The favourite cup

The day promised to be awful. Besides, he with his sound producer and friend Luis Rodriguez got drunk 'a little bit' yesterday (could it be said 'a little bit'?) while celebrating Dieter's future direct hit for Ricky King, so the consequence of the celebration was reflected in his head in a way of impending split in thousands of pieces. Well, the life was really wonderful but in this dull morning he felt not on the highest level of blooming mood. If only it was the only reason to sever all ties with his unlucky life at that moment… His song for Ricky King was an all-prize lottery. He thought so in any case. But his late hope, his song, his favourite creation collapsed, and it meant (as always!) to start everything from the outset. And it wasn't the end of his misfortunes.

Early in the morning the boss sent for him and during a solid hour was explaining to him how incredibly lucky he was, working at this wonderful company called Hansa. But he hasn't justified hopes of the leadership yet, collapsing one project after another. The brightest example for it is his latest song for Ricky King which again…

- Enough! - Dieter interrupted chef's outpourings, went out and slammed the door with a loud bang. Of course, he knew he wouldn't get away with that but he really didn't care now.

But before he had time to close his own door the sound producer assistant, Michael, opened it.

Dieter cursed to himself, turning to him with a look promising no good.

- What?

- Boss, - babbled he in a low voice. - I've been working here for four… sorry!.. five months…

- And what? - Dieter frowned.

- And… and…

- Still waiting for reply.

- I want a pay rise, - he blurted out without taking a breath.

- What am I to do with it?- Dieter hissed, hardly managing to control himself.

- But you're my boss, you should…

- I should nothing, - Dieter interrupted him threateningly. - Get away!

- But…

- Get away! Or…

Not waiting for significant continuation, poor Michael preferred to save his ass from Dieter's study.

Dieter just took a deep breath as the telephone rang. It was his secretary. She said she felt sick.

It was the end. Finally, he'll have to make coffee himself! It was unfair after all of these undeserved tests coming like a bolt from the blue. Dieter took his favourite cup with an eloquent inscription 'Boss' and dragged himself reluctantly to the kitchen. It was not easy to fill this damned small capacity with boiling water with his hands shaking. Heavily sighing Dieter drew his cup up to the edge of the cook-table and overturned this fragile creation accidentally.

- Shit! - Dark liquid splashed to his boots, and his favourite cup was broken to pieces.

Dieter, in utter vexation, threw the pieces away with his foot. Strongly disappointed, he returned to his room. Now he wanted to do nothing, just send everybody to hell and forget everything. The matter took a bad turn. Well, what does he have? Suddenly he recalled that youth with whom he had been trying to make something original during last two or three months. He deserved to be called immediately for doing something worthy. Why should I be haunted with all these failures? Without thinking twice, Dieter picked up the phone and dialed the number of his partner.

The handset was keeping silence during a long period and Dieter was going to disconnect, but finally a sleepy voice said:

- Hallo.

- Thomas, hi, it's me!

- What?

- Don't you recognize me? It's me, Dieter…

- Yes, I got it. Hi, Dieter. What's the time?

Dieter glanced at his watches casually.

- Ten minutes past eight.

Deep sign was the only answer to him.

- Is it too early for you?

- I should think so!

- Sorry, Thomas, I have some problems here.

- So what?

- My latest song has failed, my secretary feels sick, I've got a headache and, finally, my favourite cup… Do you remember, the one with the inscription 'Boss'? It's broken. And I have no possibility to make even damned coffee for myself! Can you imagine?! I'm feeling I'm going to die right now! My throat is dry! Thomas, you have to come; we should do something for our future career.

- When? - Thomas`s voice sounded without any hint of enthusiasm.

- I think… How long does it take you to come here? - And not waiting till his partner says something. - Maybe, by eleven o'clock.

- What??

- Twelve o'clock I said. That's it.

- So early??

- You're going to sleep away all your life! Hurry up, please. I'm not going to wait till death! Do I speak with clarity?

- O.k., I'll try.

- You won't try, you'll do it!

And before Thomas tried to object he threw the handset. Let this idler try to be late! I'll strangle him! Something inside of him was resisting to such treatment of his mate and, moreover, began telling him that he was not right and, as a matter of fact, he would prefer to treat him in absolutely different way… but Dieter cut off these seditious thoughts immediately. They have common work and nothing else. That's all. Dieter glanced at his watch again, unwillingly having caught himself at thought that he was counting hours till his partner's arrival.

