– Ah! – I blinked perplexedly and looked at my wet dress, which instantly absorbed all the water.
There was a fuss at the table, and the waiter looked at us anxiously, never ceasing to apologize. My mother ran up and handed me a napkin.
– Sorry, I do not understand how this happened. The glass slid from the tray and…
– It’s okay, – I tried to smile, taking a short look at him, wiped the water from my dress and got to my feet – it’s just water. I’ll be back soon. – I turned to my family. – Where is the toilet? – I tried to distract the pale waiter from guilt.
– Please, – he pointed toward the bar, – I will accompany you.
I nodded and turned my attention back to the family.
– Please have dinner without me. Nothing bad happened.
I smiled at the waiter, making it clear that I was ready to go.
– Once again, I’m sorry … – along the way, the waiter tried for the hundredth time to apologize to me.
– In fact, nothing terrible happened … – I continued to wipe the dress on the way to the toilet, when I suddenly stumbled over my own leg and crashed into someone. – Oh, please forgive me – I looked up and saw a curious look directed at me.
– It’s okay, – the man across from me was dressed in a white kandura, and despite the fact that he was certainly a purebred Arab, he spoke Russian very well. – Are you okay? – He politely asked and reluctantly looked from me to the waiter, whose pallor gave way to green. It seemed that a little more, and he would collapse unconscious.
– Yes. All is well. It will be even better if I can get into the toilet without incident. Sorry to bother you – I smiled and took a few steps to the side, breathing a sigh of relief when I saw a sign pointing to the women’s toilet.
I put myself in order and returned to the hall. Neither the waiter nor the person I came across was anywhere, but my parents proved something to a man in an expensive formal suit.
– … this is a real shame. You understand that you spoiled us an important evening! – My mother was very arrogant.
– Mrs., we apologize to you, – said the man with an Arabic accent. I think this is a manager, or possibly an owner. At least this can be judged by its impeccable appearance.
– What’s going on here? – I asked frivolously, returning to my place and looking around all those present. – Mom, who dared ruin your evening?
She rolled her eyes, showing with her whole appearance that I did not notice the obvious.
– The waiter! He ruined the expensive dress, caused you inconvenience and in general, what kind of service?
I took a deep breath and looked at the man, who began to noticeably nervous.
– I beg you, do not pay attention. We have absolutely no complaints about you. All is well. Thank. – I smiled and looked at my family, watching with lateral vision, as a man, after some hesitation, still decided to eliminate himself before we changed our minds. – Why arrange this show?
– We deserve at least a drop of respect! – Mom looked at me offended.
– Mom, nobody owes you anything here! We are guests in this country.
– Actually the opposite … – she stopped, and I raised my eyebrows inquiringly, waiting for the continuation. – Okay, let’s have dinner already.
I exhaled exasperatedly, realizing that being here was starting to depress me.
CHAPTER 2
– Will someone explain to me where this all came from? – I was losing my patience as I looked around the huge hall of my parents’ new restaurant, which was getting ready for opening three days later (which I only found out a few hours ago!). – Where did the old restaurant go? Where did the new come from? What’s going on here? Did you get a loan? Contact the mafia? I do not know what to think.
My father stood opposite me and patiently waited for me to tell him all my questions. No replies were received. I took a deep breath and ran a hand over my face.
– Ira, sit down. You need to cool down a bit.
He tried to take my hand, but I lifted it up, looked at him angrily and ran out of the restaurant, hoping to recover, but there was unreal heat on the street and many passers-by. Inhaling the hot air, I closed my eyes, trying to understand what was happening. I do not understand what they are hiding from me. I felt that something was wrong with them, but now I am finally convinced of this.
I stood with my eyes closed, exposing my face to the sun, wanting it to burn all the questions in my head and energize me so that I could calmly understand what was happening. I will not be able to leave my family, knowing that they are hiding something important from me.
– Sorry? Are you okay? I sharply opened my eyes, meeting curious eyes the color of molten chocolate framed by thick black eyelashes.
– Yes, everything is fine – sharper than I wanted, I replied. – If you are in a restaurant, then it is still closed!
I defiantly turned around, not giving the stranger the opportunity to answer, and almost lost my balance, but still managed to confidently enter the restaurant. There was no one in the hall. I grabbed a towel, and, not understanding who I was specifically angry at, I began to wipe the glasses more than necessary. In less than a minute, the door opened, letting in a stream of hot air.
– Excuse me, can I see Yuri Sergeyevich? – I turned to the sound of the voice, having the opportunity to see the visitor.
A young man in an expensive suit of dark blue is most likely sewn to order, since for such a height (two meters, no less) it is almost impossible to find at least something from the clothes in an ordinary store, and even so that she was sitting strictly in shape. Black hair, dark skin, which stands out against the background of a dazzling white shirt. The serious eyes that looked at me a minute ago on the street. A strict facial expression indicating that I am facing a person who occupies a high position in society.
– I can find out the reason why you are looking for Yuri Sergeyevich? – the man smiled slightly, not taking his eyes off me.
– This is about our contract. Tell him that Mr. Ali has come. – an expression appeared in his eyes, as if his name should tell me something. – He will understand.
Without taking my eyes off him, I thundered the glass onto the table, and next to it I threw a rag, turned sharply, and headed for the kitchen.
– Mr. Ali, you see. I found an errand girl. – I continued to walk, gripped by incomprehensible anger. My father was not in the kitchen, and I had to go through all the rooms that I knew, fortunately, I found him in office.
– Dad? Are you here? – I stuck my head in the door.
Father adjusted his glasses on his nose and looked at me, and then returned to the papers on the table.
– Yes, come in. His eyes ran along the lines on paper, and his lips were pursed, which meant that he was thinking deeply about something.
– Some Mr. Ali is looking for you there, – I specifically emphasized the last two words.
Father