Hero

by Dan Sugralinov

  Now it was clear to me why some apparently intelligent and level-headed people lost their heads on seeing a beautiful girl and acted like certified idiots. I could only imagine the detrimental effect on their minds if the said debuff was inflicted by a level 10+ Seduction!

  Never mind. I’d survive. She needed help, anyway. I watched out of the corner of my eye as the other two fussed around the office, helping her to fill in the paperwork. I got the feeling that those morons might even sign it for her, as well.

  I went back to the search. The vacancies were so many I had to sort through them. To begin with, I filtered out all those which offered less than 30,000 rubles a month and added a new search criteria: Over 90% probability of hiring Anastasia Semyonova.

  My work cell phone began to ring frenetically. Almost simultaneously, the landline rang too. Alik took it while I replied to the first call,

  “Great Job Recruitment Agency, how can I help you?”

  “Hello,” a hoarse male voice said, “Is this the agency?”

  “Yes, speaking. How can I help you today?”

  “The recruitment agency?” the man repeated.

  “Exactly.”

  “I’m looking for work...”

  As I spoke to him, cradling the phone between my ear and shoulder, Alik was busy painting rosy pictures to some retiree who wanted to find a summer job for her lazy granddaughter (I knew all this because Alik had the habit of repeating everything he was told on the phone).

  Then the door opened, letting in some swarthy guys who looked like migrant workers from one of the Central Asian republics. They hovered timidly by the door, dressed in all sorts of jumble sale apparel. Two of them were very young, wearing knitted caps despite the hot summer weather; the third one was a bit older, about forty or so. One glance at their profiles told me we had a delegation of cowboy builders here.

  “Fine, I’ll be off, then,” Kesha nodded his good-bye, trying to navigate around our new visitors.

  “Hello. Are Great Jobs here?” the older of the new arrivals inquired while the others timidly pressed their backs to the wall, letting Kesha go past.

  I gestured to them to wait a little.

  “What kind of job do you have?” the hoarse voice asked me on the phone.

  “We’re a recruitment agency. We help find work. What kind it is depends on you...”

  “You’re not trying to rip people off, are you?” the voice said, doubtful.

  “She needs to come and see us personally, ma’am!” Alik was shouting into the phone to the old lady who was apparently hard of hearing.

  Stacy floated from her chair and went toward our guests from sunny Somewherestan. They didn’t look like Kazakhs to me. They were more likely Uzbeks or Tadzhiks.

  “Hello! Yes, this is the Great Job Recruitment Agency,” Stacy cooed to our visitors. “Would you like to take a seat? You’ll have to wait a little. Would you like some tea? Or coffee, maybe?”

  The builders, completely blown away by such a cordial welcome, shook their heads in unison. Their foreman (whose name was apparently Faysal) replied for all of them,

  “Thank you, my daughter, we don’t need anything.”

  “Is it true that you’re not charging anything?” the hoarse voice asked me.

  “No, ma’am! You don’t need to come in person unless you’re seeking employment for yourself. What did you say? We could find something for you too...” Alik said, demonstrating an enviable knack in talking to old people.

  “Very well,” the hoarse voice agreed. “I’ll be along. What did you say? Aha. Understood. See you later, then.”

  Phew. I hung up and laid the phone on the desk. Still, it rang again straight away. What the hell was going on?

  “Phil, would you like me to get it?” Stacy offered, materializing next to me. “I can do it.”

  Once again a wave of her sex appeal surged over me. Without saying a word, I handed her the phone.

  “I’m not in a hurry,” she said, not yet answering it. “You can talk to Faysal first, if you wish.”

  How did she know his name? Had they already introduced themselves to her? Flummoxed, I nodded, then motioned to the Asians to come over. The two young ones remained standing while their foreman sat opposite me. A few moments later, the younger ones could sit down too as Alik had fetched more chairs and even offered up his own.

