Into the Lion's Den (27 page)

“It's money well invested. I'm thinking to send him in June to do some castings so he doesn't lose practice.”

“Don't expect him to get another Guntram.”

“That is virtually impossible. He's a masterpiece. Unique. My best purchase so far. I'm thinking what to give him for his birthday.”

“It's in October!” Oblomov laughed a false protest. “What about a Renoir?” He joked.

“Could be. He likes a lot the one he has in his room. I wanted a Bronzino, as he loves his style but there's nothing available at the moment. I even suggested Lintorff to sell me one of the ones he has in Rome, but he nearly sent me to Hell. I offered to trade it for the two icons I inherited from my grandfather but no luck.”

“Once Lintorff has something, he never lets it go, Constantin Ivanovich. Like a pit bull.”

“More like a crocodile, Ivan Ivanovich. A crazy crocodile. Nothing about Morozov?”

Nothing, he's very quiet in the moment. Olga too. She's gone to Marbella with Stephanov.”

“She could do us all a favour and stay there. I'm more and more tempted to give her, her share and divorce her. I hate lying to Guntram and not seeing my children. If I could put them together, that would be great.”

“Boss, the minute he finds out you're married, hell will break loose. Four children? That's going to be hard to explain.”

“Three, and he always wanted children. One year more and he will finish the BA. Enough time as to organize everything. Sofia, Constantin and Vladimir can move to London. There are very good schools and they will like Guntram.”

“Children as babies. Your eldest will start high school soon.”

“It will be good to get rid of Olga. I have enough of her.”

'just a sleeping pill for children!'—and convinced him to take a shower and get dressed for going out with Repin. He didn't want to at all and only grieved for his stupid friend. 'All his fault, who tries to rob the lover of a man like Repin?

The little cretin knew very well who he was because he was planning to blow our covers!'

First argument had been over the choice of clothes. The boy had refused outright to wear the beige brown jacket with the pink shirt and scarf. 'Lord, how dumb can he be! He has to meet the wives, and women melt when they see a young boy looking like just out from the Tommy Hilfigher catalogue.” After several tries, the boy had decided for a dark blue, almost black, suit and grey shirt. Resorting to his many years as diplomat, Massaiev was able to convince him to use the eye drops and do his best to “look normal”.

“The ladies don't deserve to have you brooding at their table. Don't say a word about this. Remember your education.”

“My best friend is dead and I didn't attend to his funeral! I didn't know it!” Guntram cried and for a second Massaiev believed that the mess would restart, but nothing happened.

“I know, but you can do nothing about it. If he were sick, it would be understandable that you want to visit him, but that's not the case. Come on, Guntram. You're a sensible young man. Be nice to Mr. Repin tonight and the ladies. Tomorrow you will speak with him about this. Perhaps he lets you go to Argentina after you have passed your tests and presented your work at Robertson's. You can't leave now. It's in a month’s time.”

“Everyone believes that he had it coming! Juan told me that he was into cocaine.”

'What's so rare? Many are into this. We need customers.' “You don't know that and it's none of your concern. You don't do such things and avoid people who do it. Mr. Repin will never want you near such kind of persons. Please, get ready. We have to be there at 9 p.m. Mr. Repin will arrive directly from the airport. He came all the way from Dubai just to be with you before he has to fly to Austin in two days.”

“I suppose you're right, Mikhail. Constantin does not deserve to get troubles from me,” Guntram whispered totally abashed and feeling miserably under his pounding headache. “That aspirin was not working at all.”

“I'll give you another thing; perhaps some paracetamol.”

“No, leave it. I'll be fine.”

“Of course you will.” Mikhail reassured Guntram and prevented him to take a dark tie. “It's informal tonight. Hurry up, Yuri will drive you.”

Much to Guntram's chagrin, “The Lancet” was an exclusive nightclub and not a restaurant as he had believed. He hated clubs because of the loud music, the lights, the incredible amount of people packed inside, no matter if you were in the VIP's area, 'instead of being stomped by normal shoes, you get Jimmy Choo's marks'. How can they walk with such things?' Constantin liked to go now and then to one, especially if it belonged to a business associate, but he hated to be parked in the middle of a loud room, surrounded by people he didn't know, with women partly clad and drunken or lascivious men who didn't care if it was woman or men what they had in front.

