After releasing the project of a mega mall which had taken Saltikov half the winter, there was a long lull at their company. Was it due to the crisis or something else (about "something else" Saltikov hated to think, although such thoughts flitted through his mind every now and then), but customers were bypassing his company for some reason. His active, business-like nature couldn't stand complete idleness, and this prolonged calm plunged him into a real depression. As the mega mall revenue had had to be split with Nechaeva even though all the dirty work had been done by Saltikov only (not to count Negod exploited by Saltikov for a song), he had run out of money very soon and now was on a tight budget. He again started to get at Nechaeva about the stock, but not in order to buy her share. Now his goal was to sell her his own.
"Not even if you were giving it away," was the reaction, "It's something I really don't need at the moment."
"But you pulled me into it!" he said with irritation.
"No reason to panic, Andy. Now we don't have orders, but we will eventually. Business is a seesaw."
"When is eventually?" Saltikov said in a desperate tone, "I couldn't just sit there penniless doing nothing. How can you possibly not understand that?"
"Go back to CIty Project" suggested Nechaeva, "The salary's not big but it's regular. At least you will get something to do. Anyway, you are of no use hanging around here like a coconut." she added contemptuously.
"What about the company? It's running at a deficit as it is," he grumbled.
"Ask them to hire you on a part-time basis. As for running at a deficit, it's mostly because of renting this office. You and your posh ways cost us a pretty penny," said Nechaeva looking around the solid oak-furnished study with just as solid leather lounges and huge gold-framed portraits of Putin and Medvedev that hung right over Saltikov's desk.
"So what? Did you want to receive our big customers in a barn?" he said back.
"For our big customers you also hired that your blondie as a secretary," she said caustically meaning the mentioned earlier Lena Fokina.
Saltikov averted his eyes. He understood that Nechaeva had guessed what he had actually needed the secretary for.
"Take it easy, man," Nechaeva patted him on the cheek. "I don't care about the secretary. But her salary takes money, too, and she's about as useful as a dug-up body."
"I understand," Saltikov said with a guilty smile, "But I can't just put her out on the street, can I..."
"Well, that's harsh. Why not just pull her off the payroll for a while? And then we'll see.."
"And what about me?"
"You go back to City Project. I'll take care of the company. And if some customer turns up I'll let you know..."
Saltikov didn't have the heart to go home. He feared the forthcoming conversation with his father. He hadn't felt like giving his son money for his business at the very beginning, for he had known that Andrew was still inexperienced, young and foolish and might just throw that money away. Father had insisted on him to work for City Project at least for one year, improve his skills and then... But Saltikov had talked it over with him, showed him the business plan made by him and Nechaeva. Father had felt that there was a catch, and that sly woman was going to use his son, but on the other side of the scales there was a bleak prospect of renting flats with the crazy Moskee holding him back. The business with Nechaeva was definitely better than that. And so he had assigned the necessary sum of money to his son.
Now when his business was running into the sand Saltikov realized that he had hit a rough patch too. And, as it usually occurs to selfish petty young people , he blamed all but himself: Yankees who according to him had caused the financial crisis in Russia; his own parents for giving birth to him in this hole and thus condemning him to eternal struggle for a place in the sun. He blamed Nechaeva for making a buck off him. But Olive he hated worst of all. She had ruined his whole life, broke all his plans and finally dipped him in shit by writing that stupid book. Of course, the book itself could hardly be connected with the disappearing act of all his customers and project orders, and intellectually he knew that, but deep in his heart he felt the poisonous vapor of her hatred reaching and destroying him through a thousand of miles.
"She would probably be glad if she knew..." he thought angrily as he was passing by the arch under which he had last seen Olive, "Hell to the no, I won't give her the pleasure, the fucking bitch. I'd rather eat dirt! You never could take me, no way!"
Saltikov called at the Island cafe where the legendary forum meeting had been held the previous year. Now it was dim and empty inside. He had wanted to order some whiskey, but he only had enough to pay for vodka.
Boozing alone at the empty table in a corner he reflected on the fact that he was no better than some Negod or Chrome White. At some ways they actually surpassed him - at least, their looks were much better. Yana loved Negod just the way he was even though he would dawdle along and sleep twenty four hours a day. While Saltikov was loved only for a reason. When he was on the crest of a wave making money hand over fist he got love and admiration. But take it all away from him - who would he be without money and success? A wretched ugly dwarf and no more...