  The builders didn’t take much time. They were looking for construction jobs on the black which would allow them to be all together without being ripped off. A quarter of an hour later, they gave us their heartfelt thanks and left to meet up with an employer who was looking for someone to build a modest cottage on his newly-acquired plot of land. Even though I hadn’t signed a contract with them, Faysal had simpleheartedly paid a thousand rubles for each of them after having had a conversation with Alik. I didn’t worry about them because I’d entered the most stringent search parameters I could think of, including the lowest possible ratio of their being ripped off by the employer.

  Having finished with them, I went back to my search for Anastasia. I entered every possible search parameter I could think of, including the high probability of receiving an advance immediately after being hired.

  The map remained pristine. Not a single marker. What the hell was that? Was everybody so greedy they couldn’t pay her an advance? I took away all the filters, deciding to add them one by one.

  Now. All the companies and establishments in need of a secretary or office manager. 208 hits.

  Official employment: 161 hits.

  Salary after tax, 30,000 rubles or higher: 119 hits.

  The probability of receiving an advance in the first week after being officially employed: 76 hits

  A 90%-plus probability of employing Anastasia Semyonova: 0 hits.

  An 80%-plus probability of employing Anastasia Semyonova: 0 hits.

  What’s that for bullshit?

  I felt someone staring at me. I raised my head but couldn’t work out who it could have been. Stacy stood by the window talking to someone on our business cell phone. Alik had already retrieved his chair and was typing away while reciting our work conditions to a customer on the phone.

  I deleted all the search parameters, leaving only one.

  A 10%-plus probability of employing Anastasia Semyonova.

  One hit.

  Finally something. I focused on the marker to see the name of the company.

  The Great Job Recruitment Agency.

  Us? What was she supposed to do here? Answer the phone? Offer coffee to the visitors? That was ridiculous. In another six months, maybe, but at the moment, this wasn’t even a business. It was more of a joke.

  “Could you please come here, Stacy?” I called her once she’d finished talking. “What kind of wage do you have in mind?”

  “I’m not so bothered. But of course I’d rather have something that pays relatively well. What options are there?”

  “That’s the whole problem. I’m afraid there aren’t many options for some reason...”

  It was as if someone had ripped out her backbone. Deflated, she stooped, losing all the panache with which she’d entered our office and answered the phone.

  She looked up and asked again, “No options at all? Could you look for something who needs a nanny or a housemaid? I could also sell clothes in a boutique. Or any kind of shop, for that matter...” she was taking it well but her lower lip was already trembling.

  Everything about this girl made me uncomfortable. With her appearance and skills she could be now lounging on the best beaches of planet Earth, drinking mind-boggling cocktails as she relaxed after shopping sprees paid by some billionaire sugar daddy. Alternatively, she could be making a vertiginous career in any field from movies and TV to the stock markets. What was she even doing in our backwater city complete with this shabby business center and our newborn enterprise?

  Why couldn’t my interface find her any work? Why? I was a hundred percent sure that had she applied to any of those places wh
ich had come up in the search results, she would have been taken on. But why did the program deny her? Or could it be that...

  What if she’d wanted to be hired by us alone? In that case, she wouldn’t have even tried any other places, would she?

  But why would she do that? After my last conversation with the Voice camouflaged as old Panikoff, I thought I could smell a rat. But if so, then we’d better keep an eye on her.

  And seeing as I’d promised everyone a 100% probability of employment...

  “Listen, Stacy, I could offer you a job here with us. Your responsibilities will be quite vague at first because we’ve only just opened. We’re simply not able to hire a person for every job that needs doing. We’re all chief cooks and bottle washers here. We can’t offer you a good wage, either. But if-”

  “I’m in,” she interrupted me mid-word. “I can start straight away.”

  Alik in the far corner had pricked up his ears to eavesdrop on our conversation and was now doing a silent jig under the desk like an impatient horse going to a stud farm.

  “Don’t you want to ask what kind of wage we can offer?” I said. “Or your responsibilities and work schedule?”

