The love of a bandit or an affair with a Gypsy

О книге

Автор книги - . Произведение относится к жанрам остросюжетные любовные романы, криминальные боевики, крутой детектив. Оно опубликовано в 2022 году. Книге не присвоен международный стандартный книжный номер.

Аннотация

Moscow of the nineties is a terrible time of strong people. Survivors. The split of the USSR, perestroika, inflation and bandit groups that flooded large and small cities. And even in such a dashing time there is a place for love and true friendship. This criminal romantic story is not only about bribes, corrupt police and bandits in power, this story is about people thanks to whom the words honor and dignity have not lost their power.

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Читать онлайн Valentina Basan - The love of a bandit or an affair with a Gypsy


Chapter 1

The fact that now May was strongly reminded of two things: the approaching of long-awaited vacation on the calendar and summer collections in stores.

Valya walked to the subway hungry, cold and angry. The devil pulled her to sit on this protein diet. The result is zero, at least on the scales, but there is an abundance of irritation and negativity. Well, it is impossible, it is impossible to starve in this climatic zone, the body must "heat" itself nine out of twelve months a year. Mom called on Viber: "It's very cold here, have you put on a hat?"

"I put it on," said Valya, pressing her icy ears alternately to the collar of her icy coat.

It started snowing. Very nice, Valya thought. Of course, I didn't take a hat, but my boots are winter! Clever. Then she thought and added: "I should get a pair of sweaters from the mezzanine, it's good that knitted socks are always at hand. The month of May, after all.

The snow was melting on the wet asphalt and it was pleasing. At least there are no snowdrifts, Valya thought, watching the unfortunate man handing out leaflets at the subway.

– Give me two, said the compassionate Valya and thought that only kind people take a leaflet not because they are interested in a discount in an intimate store around the corner, but because they feel sorry for the giver. The advertising agent beamed. His eyes read: "Well, girl! Well done! It can be seen that she takes a discount for herself and her friend! Or maybe just a good person."

The leaflets flew into the nearest trash can, but before that, tactful Valya intuitively left the promoter's field of view. Why upset a person, let him think that he is doing something necessary and useful.

The descent to the subway necessarily passes through the caste of elite beggars, where grandmothers are as sharp-sighted as a hawk, and young people have more gold than you have at home. And not Chinese. Chinese gold is also good – Valya quickly reassured herself. And suddenly an accordion started playing nearby, Valya's feet carried her to the sounds of the charming "Murka". Where Valya had a craving for Chanson and dashing 90m is unclear, but the fact that she loved it was the most inexplicable fact in the world for her husband. Valya frantically rummaged in her pockets – empty. It's inconvenient to leave, Valya thought under the heavy and unpleasant gaze of the underground artist. Valya opened her purse, something tinkled sadly. Valya began to look for the cause of the sound. Damn, the inner metal lock, not that. Valya reached into her purse, the harmonica player openly mocked her with his eyes, saying, "walking around like beggars." So, 500 rubles in one piece of paper. Hey, man, I'm sorry, I'm going to sing "Murka" so much for 500 rubles that mom will cry. And already under the pejorative gaze of the artist, Valya turned around to shamefully retreat, like the French near Moscow, when she saw 10 rubles in her pocket. Hurrah, thought Valya. And with the face of a man who invented a cure for all diseases, Valya threw a trifle into the cap. The accordion player nodded condescendingly. And a phrase from Ilf and Petrov's "Twelve Chairs" flashed through Valya's head: "I'll give you more at the best of times." Better times will come soon, however, this does not apply to street children”.


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