was, honestly, personally paid for with money that Lera had honestly earned. Here you are, all of you who discouraged me from going on a linguistic university, she thought! You can earn money on "chat," as her relatives disparagingly called her profession! For renting a great apartment where Lera is dancing now, and for the vacation.

The coveted ticket didn't want to fit entirely into the tiny purse, showing Lera its tongue, forcing the girl to smile more widely. Lera winks back at it. In the last few minutes before leaving, she went through a list of things she might need during the trip.

However, it's a stupid idea! Lera knew that as soon as she drove far enough away, it would be too late to return, she would definitely remember something absolutely essential, especially left in the most visible place and forgotten in her apartment.

A loud bell rang in Lera's ear and the girl almost lost her balance while dancing. Looking through the peephole, she recognized Kostya, Irina Konstantinovna's driver. Kostya, who was always gloomy and serious, stood on the stairwell, with his hands in his pockets, looking at the floor. Lera quickly clicked the lock and smiled at the guy joyfully. Nothing could upset her that morning. Except for the damn pills.

At the sight of Lera, who seemed radiant, Kostya even smiled a little, but quickly returned to his usual cloudy expression. Glancing around the hallway, he reached for Lera’s suitcase.

"Valeria Sergeevna, I’ll help. Are you ready?" he asked softly.

Lera suddenly realized that she had never heard his voice before, and it sounded as if Kostya himself could hardly remember how to use it.

“Of course! And just call me Lera, okay?” Lera picked up her down jacket and purse and gave Kostya a bright smile again.

“Okay” Kostya muttered a little more softly and, with one hand, easily picked up the suitcase that Lera was pushing into the hallway with considerable effort.

Lera flew down the stairs as if on wings. Everything seemed beautiful to her. Kostya was not disgustingly gloomy, but mysteriously stern. It was not beasty cold outside, but Pushkin's creaking frost. And they were not going to get stuck in traffic on their way to the airport, but beginning a magical journey. Overall, Lera felt as though she was barely touching the ground with her stiletto boots.

“Lera, get in. I'll put your suitcase in the boot.”

Lera nodded, so that her red curls flew up and whipped her face. She laughed happily and galloped to Irina Konstantinovna's expensive SUV's passenger door, but hesitated. It was difficult for her to climb such a height without outside help. Kostya was forced to push her up with a light laugh. The SUV drove smoothly, and Lera pressed her nose against the window.