So I cleaned myself up. I got into a tracksuit, as it turned out, neighbors can quickly and effectively diversify life, and there will be no time to change clothes. I went to the kitchen. The suspiciously familiar smell of something spicy beckoned. I hope my nose is not deceiving me and Ramila is making mulled wine.

" You know what the saddest part is? You'll have to live side by side with these people for years to come," she said sadly.

" Maybe it's not so bad?"

Ramila looked at me skeptically. I lowered my eyes. We've only lived here a week, and the neighbors have already revived our life. They're running around our yard, or trying to burn it down!

While Ramila was stirring the potion of soothing, I made sandwiches. Dinner turned out to be peculiar and far from proper nutrition, but tasty. Sometimes you have to indulge yourself. After thinking, I sliced some cheese and opened a jar of olives.

Having poured the drink into half-liter high mugs, we sat down at the table. It was under the hot wine with spices that I told my friend about the upcoming business trip. The longer I thought about it, the more I did not understand the motives of Andrew .

" Great! " Ramilya was excited. " Is he handsome?"

" Who? " I did not understand.

" Andrew ."

" Mr. Roberts , " I added. " So…"

Feigning indifference, I introduced the boss, a tall, statuesque brunette with green eyes. And that's just the beginning of his virtues, to everything else he is also smart. He's just predictable, judging by Camille. But he always smelled nice, his perfume, obviously bought not in Russia, with dignity silent about the number of zeros in foreign currency in its price tag. Oh yes, without a doubt, you can't pass by such a thing. Only after some time, I'm allergic to handsome men.

" So he's handsome," Ramilya said.

" He's not my type," I said.

" Well, we've already seen yours," Ramilya said skeptically.

" You know, when I came to the interview, there was a whole corridor full of models, and I was chosen. What does that say?"

" That they birch trees? " Ramila suggested.

I shook my head and, carefully scooping up the "brew" with a tablespoon, drank my mental torment. Unlike my friend, I had another theory. Against the background of beauties with legs from the ears, I was a natural gray mouse. And Ms.Adams was looking for a secretary who would work, not dream about the boss. And if fantasies wander into her head, the boss will not want to realize them.

" But if that's the case, you probably shouldn't overstep your bounds. This business trip will be a test. Whether you can stand the test of his beauty and charm or not. You need to pack your things. "

And not in a way that makes it look like you're ready to jump into bed with him, even though you'd rather be on the table with your boss. You have a different mission for this company.

That's where I totally agreed with her. I didn't have a normal job in my employment history. I had to be able to hold it for a couple years. And ideally get a promotion. Rendezvousing with my boss didn't fit into that plan.

" But, you know, it's time to get out of the "mousey mouse" mold, too. There will be other men there," Ramila added unexpectedly.

I grimaced. After the betrayal of my beloved, I was not ready to let someone into my life.

" Hey, neighbors!"

There was a knock at the kitchen window. We shuddered and turned at the knock. A burned-out neighbor loomed in the yard. This time he looked almost decent: in sweatpants and an open turtleneck, but in the same alcoholic T-shirt. He looked about forty years old. His blond, long uncut hair fell over his eyes, and his face was framed by a beard that would only scare a barber.

" What do you want? " Ramila snorted, opening the window.

" I just came to apologize. I didn't know you'd already arrived."

The man's logic was strange. That is, if he knew that the house was inhabited again, would not have set fire to the wood?

" Well, apologize, " "allowed" Ramilya.

" Wo!"

The neighbor shook a colored shabby bag and… climbed through the window. Ramilya recoiled, and I jumped up. No one had ever come to visit us like that before. The neighbor threw the bag on the table and introduced himself:

" Mathew."

" Ramilya, Rina."

Unexpectedly, my friend responded, approvingly squinting at the bag, which in fact turned out to be full of smoked fish.

" I smoked it myself," Mathew said proudly.

" Have a seat," Ramilya almost purred.

Smoked fish was her weakness. She consumed it in immense quantities and drank it with sweet tea. To me, it was a terrible combination. The guest did not talk himself into it, and sitting down at the table, he grunted approvingly, taking a mug of mulled wine. Being in some shock from unexpectedly formed neighbor's meetings, I snatched my phone without looking and answered the call.