The Mercedes stopped in front of the velvet carpet, guarded by an unfriendly monster, keeping the young girls in check with a skinny blonde with a PDA, reminding him of Juno for her two faces; lovable for the “in”, scornful for the “out” people. “As if those people you walk through the door would care about you.” Yuri descended from the car, immediately getting the looks of all the girls standing in line and went to speak with her. He returned to the car and opened the door for him, something that Guntram also hated. To parade in front of people his own age was horrible because he could feel the envy pouring out of their pores.

Guntram walked quickly, ignoring the best as he could the looks from the crowd and entered the building, the floor already trembling from the loud music on the dance floor. He was almost unable to understand Yuri yelling at top of their lungs to go into the elevator to the upper floors were was the restaurant.

Once inside the elevator, he let out a long sigh, partly glad that the noise had diminished.

“It's dinner with Malchenko and Oblomov's wives. The girls want to dance later. Restaurant is much better and has a private dance floor, 'Far from the Madding Crowd'.” Yuri joked lightly. “They came from Paris to shop and will return in five days.”

“Does it mean I have to see them again?”

“Hopefully, yes.”

Guntram had to make a supreme effort to keep a nasty retort to himself. Once in the restaurant, only Constantin was there, having something at the bar.

“Hello, my friend, is nice to see you again,” Guntram greeted him, only touching briefly his elbow to show his tenderness. “Did you have a nice flight?”

“Hello, my angel. Fine. Ivan and Boris will arrive soon. Do you want something to drink?”

“No, thank you. I have a headache.”

“Why is that?”

“Nerves, I suppose. The exhibition,” Guntram lied not very convincingly, raising all Constantin's suspicions. “Robertson is driving me mad. We had selected twenty-five works and now I have to change two because he sold them to some man in Brussels and he does not want to wait beyond December to take them home. A hole in the walls would look bad and they're part of a series, so I'm in a mess.”

“Why?”

“Robertson wants to extend; till February 2005. He says that he has spoken with some critics and they liked my material a lot and he also believes in the sales potential. Makes sense to extend a month. He will be passing by tomorrow to check what I have at home and see if there's something to replace those two.”

“I had priority!” Constantin protested feebly.

“The Belgian walked into the gallery, saw the children's portraits and bought them. He paid cash, without dribbling at all. A fat fish to let go unscathed.”

“My cousin Tatiana Ivanovna Arseniev has been married to Ivan for more than twenty years. They're on a second honeymoon since several months. She was very happy with her portrait and laid down her arms for some time. Ivan on the other hand, let go of her mistress and things are going better for both of them.”

“That's very good for them. I appreciate Ivan Ivanovich. He's a nice person.”

“Maybe you have to paint another of her. Laura—-she's American—wants one too and has been pestering Boris for a long time.”

“I'll work on them after the exhibition, my friend. I have my hands full at the moment. My tests are due very soon.”

Constantin was glad that Guntram was never asking anything about his business, no more than the “are you all right?” or “can I do something for you?” and he let the boy speak for a few minutes about his subjects and the class trip to Bath a few days ago, relaxing with the sound of his voice, although there was something not completely right with his angel. He saw his guests arriving and as usual Guntram behaved like a gentlemen with the ladies, hearing their stories and briefly commenting on the Covent Garden. Tatiana liked him at once and Laura took some more time, like half an hour, to fall under his spell. Guntram offered her to take her to visit some galleries and to the Victoria and Albert. “I can show you Portobello Road, if you want. I work on Sundays there.”

“He's perfect for you, Constantin,” Tatiana whispered in his ear when he was saying good-bye to her.

“I'm very glad for you. You know I never liked your marriage.”

“Thank you, Tatiana.”

“Next time, he's in Paris he should visit me and our son. I guess they could be friends. Piotr is only two years younger. Ivan says he's a good kid.”

“The best.” Constantin kissed his cousin before opening the door for her as Ivan was busy speaking with Boris and his wife, while Guntram remained in the background.

