The next day, just before nine o’clock, the chief editor came to the office. She was surprised to see the editorial team sitting at the collegiate table on a Friday morning.
Alex and Adam came right behind her.
“Good morning, gentlemen!” She greeted them.
“Not good morning, but bad morning…” Michael began to complain about sleeplessness. In addition, regardless of the presence of the editor, he stretched as if he was still in bed in his bedroom, not at work.
“Shut up, Michael!” Thomas sitting next to him, also sleepy, tried to bring him to order. "Dude, you barely got up, you're already complaining. You were supposed to change! Shave! Brush up!”
"Shh..." Michael put a finger to his lips. “I have a headache! Don't yell behind my ears!”
“Gentlemen, I have a surprise!” The chief editor announced. "There's a package on my desk in my office. Can one of you bring it in, please?”
Hearing this, Alex reacted quickly. After a while he came back with a huge box that he put on the table and began to unpack.
“Maybe a good bottle?” Michael with hungover wondered aloud.
"Shit, calm that fool down!" Simon said straight into Thomas’ ear.
“Calm him down yourself! I had enough problems fifteen minutes ago to wake him up, I had to put him in the shower to wake him up, and now I have to calm him down? You’re joking!”
“You're the one sitting next to him!’ Simon hissed through clenched teeth.
“Sure!” Thomas replied, not hiding his agitation.
Having no choice but to look at Michael stretching again, who had clearly not yet realized he was in the editorial office, he addressed him firmly: "Dude, you're at work! Do me a favor and don’t move for five minutes! Okay? And just shut up!”
“Are you talking to me?” Michael asked, surprised, as if he didn't know what his friend was talking about.
“Yes. I'm talking to you.” Thomas hissed right in his ear.
"Dear gentleman, a very big event is happening; sports competitions of journalists are held today.” Announced the chief editor.
“Yeah... so what?” Michael became interested.
The editor, ignoring him, continued:
“The income from the entire event will be donated to the newly created family orphanage for the purchase of equipment! A noble cause, gentlemen!”
She looked at the faces of her subordinates, but didn’t notice even a bit of enthusiasm. She guessed how they felt at that moment. Before entering the editorial office, she spoke to the guards and the concierge. She found out that they had ‘painted’ all night.
“Glorious!” Michael agreed.
“Our editorial team has been invited to participate in the competition, just like every year. We have accepted the invitation. Here are your outfits, gentlemen!” She pointed to the unwrapped package. “At a quarter to ten, we are going to the hall of the Academy of Physical Education, specifically to the swimming pool!”
“What? What pool? What competition?” Michael said, yawning. Then he felt a sharp pain under his ribs.
“Sit quietly!” This time Alex, sitting on the other side, began to silence him. “We're in enough trouble! You have to shut up!”
“I'm going home! I'm tired!” Regardless of anyone, Michael announced loudly.
“Sorry?” The chief editor asked, amused to see him acting like a kid. “Mr. Johnson, did you say something?”
“Nooo...” Michael groaned, both of whom Alex kicked in the ankle, and Thomas sitting on the other side, until he turned green with pain. Moments later, Adam stood behind his back, intending to intervene.
"Gentlemen..." Alice began handing out turquoise swimming trunks, the same towels and the same colored flip-flops. “These are our representative colors!” She proudly lifted the turquoise towel. “Let's represent our magazine with dignity!”
“In such pants?” Michael said, carefully examining the shorts that Alex had handed him a moment earlier. “What a lovely turquoise! In this… ” He sneered, but didn't finish because he felt the pain again, this time under his ribs.
Adam was standing nearby, serving him the coffee he had brought and silencing him in the process.
“What the hell?” Michael gasped as he breathed some air back into his lungs.
"Coffee, my friend!" Adam said slowly, setting a large yellow mug full of liquid in front of him, blocking the view of the chief editor.
Meanwhile, Thomas put his hand over Michael's mouth, begging him not to say anything more.
“With milk and sugar as you like, my friend.” Adam added as he made a barrier between Alice and Michael.
“Any comments, Mr. Johnson?” Seeing what was happening, the editor said. “I am listening to you? I am open to any comments and valuable suggestions.” She continued, irritated.
Michael was silent. No, he had not only a headache, but also aching ankles and ribs.
"You can swim without pants, if that's more comfortable for you, Mr. Johnson." She said ironically. "We've got forty minutes for coffee and a light breakfast!" With that, she got up and headed towards the kitchen.
Journalists, tired of the superhuman effort which turned out to be the completion of the painting and the all-night, drenched party, looked at their bathing trunks and towels.
“Michael, are you swimming today without turquoise pants?” Simon found a little humour, trying to cheer his friend up.
“Get out, Simon! I will fuck you up!” Michael threatened him.
Eventually everyone started laughing. Only in this way could they drown out a colleague who resisted and complained louder, who got up with his left foot today, and in fact, Thomas pulled him out by force from the sleeping bag, because he would have probably slept until noon or longer.
The chief editor was also in a bad mood, they saw that. They knew that another moment and she would have unscrupulously put Michael out the door.
The storm was in the air, they could feel it. If possible, they wanted to prevent it. They had already experienced the show of strength on their part on their own necks.
Since she sent Carl to Geneva without prior notice, without any preparation, and forced all of them to do hard physical work by trickery, she is so ruthless that she will do absolutely anything to get rid of them as soon as possible.
They supposed she had many more surprises up her sleeve and was just waiting for them to give her any excuse to use them.
