VIII
(One hundred minutes to impact)
He was every bit the perfect host. He supervised the bartenders, checked the drink supplies, conferred with the security guys.
In short, he saw to it that everything ran as it should.
And the party was in full swing. Sweaty bodies and flushed faces everywhere, but on each one there was either a smile or the plain sight of a good time.
People were enjoying themselves, well-watered, and his goal was accomplished.
Later he'd amuse himself with the fact that he had to replenish the stock of alcohol he'd borrowed from the warehouse, but it was simply impossible to predict consumption when you have hundreds of partygoers.
Nick smiled with satisfaction. Why not make use of the opportunities and the fully stocked warehouses on the floors above — the companies only look at numbers and lists anyway.
And borrowed goods were easy to replace.
He thought about treating himself to a few bottles of fine champagne after the party to celebrate the fact that he was capable of throwing a party to remember.
Yes, a few bottles would be quite enough.
He felt a slight shudder in the structure as he stepped in among the unbridled partygoers writhing to the rhythm of the electronic music. He stopped.
"What the hell?" His attention was caught by a thin sprinkle of dust that had drifted down from the ceiling and from the pipes on the side. That wasn't caused by the vibrations coming from the enormous bass speakers.
This was something deeper. No one noticed those tiny irregularities except Nick, who knew the system and subtly sensed every change in it.
The vibrations stopped, and Nick felt a stronger flow of air in the room.
But something wasn't right. He moved closer to the ventilation grille and began, imperceptibly, to sniff.
Though the ventilation was working normally, the air was a little strange.
He didn't get the feeling of fresh, drawn-in air as before; instead there was some heavy, metallic smell.
That was new. But it seemed normal, and Nick smiled and greeted an acquaintance pushing through the dancing bodies beside him.
Having made sure everything was fine with the partygoers, he went to the rest zone, where it was almost pleasantly quiet in contrast to the wild partying he'd come from.
He walked up to the improvised bar and shook his head at the bartender's questioning look.
It was too early for a drink. There was still time.
His attention was drawn to a thoroughbred blonde as she approached him.
"Hey Nick, how are you?" She smiled seductively.
"Tina, Ana's friend?" he recognized the girl.
"That's right, remember, we met three months ago at that birthday party."
Nick thought, and then remembered.
"Yes, I remember. And I remember we danced a few beats."
"That's right, you dance well," Tina looked him over with satisfaction.
Nick remembered the girl, and remembered that she hadn't attracted him much, because she came off as expensive. And he didn't like gold-diggers, which was why he'd never called her, even though she'd given him her number.
"How are you?" he asked.
Tina ordered some complicated drink and answered as she seductively sipped it. She smacked her lips.
"Well, I'm good, business is going well, though it's getting harder and harder to please people."
Nick had an inappropriate comment ready, but held back and just nodded.
"Imagine, the other day someone asked me for a machine you can only get in America."
"And did you?"
"Did I what?" Tina asked him.
"Satisfy the customer," Nick needled.
"Oh, no way, no chance of getting it, the customs would kill me." She didn't get it.
Nick nodded, feigning sympathy, but he was enjoying himself.
"Understandable, some goods have to be declared no matter how light they are."
"Yeah, otherwise those machines are pretty heavy, and they charge customs by weight, imagine that."
"Understandable — fifty kilos of live weight is worth how much to them?" he kept poking.
"Well, say a few thousand just for the customs, and when you add the taxes…" Tina said thoughtfully.
Nick couldn't hold it in any longer and burst out laughing. She looked at him questioningly.
"Oh, I just saw something over there in the corner." He was still laughing.
Tina turned and looked, but since she saw nothing, she returned her attention to Nick, who had stopped laughing but still wore a mischievous smile. She set the empty glass on the bar and stretched seductively like a cat.
"Up for a dance?" She turned away from him, sensually fit her backside into his groin, and swayed, rubbing against him enticingly.
Nick went along, took her by the backside with his hands, and moved her a few steps to the rhythm. She stretched, offering her body to his hands and to the gazes of everyone around. But Nick gently pulled away and whispered in her ear.
"No, Tina, I've got too much work to be having fun." He stepped back, and Tina, disappointed, stopped writhing.
"Oh, okay, understandable." She pouted and lowered her head, tracing invisible circles on the floor with her boot.
For someone else that scene would have been tremendously alluring, but not for him.
He said goodbye and turned toward the exit.
He had no appetite for a person like Tina.
He knew that type of woman and kept his distance from them.
She was used to getting everything she wanted, and she could be had by anyone with a deep enough pocket.
Shells attractive on the outside, hollow within.
Deep down, Nick was traditional and loved natural, wholesome girls, as he liked to call them.
Girls who stood firmly on the ground and knew how to live and survive without cheaply selling off their attributes.
Leaving in that way, absorbed in his thoughts, he collided with someone just coming into the room. He felt something spill over him.
"Oh no, sorry." The voice broke through the noise of the round foyer.
