Play Assingment

Chapter 1

- I saw Mason.

My hand trembled, and I almost dropped glass of mineral water without gas.

- So what?

- What do you mean? Aren't you interested in how your ex-husband is doing? -Emma narrowed her eyes slyly. Who did I see him with? What does he look like? What does it drive?

My heart skipped a beat, but I tried not to reflect the volcano of emotions that woke up in my chest.

- Emma, I beg you! Let's not stir up the past! -I groaned.

- And who is stirring up? I just tell my friend whom I met by chance.

She shrugged her shoulders without a twinge of conscience.

-I don't need to report all your random meetings. -I emphasized the word "random" and drank the mineral water in one gulp. My throat was suddenly dry, and it became difficult to breathe.

Yes, sometimes, I had a strange reaction at the mention of Mason.

- Dear, as you say! But, damn it, Abigail, he's so handsome! In such a chic suit! And it looks, oh, you will lick your fingers! Listen, how did you let him go?

I closed my eyes. Enough. If she did not shut up, I would be rude, thereby giving myself away. For more than six months, all I've done is keep saying that I'm going through a breakup with my husband. Usually, I don't cry into my pillow and don't tear my hair out. That all is well. I'm happy. I closed the door to a past life and boldly looked into the future. Such foundations of behavior are dictated by modern society. Show weakness, and you will not be forgiven. They will savor your unhappy expression over and over again. I treated Emma well, we were friends, and therefore, who better than me to know how talkative she is. He will say something without thinking, and the news will scatter at the speed of a supersonic train. Then I will catch curious, sympathetic glances. And I cannot bear them.

-You know how I let him go. Easily. -I reached for the bottle and poured myself some more water. The day was hot. We sat in an open-air cafe, and I regretted not going to the covered wing. A little coolness would have been sweet.

- Oh, Abigail, I still don't understand! He is such a… he is so….

- Emma Crimson!

Emma knew when I called her by her full name, it was better to calm down. Thus, I sent the first message that I was getting angry. I didn't want to swear with her. We met to have coffee and kill time. No more.

She raised her hands to the top conciliatory.

- I am silent. I am silent.

I nodded.

- That's nice. You better tell me how you have an affair with - I made a circular motion with my fingers in the air. -Sorry, I don't remember the name of your last boyfriend.

Emma brushed it off.

-And don't. He's already finished.

My eyebrows went up slowly.

- Seriously?

- Yeah.

A scathing remark about my friend's frivolous behavior was on my tongue, but I said nothing. Why talk about what she already knew?

- You move fast.

- What time to waste? We, uh… -A thin finger with a long nail walked along the edge of a glass of cognac. Unlike me, she could relax. - He has a small ... uh ... inner world ... in his pants.

Emma burst out laughing, and I winced. Never ask for physiological details!

The ringtone of my phone saved me just in time. I grabbed the bag like a lifeline. No, I was happy to meet Emma and talk about nothing. Gossip is sometimes very helpful. But the mention of Mason spoiled the meeting.

- Chief!- I said to Emma, noticing her idle gaze.

- Chief? - Now she was surprised. -Did you get a job?

Her surprise was justified.

I nodded and pressed accept.

- I am listening to you, Mr. Dawson.

- Abigail, where are you?

- In the city. In the center - A strange question.

- Great! So you can get to the office quickly?

There were a couple of blocks before the editorial office. Even taking into account the midday traffic jams, it was possible to walk in half an hour.

- Yes, I can.

- Great. Then I'm waiting for you. I have a task for you. Very interesting.

At this mysterious phrase, the conversation was interrupted. I shrugged and put the phone back in my bag with a little bewilderment.

- No, I do not understand. Are you serious now? Did you get the job?- My first answer clearly did not satisfy Emma, and she demanded more information.

- Freelancer in one magazine.

- Oh! - Naturally, plump lips stretched out into a tube. -What the hell? Mason assigned the content to you!

Mason again.

Today I somehow inadequately reacted to him. I could, of course, attribute this behavior to the heat. Why? I can deceive anyone. It angered me that in six months since we left the courtroom as free people, not burdened with any obligations, he had never called. Never. I didn't even send a text message. I haven't logged into an account. He knocked me out of his life. And if not for the monthly letter from the online bank informing me that my account is decently replenished, I would have thought that he had forgotten about my existence.