At twenty to ten, in complete silence, they began to leave the editorial office. They were waiting at the main exit of the building. It soon turned out that not only the chief editor and all the females were going to the event, but also Nicolas Williams, who had just parked his car in front of the building.The bosses cunningly waited for the male half of the team to leave, then followed right behind them so that one wouldn’t have the opportunity to get missing and disappear somewhere around the corner unnoticed.Journalists really wanted to get lost, but assumed that the consequences could be severe.When they entered the sports hall belonging to the Academy of Physical Education, they lost the rest of their good humor for the day.“Damn it! What are we doing here? There are journalists of all local mass media, and maybe even national ones.” Simon commented. “And there are even those damn spectators!”The huge sports
Soon, the journalists of the ‘Man’ began to clap. Their witch in a turquoise suit looked great, standing next to the competitors warming up their muscles before the start. But instead of warming up, Alice stood almost motionless, looking at the opposite edge of the pool.The boys, looking at her, had no doubts that she spent her free time not like them, in the Tavern, but working hard on her physical condition. However, they were aware that having a beautifully built body does not mean that it can swim well.They began to argue that the competition was controversial, not very fair, as there were two women and four men taking part in it, and the distance was as long as two lengths of the pool.For a moment they forgot about the hatred, anger, the fragile male honor and the painting she forced them to do. They really hoped that their chief editor not only looked great, but she could swim, and that'd be good enough.“And racing on electric
Alex didn’t object when someone called over a doctor who was watching over the players. The diagnosis managed to bring everyone down. The medic decided to take the injured to the hospital for observation and X-ray. Adam standing next to him, the culprit of all the fuss, looked no better than the injured Alex. He didn't want to knock out his friend, he just wanted to distract him. Now, he felt remorse and had a moral hangover. Faced with the requests and pleas of his colleagues, Alex ended up sitting on the stand with an ice pack on his head. It was the only thing he could do for his colleagues. Stay on the sidelines until the end of the tournament. Observe and support them in spirit. The last discipline of the competition turned out to be extremely dramatic. It was attended by the entire ‘Man’ team except for the injured Alex and Alice, who sat worriedly next to him. The injured person didn’t feel well, but kept a cool head and didn’t move from his se
The boys, tired of the murderous rivalry at the event, the previous night’s all-night party and climbing the stairs, decided that before they went down to get new equipment, they would first rest for a while. They hoped a miracle would happen and the elevators would repair themselves, or it would turn out that there was no breakdown at all, and they wouldn't have to climb up to the seventh floor again. They sat in silence, happy in the depths of their souls; there was a weekend ahead of them, two long days that they absolutely wanted to devote to rest. Only Michael, burgundy with rage, complained about the bad luck that haunted him: all the evil, injustice, meanness of the world in the hard life of an honest, conscientiously working, and underappreciated outstanding journalist. He muttered under his breath about the terrible headache that didn’t allow him to think rationally, the terrible pain in his back and nagging muscle soreness that made it diffi
Michael planned to share his problems with his friend, the only person he could trust and who always had unnecessary cash. Just tonight, he was going to talk to Alex about a small loan so he could settle the bills. He knew that when Alex hears the amount he urgently needs, he will at least sit down, if he has something on. Besides, he will have to patiently listen to his friend's critical opinions about his recent excessive and unnecessary expenditures at work and in the inn. He will once again be forced to make promises to Alex that he won’t keep. However, an unexpected problem occurred. Immediately after the competition, Nicolas had taken the knocked out Alex to the hospital, where, after the tests, the doctors decided to leave him under observation. Michael hoped it was just a preventative procedure, and not anything serious. He found himself in a trap, it was not proper to talk about money even with his best friend in the hospital. The deadline fo
Meanwhile, Michael ran to open the door. That was her. He had no doubts whatsoever. Through the door, or rather its slits, he could smell her sensual perfume.“Good evening! I'm sorry for being late!” She said with a smile.She didn't look like the magazines’ witch at all. She looked different, quite ordinary in blue jeans and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up almost to the elbows, and a sophisticated collar that covered her long neck.It was only now he noticed that she had a high, beautiful forehead, which she usually covered with bangs, beneath which lay her exquisite eyes and long eyelashes. He had never seen her like this before. Completely ordinary, but beautiful.“Please! A bottle of good French wine, vintage 1977!” She said as she handed over the elegantly wrapped bottle.Without waiting for an invitation, she stepped inside."Take a look around the house." Michael choked out. "And I'll take care
“Would you like something to drink?” Michael's voice came from the kitchen.“Whiskey with ice, double please. Great working conditions.”“I don't work there!” She heard the voice of Michael approaching.“I usually write in the bedroom, in bed. I don't like the library, it reminds me of my father and grandfather.”“Michael, do you work at home?” She was really surprised, and began to laugh out loud. “I thought you wrote your amazing columns twenty minutes before the end of each issue.”“You are absolutely right!” He also laughed.There was no denying that he was not an overzealous scribbler. As befits a seasoned columnist, he writes only when he has to, at the last minute.‘A big plus for Alice. She is perceptive.’ He thought. For appreciating his excellent columns. He wondered if she had any hints to herself in the last issue. Probably yes.
Next time maybe she should invite him to dinner. Yes, he could already envision it. She would rather invite him to the most expensive restaurant in town than cook something herself. These are the ways of a successful woman!“I'm sorry!” She said, because it was so impolite of her, although she was not at all sorry. “The cream is, I mean was, really great.”“Let's go to the living room. Everything must have cooled down by now.”Michael walked out slowly first with a tray full of bowls and platters.“Would you like some help?” She asked.“No thanks. I don't want it all to end on the floor.”“I'm not clumsy! On the floor? Why?” She didn't finish speaking.She was speechless with amazement. She had heard many amazing stories from Alex about Michael’s extravagant, futuristic greenhouse, which only lacks growing cucumbers and tomatoes and a jacuzzi, but the storie