Bowing his head to gauge the extent of the damage the spilled, sticky drink had left on his blazer, he raised his eyes and drowned in a black sea of an apologetic gaze.
A gorgeous heart-shaped face with almost black eyes beneath well-groomed brows.
Straight black hair falling carelessly to her shoulders.
And gorgeous proportions cinched into a short black dress that only emphasized her god-given curves.
Nick stepped back, enchanted. She was young, but not overly young. The girl kept apologizing:
"I wasn't looking, my fault."
"Oh, it's no problem." Nick held the soaked cloth with his hand, feeling the stickiness of something.
"Oh, it is a problem, elderflower juice doesn't rinse out easily." The girl rummaged through her purse and took out a crumpled paper tissue.
She began wiping him with her small hands, but couldn't get it clean, even with Nick helping. He suggested:
"It needs to be rinsed with water."
"That's right, off with the jacket," she ordered him, though she still felt awkward.
Nick obeyed and handed her the blazer. She immediately headed for the toilet.
Not knowing the way, Nick followed her. The toilet was, miraculously, empty, and the girl began rinsing and soaking his blazer in the outdated sink.
The water gurgled as the girl lost her battle with the yellow stain.
Finally, she turned to Nick, who, still enchanted, was staring at her figure.
"I'm afraid it won't rinse out. I'm terribly sorry."
"So what now?" Nick added a mournful tone to his voice. "I've got nothing to wear, and my shirt's soaked too," he complained about an invisible stain on his chest.
The girl thought. She looked so attractive while thinking, because a small line would appear between her brows.
Nick took off his shirt and turned toward the sink, which had been outdated even during communism.
People back then simply had no style. Or no means.
Or had all this been built by a state that cared nothing for aesthetics?
He began rinsing the shirt, deliberately flexing his muscles to impress the girl.
He felt her gaze and huffed with satisfaction because of it.
He turned toward her and noticed she'd been sizing him up. He'd succeeded in his aim.
"The damage isn't too bad, and a little freshness from the wet fabric will do me good."
"Uh-huh…" she still had that terribly seductive line on her forehead.
"By the way, I'm Nick," he offered her his hand.
"Nika," the girl replied, taking his grip.
Her hand had soft skin, and Nick felt a tingle, as if from static electricity. Or was he just imagining it? He smiled.
"Interesting, Nick and Nika, like a couple of bandits."
She smiled, but didn't let go of his hand.
"Like in a movie," she agreed, her eyelashes trembling almost imperceptibly.
"Well then, in true movie fashion, we should go for a drink," Nick suggested, pulling on the wet shirt.
"I'm paying, at least that way I can make up for the ruined clothes," Nika insisted.
"Works for me."
They came out of the toilet and, chatting cheerfully, ordered drinks at a nearby bar.
"Where are you from?" Nick asked, taking the offered drink.
"From Dubrovnik."
"Wow, the passionate south."
"The south, yes — and passionate? That's up for debate." Nika took a sip without taking her eyes off her companion.
"The most beautiful women come from the south, something about the Mediterranean climate makes them attractive." Nick was flirting. She nodded silently. "But tell me, what's a thoroughbred southern girl doing up here with us in the cold north?"
"I came to defend my doctorate."
"Oh, adding a title to the name, are we?" Nick played the yokel, at which she laughed.
"Of course, it's the result of hard work," the girl replied through laughter in her Dubrovnik accent.
"And how's it going?" Nick grew serious, but still flirted with his eyes, beckoning.
"Biology is demanding, it's not all about reproduction," Nika went along with the flirting and coquetted, swaying her body.
"Oh yeah, reproduction you say — of mammals, or?"
"I think we've strayed a bit," Nika wouldn't let the conversation veer off. "I study botany, which is a branch of biology. You know, plants and such."
"What, plants don't reproduce?" Nick wouldn't give up.
"Not in the way you're imagining, young sir."
"And what way would that be? Somehow I picture a male plant singing serenades beneath the terrace to some gorgeous female flower."
Nika laughed out loud. You could see she was having fun and responding well to the flirting.
"The way technology's going, maybe that's not so far-fetched," she agreed.
"Hmm… I know Dubrovnik has lovely gardens, do you plan to work there?" Nick changed the subject, because he really didn't know much about botany, and he figured a bar was no place for such conversations.
"No," Nika set down her drink and moved closer to him, because the music had gotten louder and it was harder to hear each other. "My destiny is somewhere outside the country. The conditions are better."
"A well-known fact — all the young and good-looking people are leaving," he agreed with a nod.
"Sir, are you flirting with me? You've paid me several compliments now and ask nothing in return." Someone bumped Nika as they ordered a drink at the bar, and she ended up almost face-to-face with him. Her pulse quickened and a blush washed over her.
She looked at him intuitively, blinked, as an unexpected warmth spread through her body.
She wasn't usually an easy girl. But this guy radiated something.
Nick read her closeness as an invitation, set down his drink, cupped her head in his hands, and kissed her.
Nika flinched, but didn't stop him. She readily kissed him back, and their tongues began to play.