Time was hanging heavy. Of course, it would be nonsense to expect from this peculiar boy being in time. But if you consented to twelve, it would be barefaced impudence (верх наглости) not to appear at three! Moreover, after all of these fucking events! If he could only dare to arrive now, he would be regretting about it to his dying day! What the hell involved him into that? Fuck, even can't drink a cup of coffee.

Suddenly the door was opened and the boy appeared. Dieter was on the point of saying something that might kill unlucky visitor but met his eyes and could not utter a word. Dieter was always afraid of an expression of these deep eyes, framed with incredibly long lashes. In his thirty he still was afraid of such stupidity like long lashes! Hm, taking into account that they belonged to a guy… But there was no wish to think about it.

Being stopped up at his beginning, Dieter was trying to look grim.

- Do you know what time is it now? - His voice sounded really sternly.

- Sorry… - Thomas evidently became confused. - I'm sorry. I've been looking for a new cup for you. But just have a look…

Thomas extracted something packed into cellophane and handed it to Dieter. Dieter mechanically unwrapped the bundle and stared at absolutely ridiculous pinky-white thing.

- What is this? - He asked with impenetrable expression on his face.

- A cup. You said that you had broken yours, didn't you?

- But…

- I hope you'll treat me with coffee? -He added with a sly inflection in voice.

Being unable to say something against this innocent request Dieter was making his way to kitchen again, where the pieces of his previous cup still were scattered. Dieter absentmindedly kicked them aside, inviting his partner to enter. Thomas had his own cup with him and Dieter filled both with aromatic hot drink. The new cup obviously gave him no rest and he hardly imagined how he could use this idiotic thing. At the same time, Thomas was sipping from his coffee from time to time, keeping innocent expression on his face. Dieter tried to drew away his attention from this damned cup switching over to work.

- We should release an album… hm… I think within three months or four. Your constant delays hampered the progress of business, - he managed to sound even earnestly. - We should work harder with no breaks and negligence. We should win the race, we should conquer the world with our music, our attitude… hm… But you're not listening to me at all!

Thomas jerked up his head, as if he was awakened.

- I'm listening to you attentively.

Dieter glanced at him with a suspicion. It seemed that thoughts of his interlocutor were far away from this room and his words in particular.

- You are constantly being late, you're trying to avoid any kind of work, you don't think about…

- I've understood you at once, - offence was heard in his voice.

- But you do nothing to improve the situation.

- I`ll do.

This talking obviously irritated Thomas, and he was offended. Dieter turned the new cup in his hands and noticed how nervously Thomas jerked. "He's afraid of breaking his present, - Dieter thought with rage. - What a foolish thingamajig!"

- O`k, Dieter, I`ll try to meet your requirements, - he added without any hint of enthusiasm, putting his cup aside. -If you want, I can sing right now.

The last sounded like a favour and made Dieter angry even more.

"What does he permit himself?!" - Dieter would like to throw him out and forget about his existence forever. Just to not realize his intentions Dieter spoke through set teeth:

- Today I have no time for you, let's postpone it till tomorrow maybe.

Thomas looked dumbfounded.

- But it was you who called me early in the morning and demanded me to be here promptly!

- I've changed my mind, I'm not ready yet, - Dieter was controlling himself with his last ounce. Strange inexplicable rage was accruing in his heart. He felt that if he in that right moment didn't get rid of his partner he could tear him to pieces. And he wasn't able to explain the reasons of it.

However strange it was, Thomas uttered no word and left his studio.

Being not himself with anger, Dieter caught the cup, going to throw it against the floor. By chance his hand was shuddering and the cup slipped out and landed fluently upside-down. Dieter's attention was attracted to a tiny heart drown on the cup bottom with rosy nail varnish. Dieter gasped, staring at it. He slowly picked his present up as if it was from crystal and brought it to his eyes. His heart was hammering in his chest, shrinking with sweet thoughts. He wiped the cup dry with all care he was able, keeping his eyes glued to this precious thing. The cup seemed to be an incarnation of beauty and elegancy. Dieter hardly restrained himself from kissing this divine work of art.

Next day when he was drinking his coffee from his new cup, the secretary asked him:

- You have a new cup, boss?

- Yes, I do. And my coffee tastes delicious, - he answered with pleasure.