Debutant. Chapter 8. Wine and betrayal. Part 1

This novel is fictional; there is no need to look for intersections with historical events. This is a continuation of “Debutant” by Nikita Savelyev, the first readers of which were readers of F1News.ru…

Chapter 8. Wine and betrayal. Part One

In the evening the mood noticeably improved, Henry slept well and happily stretched out on a spacious bed in a modestly furnished, but separate room. For once he didn’t have to spend the nights on a mattress in a caravan – Edward became generous and reasoned that it was inappropriate even for a co-pilot to spend his nights like a vagabond, and booked Henry a hotel room on his own cost. Of course Edward himself and his wife, as well as Georges, also stayed there. Where should you place it?

Excitedly, Henry walked slowly down the huge staircase, whistling a simple tune under his breath. A dark gray suit hung around his shoulders; I found it difficult to ask Georges. Henry himself, as you might guess, has major problems with his wardrobe. Georges grumbled as usual, but did him a favor. I agreed that it is not appropriate for a driver, even a novice, to walk around Monte Carlo under the guise of a proletarian. In general, the colorful crowd crept to the evening promenade in tailcoats and tuxedos, but in general there were also enough people dressed quite democratically. It is enough.

As Georges noticed, the hotel where they settled was not one of the fashionable hotels overlooking the highway, but from the point of view of someone who is not spoiled by luxury, Henry looked like a real palace. Only a few times during his short career did he and Phil indulge and stay in decent hotels, but otherwise – cheap motels and farms (and farmers’ daughters, of course!).

Georges himself warned that he would fly somewhere with old acquaintances. As he said casually, from aristocratic circles. Of course he didn’t invite me. I didn’t really want it. Henry looked at himself in the huge mirror with a Gothic frame. Even if the suit is a bit big, it looks pretty good. You can always point to a diet that dramatically changed your weight. Wow, I haven’t worn a jacket since graduation. And now that’s where it’s gone. All the way at the top.

The attentive doorman held the heavy door, Henry nodded slightly, as if this was all right for him, and began to descend the wide steps. At the foot he saw whispering gentlemen with notebooks and lenses. Who are they if not journalists? The crowd perked up at the sight of Henry. My heart beat with joy: is it really for him? Learned. What did you think? An unknown driver kept Sam Murphy behind him for a long time (okay, a few laps is a lot). Henry became more dignified. All his communications with the masters of the pen amounted to a few sentences to reporters from rural newspapers. What should they scratch?

The most agile journalist bounded up the stairs at a gallop, like a rabbit towards the female, gaining a few lengths from his brothers. Henry opened his mouth, but the smart man rushed past and Henry realized that this was not for him at all. He thought to look back: Charlie Rodwell was coming down from upstairs. A small, unusually agile and energetic middle-aged man. Director and maker of Crocus machines. The man who was called the best designer of racing cars. Walking with him were several prominent gentlemen in tuxedos, whom Henry vaguely knew from the paddock.

The journalists surrounded them in a semicircle, competing with each other and shouting one question louder than the other. They all boiled down to the reasons for the team’s failure in the race and a new technical malfunction of the car. Representatives of the press shouted as if trying to shout at the moon, but the director, irritated by the failure, was clearly not in the mood for excessive communication, he threw out abrupt comments and inexorably descended lower and lower, where it seemed that there was a car waiting for him.

Henry turned and continued walking. They’ll figure it out without him. Where should you roll the dice? Historic stairwells and spacious elevators offered the opportunity to climb higher. But the dike is also within easy reach. From here, Henry could clearly see the light-filled fleet of moored ships and small boats. The lights of multi-colored lanterns were imaginatively reflected in the calm waters of the bay. The gentle lapping of the waves drowned out the joyful laughter from the decks, and there was bravura music. Further on the lights became less and less frequent, and there the sea merged with the dark sky into one continuous impenetrable strip.

Henry looked enviously at the largest, brightly lit yacht; the deck was teeming with smart people and at the back an orchestra was tuning instruments. On board were huge, polished, gilded letters. Santa Monica. Things should be good for the rich sleepers now. How much do you have to earn, or maybe steal, to buy one? With an experienced captain, trained sailors, attentive waiters, skilled chefs and cheerful girls. So be it, Henry will start small. He had already gotten the suit, even if it belonged to someone else. Since I made a spontaneous decision to stay in this world, I will find my way. Henry turned away from someone else’s vacation and went his own way.