  “I’d be happy with twenty-five grand for a start,” she said. “As for the hours, I already saw them on the door outside. We’re open Monday to Friday from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. The weekends are free. As for my responsibilities, it would be answering the phone, filling in contracts, greeting new customers, opening and closing the office and keeping the customers’ accounts. Oh yes, and also making sure we have plenty of water, tea, coffee and candy.

  “And instant noodles!” Alik added. “I meant to say, convenience foods...”

  “We won’t need them soon,” Stacy replied. «We’ll soon be up and running and will be able to afford hot meals in the local cafes and restaurants.”

  “Great,” I agreed. “On one condition.”

  “What’s that?” Stacy raised a perfect eyebrow.

  “Try to tone yourself down, will you? “At the moment, you’re so... so in-your-face seductive. Our customers aren’t rich and we don’t need an extra distra-”

  “I got it,” she interrupted me again. “That’s not a problem. I’ll put my hair in a ponytail and wear no makeup. I’ll dress a bit more soberly. I’ll be like a little gray mouse. All right?”

  Unfortunately, even if we dressed her in a peasant’s padded smock and one-size-fits-all pants, she’d still be just as stunning. But that way we could at least avoid her Smitten debuff.

  “Agreed. Thanks for your understanding. When do you need the advance?” I added, remembering her main requirement. “And how much?”

  “I could do with 50% by the end of next week,” she replied. “Look, we’ve got more customers! I’ll go and greet them.”

  That was quick. Apparently, despite her young age, she had a lot of life experience.

  Alik waited till she wasn’t looking and gave me a double thumbs-up. I couldn’t help smiling. The presence of this kind of beauty in your own firm can be very beneficial both for one’s male ego and for one’s... dammit! Not again!

  “Hello! How can I help you?” Stacy turned to the woman who’d just walked through the door.

  “Hello yourself. Who are you?” without waiting for the answer, the woman headed toward my desk. “Hi guys.”

  It was Vicky.

  “Hello,” Alik replied mechanically. “We’re fine, thank you. And this...” he pointed at Stacy, “this is...

  “Hi, Vicky,” I stood up and went to give her a kiss and a hug. “I’d like you to meet Stacy. She’s our new office manager. Stacy, this is my girlfriend Vicky.”

  “Nice to meet you, Vicky,” Stacy replied, tactfully tuning into the situation. “I’m Anastasia.”

  “Likewise... Anastasia,” Vicky squinted, studying the girl. She can’t have liked what she saw because her Mood plummeted into the yellow zone. She seemed lost despite her attempts to appear cool.

  “How are you, sweetie?” Vicky finally said, addressing me alone. “I’ve just finished work. I’m gonna drive you to the gym, wait for you to finish, then we’ll go to the supermarket like we said we would...”

  “Shit! I completely forgot!” I glanced at my watch, realizing it was high time for my boxing practice. “Sorry guys, I’ve gotta split. Can you lock up without me?”

  “Of course, Mr. Panfilov,” Stacy replied. “Not a problem.”

  How on earth did she know my surname?

  “Have a good session, Sir,” Alik joined in.

  “Thanks!”

  I unplugged my laptop, grabbed the gym bag with my gear, laced my arm around Vicky’s waist and led her to the door. “Bye, guys!”

  “See you tomorrow, Sir! All the best!” Alik and Stacy replied.

  What was wrong with those two? Had they decided to play the subordinates for Vicky?

  “Oh Phil, are you already off?” Veronica chimed, appearing on the doorstep. “Can I have a word?”

  This was quickly turning into a cheap absurd sitcom. “Sorry, Veronica, but I’m already late. Let’s discuss it tomorrow morning, whatever it is.”

  “All right, Phil,” she said, ignoring Vicky’s indignant wheezing.

  As we left, I could hear her greeting Stacy while Alik started his nonsense again, dropping things and mumbling “ma’am” like a drooling zombie.

  “Are you teaching them who’s the boss or what? What’s with all the ‘Sirs’?” Vicky grinned sarcastically as we walked toward the stairs. And why would you need an office manager? Are you snowed under by applications and flooded by phone calls?”

