Dan looked perplexed. He was standing in front of me frozen, and his face was like a pale wax mask.
Fortunately, the waiter came up to us at once. He skilfully took the pieces of the glass away and quickly cleaned the table. He approached and left almost unnoticed.
– Are you OK, dear? Have you cut your hands? – At that moment I was definitely bewildered too, not less than my husband was.
– Everything is ok, I’m ok, my love, and no problem, – he answered and ordered another glass of champagne.
– There is a tradition in Russia, you know, dear? On the wedding day just-married after drinking the first glasses of champagne used to break them into the pieces. It is supposed to be done for future happiness and prosperity of their marriage. And your glass of champagne broke itself, Danny. For luck, – I tried to diffuse the situation.
The waiter appeared again and instead of the glass of champagne for Dan he brought a new bottle of the same first-rate French champagne.
– This is a surprise and present. It’s on the house. Relax and enjoy it, guys. Cheers! – The waiter was very polite to us.
We thanked him and with great pleasure tasted the excellent high-quality champagne. Slowly sipping it and in a very good mood we continued our conversation about this or that.
– Vika, look at the next table, please. – Dan whispered in a hurry. – Can you see three ladies there?
I turned my head right to see them.
– I’m sure all three of them are very wealthy. – Dan continued. – Look at their faked faces. They’ve definitely had a lot of face plastic surgeries, and not just one at a time. No doubts! Look at their lips, noses, cheeks and at their necks. Their faces are sickening, but the ladies consider themselves fine-looking and perfect.
– Why are you so sure, dear?
– Oh, Vika. I know American women, especially Californian. They all are the same. They all need but money and try to get it from their husbands, boyfriends or parents. They successfully inherit millions of dollars and then spend it with no trouble for clothing, new houses and cars and, of course, for re-making their faces, breasts and asses. There are so many such wealthy “beauties” here, in California, especially in Beverly Hills. They are all fake, inside and outside and you’ll never know their real age. I’m so happy to be married to you, my dear Russian girl!
– Thank you, Dan.
The ladies actually fascinated my husband. He couldn’t stop speaking about them with great inspiration.
I wondered why.
– It’s hard for them to chew because of the plastic surgery. You’ll see in a few minutes: they will run to the restroom to spit the food out of the mouth. I know this; I have been observing them since we came here. You’ll see, Vika.
– Hmm. You are saying it with the expertise, like a plastic surgeon, Dan. – I looked at the ladies once more and that time with feminine curiosity.
Three ladies of indefinite age, too good-looking and too much-taking-care-of-themselves, at least from the first sight; they enjoyed the delicious food, red wine and company of each other. Too much mascara, long faked nails, but good hairstyle. It is fake hair, isn’t? What can you say, the “professor of women studies?” – I joked.
– I love you! – Dan answered and kissed me
– Love you too, dear.
– The ladies look too bony and skinny to be healthy, – Dan supposed.
– But look, they are dressed very expensively, evidently comfortably, and fashionably; haute couture, – I whispered to my husband. – They remind me synthetic Christmas trees, well-decorated with hand-crafted gold and silver toys.
– You are funny, sweetie. – Dan laughed. – Look at the endless quantity of gold and platinum rings with huge shining diamonds on their fingers. Probably, they were married three or four times already, and now they are wearing all the rings from the ex-husbands. Ha-ha-ha.
– You never know, – I replied. – I like their stylish bracelets. Too heavy for their thin wrists, but gorgeous.
– Although they remind me of beautiful golden Christmas garlands, – I added.
One by one the ladies, like ghosts, stood up from the comfortable chairs and went to the restroom. Their faces were absolutely cold, and you could mistakenly think that it was their swelling up cheeks, but for the strict critics and observers, like my husband, it was obvious: the ladies’ cheeks were so big that moment because the food was kept in the mouths for a while, similar to hamsters, who do it naturally.
– Can you see? What did I tell you? – Dan was so proud of himself.
Pretty soon one by one, happy and relaxed ladies, without any food behind the cheeks, came back to the table. They joked, laughed and noisily discussed something. The waiter brought a new bottle of red wine for them and then suggested dessert menu for us.
Suddenly Dan’s cell phone rang. It was the call from his mother.
– Yes, mom… I’ll call you back soon. Busy now. – Dan answered his mom’s phone call and addressed to me and Slava at once. – I’m sorry, guys, but it’s time to go. My mom is worrying so much about her car. She wonders if everything is OK with the car and if I drive safely enough not to ruin it. She also demands to return the car as she suddenly needs it for some reason.
– Okay then, let’s go! – I smiled.
We left the restaurant and ended up in a heavy smoky street instead of the same, bright and sunny one, just three hours before. We went to the parking garage and sat down into my mother-in-law’s car that she politely allowed her son to use for the wedding.
Dan’s cell phone rang again. He apologized for being interrupted, stopped the car and left it.
– Immediately come back home, can you hear me, asshole? Come back until you get into an accident. Where the hell are you, Dan? I want my fucking car now!
The car windows were opened, and I could hear very irritated and categorically insistent demands from angry Miriam – my husband’s mother. She wasn’t shy in choosing expressions when she spoke to her son over the phone.
– OK, mom. Please, do not worry. I’m coming back. Your car is safe, – Dan answered quietly.
At the moment Miriam called, she had no idea about our marriage. She didn’t know that her son had gotten married just a few hours before in Beverly Hills.
Dan didn’t tell her a word about this, but a few days before the ceremony Dan tried to explain to me.
– Vika, my sick mother is a real witch, and it would be better for everyone to keep a secret about our forthcoming marriage at least for a while. But do not worry, she will give me her car for the wedding, and we’ll spend the wedding day as we have already planned with you, okay?
– You know better. – I shrugged my shoulders.
Dan finished the phone conversation with his mother and sat down into her comfortable luxurious golden Pontiac. That car Miriam