9. Welcome to London, welcome to life. And Smolenskaya, my guide to life

September 16, 2006

The second part of the party was much more fun for Arkadiy. First, a crowded bar, then some popular club. All underage, but somehow everything’s allowed. How? I’ll find out later. Meanwhile it’s just cool. Moscow style.

Music tuned his mind, flashing lights made everything look ten times brighter. Sea of people, Bacardi, Moët & Chandon, Crystal…

Smolenskaya didn’t drink anything and disappeared somewhere almost at once. Arkadiy’s thoughts, however, got attracted by Melani. Who she was and where she had come from remained a mistery too complicated to be solved in his current state. Hot and sexy, several years older than him… Everything was going fucking perfect.

Terry had also found himself a gorgeous company. Kamila tried to intrviene but to no avail, and Arkadiy’s mood got higher with every minute. To make things better Melani shouted, ‘Wanna fuck?’

‘Fuck yeah, baby!’

This kind of English is really easy to learn if you have such awesome practice.


‘Your British adaptation went well, congrats.’

Voice overwhelmed with sarcasm.

‘Thanks,’ he got up from the ground.

No cash, no phone! And Smolenskaya. Completely sober. Watching me with a taunting smile. Where did she come from?

‘Left the club with Melani, and suddenly some muscleheads. Four!’

And English didn’t help. Fuck.

‘Vodka is the best cure for show offs,’ Milana pulled something out of her clutch. ‘Come here.’

Tissues? Awesome.

‘Did they break my nose?’

‘You’re such an idiot, Novikov,’ she said, softly dabbing his face.

‘And you… Why are you here?’ he tried to change the subject. Stupid situation.

‘I was watching you,’ she replied calmly. ‘It could’ve been worse.’

‘What do you mean, worse?’

‘Drugs. Also popular. You’re rich.’

‘And what ’bout Terry?’

‘Terry’s learned.’

Milana smiled, wiping the blood off his face. Completely calm. Bloody blue blood.

‘Are you learned too?’ he wanted to get to wound her, to shatter the icy indifference and the arrogant tone.

‘I do not drink.’


‘Not even water?’

She ignored him, twirling her Vertu in her hand.

‘You just can’t have fun!’

‘I have fun whatching those who drink to have fun. Levels of intellect. Ever heard of such?’

Too complicated. Bitch.

She glanced at the screen of her phone, ‘Let’s go.’



‘No,’ he said firmly.

‘Yes,’ she replied with equal decisiveness, took him by the hand and pulled towards a nearby car.

‘I don’t want to go to the hospital. Let’s go to your place.’

‘To the hospital. You need your nose fixed. And it wouldn’t hurt to fix your brains as well. You don’t want trouble, do you?’

No. Nor do I want to go with you.

‘Why don’t you return to the club?’

Milana shook her head.

‘It’s boring.’

‘And hospital’s fun?’

‘With you, yes.’

He gave up and got into the taxi. Milana said something to the driver, and the car slowly drove away from the club.

Welcome to London, welcome to life. And Smolenskaya, my guide to life. Wanna fuck. Why’s she so sober? Boss indeed. Hmm, Novikov, but she definitely cares. Awesome. Fuck yeah.
©Smolenskaya.Moscow All rights reserved. If you want to use any part of the book, please, contact the authors.

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Contents. Part 1