By the way, I didn't ask him for money. He sent it himself. What for? Simply because he could not have done otherwise. This is Mason.

- So what?- I snorted and pulled out a powder box with lip gloss from my purse.- Emma, I don't want to sit at home and do nothing. I'm tired of it. Boring. I want to live.

-Uh,- Emma raised her eyebrows on the bridge of her nose. Sometimes her "uhhhh" got really annoying. An adult woman, but she did not get rid of the word parasites. - And now you don't live?

- You understood me perfectly. Don't pretend. Not in front of me. I know better than anyone else that behind this doll-like appearance and platinum hair is a smart young woman. I would say a predator. So let's not ... Okay?

- Okay, - Emma shrugged. -So you're leaving me?

- Yes.

- Well, okay. Better than okay, it's excellent!

- Explain.

- Don't turn around. Actually, no, you can look. It will get attention. Across the table from us, this super-macho guy just sat down. So it's good for me to be alone.

Naturally, I did not turn around. Emma, in her repertoire, walks through life with the motto: "Not a day without a man." This is her right, not for me to judge her. The main thing is safety. She already had an unfortunate experience with a gigolo who decently pulled money out of her. Now she is more careful and smarter.

I got up, walked over to her, and kissed her on the forehead.

- I'll call you.

- Yeah.

Her attention turned to the man, who did notice two girls idly spending time. I did not delve into thoughts on this topic. Smiling again at Emma and straightening my cotton jacket, I headed out of the cafe. I decided not to take the car. Better take a walk. And faster and without hassle.

Mr. Dawson found another task for me. Very well. I will be happy to work on a new article.

Carla, his assistant, chirped sweetly on the phone. Seeing me, she stepped up, tugged at her knee-length pencil skirt, and nodded toward the oak door. I winked conspiratorially. Cute secretaries who come to the office just to show off their outfits and clap their eyelashes amusingly will never change.

- Mr. Dawson, can I come in?

The chief editor of Sierra magazine looked at his gold watch and nodded contentedly.

- Abigail, I like your punctuality. Maybe you will start working full time?

He pointed to a light brown leather chair. I have noticed that brown is a priority color in the Sierra office. Walls, furniture, doors. Various shades of brown were everywhere.

- Mr. Dawson, thank you for the offer, but let's get back to this issue in a few months when you are confident in my professional competence. Until then, I will cope with the tasks set.

The editor nodded contentedly and put his hands on the table, having previously crossed them with a house.

- Good answer. You pleased the old man.

Mr. Dawson could hardly be called an old man. Fifty-five years old, elegant, English-style. Light trousers, a blue shirt, over which a jumper is casually draped over the shoulders. A neat beard and small mustache. Frozen benevolence in the eyes. I had a suspicion that he had been developing a similar look over the years, rehearsing in front of the mirror. His gaze never changed. In the two months I'd known him, he always had the same expression. For myself, I decided that I should be more careful with Mr. Dawson.

I didn't trust people who so skillfully knew how to hide their emotions.

-Good Lord, you are not so old! - I said the phrase that was expected of me. - You are a man in his prime!

- So, this same man in the prime of his years can count on a positive answer if he suddenly dares to invite a beautiful girl to dinner?- Noticing my instantly straightened back, he continued in a more humorous tone. - Abigail, for a friendly dinner.

There was some truth in every joke.

- People would think. And now this very girl would like to know why she was called off from lunch with a friend?- A sweet smile appeared on my face. I, too, when I wanted to, knew how to hide emotions.

- The reason is simple. And I think you will be interested. I want you to write an article about a club.

- Advertising?

- No. In order to improve the rating among readers.

- And what kind of club?- To be honest, I was not a fan of clubbing. Noisy. Stupid.

- The club is Exclusively opened only for special guests. It's a private, very private club.

Oh ... intrigue? A deliberate dramatic pause added zest to the dialogue.

- Private, you say?

- Very private.

I curled my lips and nodded in satisfaction.

- It's getting interesting. How do I get there?

- By invitation. The courier will deliver it personally to your hands.

Interest ceased to be feigned.- Any special instructions? Maybe pay attention to something? What exactly do you want me to display in the article?

- Your feelings.