  “Maybe not snowed under but certainly flooded,” I replied.

  “Phil, why are you wasting your expense allowance? Is it so difficult to answer the phone or pour a cup of coffee? How are you going to pay all these people? I have my doubts that your altruistic business model will earn you millions. And by the way, who was that other girl who called you Phil? What’s with the familiarity?”

  “That was Veronica.”

  “What’s with this Veronica? Who the hell is she?”

  “Vicky, excuse me but you’re treading on dangerous ground. I really appreciate your advice, you know. But it seems to me that in this case, it’s jealousy talking. And you have absolutely no reason to. None at all.”

  “But still, who is she?”

  “Just a fellow tenant from the same floor.”

  “I see.”

  Her ‘I see’ was always the harbinger of a looming storm. I knew it well by now. This short phrase could mean anything — from blind fury to mortal offense. Whenever Vicky said ‘I see,’ it was inevitably followed by a long silence punctuated by monosyllabic answers to all my attempts to start a conversation and discuss the sore subject in question.

  Still, I’d rather have a nice happy home than a cold war and an iron curtain which was why I made another attempt to talk to her in the car. “Vicky...”

  “What?”

  “We really need someone on the telephone. Alik just can’t cut it. It’s just not his thing, to tell you the truth...”

  “Listen, I’m really not interested,” Vicky said, then immediately contradicted herself, “Why do you even need that filthy hood? You could have offered the job to me. I’m an experienced HR worker! Together, we could have made this joint a real success! Do you really think I wouldn’t have quit Ultrapak to help you?”

  I didn’t know what to say. The idea had never even crossed my mind. “Eh... You think you’d have agreed?”

  “No, of course not! What do you think?” she said, contradicting herself again. “But you didn’t even offer!”

  “Vicky, what’s up with you? I still remember the girl I fell in love with a couple of months ago. I couldn’t believe that such understanding, level-headed girls existed...”

  “There’s nothing wrong with me. My expectations are my own problem.”

  “Wait a sec. Do you want to say I’ve failed to live up to your expectations?”


  “You said it.”

  She braked sharply and expertly parked the car in a tiny narrow space on the gym’s parking lot. I’d expected her to pull away the moment I left the car. Instead, she killed the engine, unbuckled the seatbelt and climbed out of the car together with me. That gave me some hope. She might have been mad at me but she was still with me.

  The Kichiev brothers were hovering by the club’s reception.

  “Hi guys,” I greeted them. “Hi, Kate.”

  “Hi, Phil,” the receptionist beamed at me, taking my club card. “Here’s your key.”

  “Salam,” Zaurbek mumbled back to me half-heartedly.

  Mohammed gave me an almost imperceptible nod.

  “I’ll wait for you here,” Vicky announced, casting an angry glare at Kate, and went to sit in an easy chair.

  “Who are you going to wait for, Miss?” Mohammed asked. “For him?”

  Much to my surprise, Vicky didn’t leave his question unanswered. “Yes, him. Why? Who are you?”

  “Excuse my curiosity, Miss, but how can a beautiful lady like you wait for anyone?” Mohammed said, exercising his Caucasian eloquence. “Especially for somebody like him?”

  “Why, do you think he’s not worth it?” Vicky said with a smile that made me slightly uncomfortable. “Maybe you’d like me to wait for you?”

  “You don’t need to do that!” Mohammed said haughtily. “You just need to say the word, and I’ll drop everything just to spend one moment with you! Mohammed,” he proffered his hand to her.

  “I’m Vicky. Nice to meet you,” she continued to flirt with him for all she was worth, pretending I wasn’t even there.

  Of course I realized she was doing it simply to provoke and punish me. And still, no matter how hard I tried to ignore it, I felt my blood boil.

  “Vicky! Victoria! It means victory! What a lovely name!” he continued to push it. “Just say the word, and I’ll drop everything and take you to the best restaurant in town! Or wherever you want to go!”

  She laughed teasingly. “Anywhere at all? And all I need to do is say the word?”