The guests left in their cars and Guntram came closer to him to wait for the Rolls Royce, still uncomfortable about the large queue in front of the place. 'It's almost 2 a.m. Don't they ever go home?'

The doorman opened the car's door and the youth jumped inside, glad to be away and Constantin followed him, almost exploding in his desire to kiss him after restraining himself for the whole evening. The man launched himself to brutally kiss him and Guntram did his best to survive the onslaught of hungry kisses, almost tearing his shirt's collar, dying of shame at the show they were putting on for the bodyguard and chauffeur.

“Constantin, please,” Guntram whispered, slightly pushing the heavier man on top of him away. “It's only a fifteen minutes drive,” he pleaded.

“Guntram, don't be dense now,” Constantin growled, his blood boiling at the rejection.

“When we're at home, please. You know I hate it when there's people around,” he asked, making his eyes big and his lover only huffed, releasing his prey.

'I truly hate his shyness. More boys do it in the middle of a club and he can't stand a kiss in my own car!

Only good thing is that he does not look around like the others and that saves me a lot of troubles.' “When we get home, we go to my bedroom, no detours, Guntram.” He announced firmly and the boy only nodded, looking very gloomy.

“What's the matter with you? Are you not happy to see me?” Constantin lost his patience.

“It's not you, my friend. I'm tired and have headaches. It was a long day.”

“Well, flying from Dubai is not exactly a play date” Constantin retorted very obfuscated.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult you,” Guntram mumbled.

“It's infuriating. You're never in the mood! I do my best to be with you and you only put your best face!”

“That's not true! I don't want to do it because I don't feel like it! Can't you respect this?” Guntram lost his temper. “The only thing you want is to fuck and then fuck some more! I'm not a bloody life size plastic doll!”

“Guntram!” Constantin shouted.

“My best friend is dead and the only thing you can think about is to fuck me! Well, I don't want to! I had enough! It's over. I'm sick of this. I want to go home!” He roared and started to cry again.

'I'll kill Massaiev for not forewarning me. This is impossible! That brat still ruining my angel from the grave! Pity I can't kill him again!'

“Guntram, I knew nothing about this. I'm sorry, angel. I thought you were upset with me. Let me hug you.” 'Excellent, I have to make now the full show of the caring man if I want to get something and it's going to be very bad sex because he's a wreck.' Constantin thought bitterly while Guntram started to cry again, plastered against his jacket.

When they arrived to the house, the boy didn't stop at all and continued there. 'Now I understand the expression cry me a river. This is a damned dam about to break!' “Guntram, we are at home. Let's go inside and we can speak in my bedroom.”

The boy stopped his crying and followed his lover meekly, without any kind of complaints. Constantin went to the library and served a whiskey for Guntram, convinced that the alcohol would give him a less dark perspective on life. “Here, drink this. You need it.”

“I don't want it.” The boy refused the drink but Constantin placed it in his hand.

“Guntram, you're still in shock. I had no idea at all. Forgive me if I forced you to join us tonight. Maybe you need some time alone.”

“No, Constantin. I just knew it today in the afternoon. No one ever told me a thing and it was a great shock. You have been so kind as to come to visit me. I'm sorry for what I said in the car. It was most thoughtless of me. You flew so many hours and you have to go to America and I'm giving you troubles.”

“Hush, don't mention it, my angel. Drink your whiskey and let me hold you a bit so you feel better.”

Constantin intoned in a soft voice and Guntram launched himself in his arms. 'Improving, but still far away.' He caressed with long strokes the youth's back and felt how the young man melted into his embrace, tightening his hold over Constantin's waist.

“I don't even know how it happened. Juan told me it was in the prison but I don't know which one. I missed his funeral too. He was my best friend in school and I wasn't there for him.”

“Where? In prison? Guntram, you're not thinking clearly. Do you have any idea of how it's?”

“No, but I let him down.”

“How? He nearly sent you there! He accused you of bringing drugs in my own plane! It's a tragedy when someone young dies but I cannot side with him. If it makes it any better, you can visit his mother in the summer. I remember her from my time there. I should write to her.”