Alter Ego
Chapter 1
The Girl in Red
They’d been sitting in this bar for a few hours already. The reunion of two high school buddies who hadn’t seen each other in eight years was going off without a hitch. At least, Artem was in that state he liked to call, with a poetic flair, “a light elevation.” His friend Alex was also grinning contentedly, leaning back in his chair. They’d already moved past the initial, serious stage of their get-together, where each guy tried to one-up the other, bragging about their life achievements. Now, there was a pleasant buzz in their heads, and the world before their eyes seemed brighter, even if a little less sharp than usual.
So, the posturing was set aside, and the guys shifted to reminiscing and swapping jokes.
“Hey, remember Julia, the class president?”
“How could I forget? Man, she made our lives hell…”
“Well, get this—she’s gone into politics! Running for mayor of the city.”
“No way, seriously?”
“Dead serious, I’m not kidding! And Natalie? She married some local big-shot millionaire. Sure, he’s over sixty, but whatever… Now she’s got a villa in Nice!”
“And I ran into Victor the other day. He’s got his own law firm now. Can you believe it? The guy was such a shrimp back then, couldn’t string two words together…”
“Yeah…” Artem downed his shot in one gulp.
He felt a pang of annoyance that he didn’t have much to brag about. He worked as a regular manager at a company that sold some questionable dietary supplements. He spent all day glued to a computer, filling out forms and invoices, and cold-calling clients, trying to convince them to buy the latest fat burner or potency booster.
He made decent money, sure. But what good was that when you couldn’t flash a fancy nameplate on your office door or boast about some prestigious title?
On nights like this, he’d call himself a freelancer and vaguely hint at “creative work” and “putting together a new collection.” Though, to be fair, the bit about the collection wasn’t far from the truth. In his free time, Artem wrote poetry. He posted his work on his Facebook page and even had a decent number of followers. Recently, someone from a small publishing house messaged him privately, offering to publish a book of his poems. Of course, it would be at his own expense, and the cost wasn’t exactly pocket change. But you’ve got to start somewhere. If his first collection did well, the publisher might cover the costs for the next one. That’s what the woman negotiating with him had said. So now, he was saving up to make his dream a reality.
“So, how’s your love life?” Alex asked. Artem’s old classmate was actually named Alexei, but after moving to the capital and rubbing shoulders with the artsy, bohemian crowd, he decided the name sounded too “small-town.” Alex worked as a journalist, specializing in covering cultural events. Artem had already dropped a hint, fishing for Alex to mention him—Artem Ostrozhsky, the up-and-coming poet—in one of his articles.
Alex’s response was vague, something about how he’d try to figure something out, but it wasn’t guaranteed since the editor called the shots. “He’s jealous,” Artem thought. “Doesn’t want me stealing the spotlight…”
“Right now, I’m flying solo,” Artem waved his hand, nearly knocking over a half-empty salad bowl. “I’m kinda done with women, you know…”
“How come?” his friend asked, surprised. “I’ve been with the same girl for three years now. Thinking about popping the question.”
“What, willingly stick your neck in a noose? Nah, I’m all about no-strings-attached relationships!”
“And how many of those no-strings flings have you had?” Alex’s sharp, journalistic edge started to show.
“Oh, I’m not complaining! I can charm any girl right now,” Artem boasted, getting carried away.
A young, pretty waitress approached their table to clear the empty plates. Artem immediately seized the chance to show off his supposed Casanova skills.
“Miss, do you like poetry? I could write a poem about you,” he offered, looking right into her face.
“Sorry, I’m working,” she replied with a practiced smile.
“What about after work?”
She turned silently and walked away.
“Looks like your poetry isn’t winning any hearts here,” Alex remarked.
“No big deal. You saw her—she’s on the clock, can’t flirt with customers. But check it out, over at that table. See that hottie in red? Bet you anything I’ll be leaving here with her.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Alex snorted.
“Wanna make a bet? That I can win her over right now?”
“Alright, you’re on. What’s the stake?”
“How about a hundred bucks… or two hundred?” Artem paused, mentally calculating how much cash he’d have left after paying the tab. Payday wasn’t for another week…
“Come on, don’t make me laugh. A hundred bucks? Really?”
“I’m a little strapped for cash right now, poured all my money into a sweet investment deal,” Artem said quickly. “I’ll make it back soon, but you know how it is…” He shrugged.
“Fine, let’s bring back the good old days: loser has to grant the winner’s wish. No backing out!”
Back in high school, they loved making bets like this, coming up with ridiculous challenges for the loser—like crowing like a rooster in the middle of a strict math teacher’s class or running down the school hallway during lunch break in just their underwear.
Artem couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ve gotta come up with something for this big-city hipster,” he thought, “something he’ll remember for a long time…”
“Deal, you’re on!”
***
The woman who’d become the subject of their bet had no idea about any of it. She sat in an elegant pose at a corner table by the window, her slender legs, clad in black stockings, on display for all to see. She sipped a martini from a tall, thin-stemmed glass. A small plate of sliced fruit sat in front of her, and she was engrossed in her smartphone, studying something with keen interest.
“She’s reading,” Artem concluded. “That’s good, not just scrolling through pictures. I can start with some casual small talk…”
He got up from his seat and, with a slightly unsteady gait, made his way over to the table of the “lady in red,” as he’d mentally dubbed his target.
“Excuse me, beautiful, mind if I sit with you?”
The woman glanced at him briefly and shrugged, not taking her eyes off her screen.
That was a good sign—she didn’t tell him to get lost.
After sitting quietly for a minute, he craned his neck, trying to peek at what she was reading. He needed some way to strike up a conversation.
On her smartphone screen was a pretty explicit video. He quickly looked away, but inside, he felt a surge of excitement. She must’ve come here looking to meet someone. Odd, though, that she’d been sitting here so long and hadn’t hooked up with anyone yet. Could it be fate? Or maybe she’d been waiting for him all along?
The woman shot him a quick glance and gave a sly smile. Up close, though, she didn’t seem as stunning as she had from afar. Her face was caked with foundation, her eyebrows were wide and trendy, and her lips were painted with deep burgundy lipstick. She was tall, broad-shouldered, almost like an athlete. Artem usually went for delicate, petite women with refined features and small hands and feet. This one’s boat-shaped shoes had to be at least a size nine, if not bigger…
Whatever. At least he’d get to show up that smug Alex. Oh, he’d already figured out his wish—Alex would have to write a detailed social media post about Artem’s creative work…
He squinted, picturing his “moment of fame,” when he felt a soft touch on his shoulder.
The woman turned to him and shoved her smartphone right under his nose. On the screen, two naked bodies were passionately entangled. But something about the video struck Artem as odd. Looking closer, he realized both actors in the adult film were men!
“Do you like this kind of thing, sweetie?” the woman asked, leaning in so close that he caught the sharp, sweet scent of her perfume from her shiny black hair. She placed a hand with long, bright red nails on his knee.
Artem jerked back, nearly toppling off his chair. Because the “woman’s” voice was anything but feminine! A deep, solid bass cut through, even though the “lady in red” was trying to sound seductive…
“Sorry,” Artem stammered, jumping to his feet. “I… uh… made a mistake… Thought you were someone I knew. Thought it was her sitting here…”
The “woman” looked at him with that same sly smile.
“No worries, it happens,” she replied kindly. “Well, if you change your mind, come back. I’ll be here a little longer.”
And with that, she turned her attention back to her smartphone...