What a meeting! However, considering the size of the plot of land, which for some unknown reason has been turned into a luxury resort, that is not surprising. Henry ran into a couple of his employers: Edward and Sarah. He wore a tailcoat and a white shirt that hugged his far from slim figure and made him look like an older penguin. She wears a luxurious long dark blue dress with a striking slit. Short, weightless sundresses and tunics, similar to those worn by children, are now in fashion, but apparently the same rules applied to evening receptions in the conservative principality. What a beautiful woman!

Henry greeted politely. I would also like to raise my hat, but there is no point. Don’t demand it.

– Henry, old man! – Edward shouted, as if returning from a circumnavigation. – How are we doing them today, huh?!

It wasn’t until he looked at Sandra that Henry realized a choking wave of alcohol fumes coming from Edward. Ehhh. I inhaled – it felt like I was sipping a glass of liquor. And it is not Sandra who is holding her husband’s arm, but it is hanging from his wife.

– From the princely reception? – Henry asked politely.

After the race, the crowned couple throws a real ball in honor of the winner, in the middle of the palace above the tunnel, where until recently racers ran at speeds of more than a hundred kilometers per hour and took deadly risks for the entertainment of the spectators.

“More valuable people have been invited there,” Sandra smiled. – We attended our event.

“I didn’t want to leave, everything was great,” Edward commented slurredly. – Why did you drag me away?!

– Staff? – Henry suggested sympathetically, and noticed that the director was increasingly clinging to his wife.

– Do me a favour.

The hotel was just a stone’s throw away and the three of them returned in touching solitude. Henry supported the boss as subtly as possible, adjusting to his pace; he shuffled his feet and shouted loudly:

– We always miss something. It doesn’t matter how much we fight. In the beginning, many of us were like that. The worries disappeared, the costs of participation fell. Me and Quincy are buying the same chassis. His boys are fighting for the title, and they’re picking up my crumbs. How many suppliers have I changed? And pilots. Useless! Those like us have fewer and fewer prospects. Look at Rodwell – this is the reach, this is the flight. Or Stanton, a man from nowhere who made a car with his own hands. And we?

“Everything will be fine,” Henry grumbled.

Let’s get there already! The return journey, laden with a burden, seemed incomparably longer.

“I got really desperate, I started limiting myself to one car,” Edward grumbled. – Okay, you’ve made some sense, something is starting to work out. What if we were in the top three of finifi… fishini…? Well, you get the idea! Could you imagine?! Where are we going? I don’t want to go to the room! Let’s go to the bar. You’re a good guy, Henry.

Ultimately, the valuable cargo was safely delivered to its destination in the person of the director. Sandra skillfully stopped all protests and requests to literally drink another glass. In the room, Edward’s tongue was already moving with difficulty, and his eyes opened every now and then, but he still had the strength to beg his favor for a single drink. Sandra graciously gargled wine, after which the offered dose was immediately drained, the satisfied Edward fell on the pillow and, it seems, at exactly the same second began to snore.

Sandra glanced sideways at her husband, who was serenading with his nose:

– Help me put my feet on the bed. Similar. There was no more strength or desire to undress him. Thank you, Hendrik. Honestly.

– How can I refuse the authorities?

– Sorry for the distraction, you were going somewhere. Trust me, he’s rarely like that.

Sandra sighed and walked to the table and poured a full glass with a steady hand.

“I understand everything,” Henry said bravely. – There are so many events, impressions, Mr. Baker is tired.

He would probably disappear now and mumble something neutrally polite in farewell, but with his feet planted on the ground, Henry couldn’t keep his eyes off Sandra. The bust swayed seductively under the thin fabric. The sleeve of the dress seductively slid down to the elbow, revealing a graceful, slender arm. A hand with neat scarlet nails held a transparent glass.

Sandra interpreted his look in her own way:

– Sorry, I didn’t offer it to you. Debt?

– Y-yes.

== To be continued…