Coincidence with someone's phone number is just an accident.

Monday is a hard day. The working day was not over yet, but Dmitry was already getting ready to go home, saving the work file and closing all open programs, as here, the phone rang on his desk at all. Someone from his own, on the inside, would have called, otherwise the phone would come to life on the desk of the receptionist-secretary.

- Hello.

- Dimka, “bullet” will you write?

“Zhenya, old horseradish. No to early give birth.

- Yes, I'm actually going home, my wife has a birthday tomorrow. Need to get ready.

- Come on, come on. Tomorrow - not today, but at the same time note. I have already called Shuriku, promised to come to six.

- Ok, now, think about it. - and Dmitry hung up.

"What is there to think about?" To write "- so" to write. "

He poked the mouse at the bottom of the monitor. The pop-up menu showed the time: 16:47. One could hope that his wife was still at work.

"Nine" - access to the city, passed right away, it only remained to run your fingers over the buttons.

- Hello, the association "Success."

- Good afternoon, can you hear Luba?

- Wait a minute.

- Hello?

- Lyuba, this is Dima. Lyuba, we have a cargo arriving today, I will have to meet.

- I do not like it.

- Do I like something? This job.

“Okay, when are you coming?”

- I will come. When when. How to finish and come. Do you think I want to hang around here? Prepare dinner, just in case, maybe early free.

"By the morning to finish."

- Good. At night, the streets do not hang around, take the car.

- Yeah, well, bye, kiss.

- Until.

Dmitry hung up and kicked off the table. The chair swiveled around the room.

- Julia, can I have a moment? Faster Faster.

The girl jumped from the loud phrase, almost a shout, and ran to his table, shod one foot in the boot, the other in the shoe.

- What happened, Dmitry Nikolaevich?

- Yulenka, can I kiss you?

- Oh, you scared me so much, I thought something had happened. And again you are with your jokes.

- Julia, jokes, of course, is not the most important thing in a man, but you yourself do not allow yourself to show yourself from all sides.

- I'm going home.

- Never! My wife is coming now!

Julia waved her hand. Dmitry got up from his chair and went into the next room, where Eugene was sitting.

- All right, what will we drink?

- Oh, right like that.

- Maybe brandy? Down in the morning was, in a kiosk reluctant to run.

- Come on. And take a snack? One hell before the store will have to go.

“C'mon, there's something else left in the fridge from the lunchroom, and we'll buy some nastiness in the shop.” It's cold, what are you. I will not go outside.

- Well, persuaded. Do you have money?

- Enough, then give it away.

Looking up to the first floor where the small shop was located - the same stall, only in the building, Dima managed to embrace and pinch Julia on the way, who had gone home. Downstairs, he bought the last bottle of Prazdnichny, uncoupling Chinese noodles and a chocolate bar for Yulechka, so as not to be offended. And then: the girl is nothing, maybe when ... But she didn’t allow herself to kiss her cheek, for which he slapped her goodbye on a round ass. A trifle, but nice.

- Till tomorrow. Come if you get bored.

Shurik, surprisingly, was not late and arrived at five to six. All detained Eugene, writing down some project. While he was working, Dimka distributed the “clearing” on the printer and increased it to A3 format on Xerox. It remained only to lay the table in the conference room, arrange the chairs, turn on the TV. It was quite sitting down and watching Shurik opening the brandy with a knife, he collapsed, hit his forehead with his hand and went to get a deck.

Here, just appeared Eugene.

- Well, I thought you had everything ready.

- Now, I ran away, what a quick one I found.

Dmitry quickly went through the cards, discarding trifles to sevens.

Finally, everything was ready, cognac was poured into glasses, cards were distributed “to the ace”, which fell to Zhenka.They sat down, Shurik pushed the sheet and entered the names.

- What are we writing?

Zhenka preferred “Leningradka”, Dmitry “Sochenka”, Shurik didn’t care, or maybe he just didn’t show it. They wrote alternately both. Usually until the morning, at worst hours to three at night. This time they decided to play Lenin-grad. To be honest, pure “Leningrad” or pure “Sochenka” could only be called their game with a stretch: every time they stipulated rules. And the price of whist was quite conditional. Losing Dmitry preferred to put money on the table, winning, at best, went to the kiosk for a drink.

The first distribution was celebrated with a crystal call. The rhythm of the game was measured, there was little distraction, it was not a game at four, when the apprentice could easily go to the toilet, or, conversely, pour all the tea, make sandwiches. There was only enough time to pour brandy into the glasses. Nothing extraordinary happened: neither the two miners played in a row, nor the steam trains. There was some interesting film on TV that diverted some attention. In a word, they had a warm company, good brandy, but they didn’t have enough zest to stir up the game that was beginning to subside.

They sat down almost exactly at six, when it was already dark outside. At ten finished brandy and water in a kettle.

Shurik, welcomed by general exclamations, took another bottle out of his bag, but then they decided to make a small, “technical” break: take some water and adjust their natural needs. In the corridor, a goat turned off the lights, it was dark and silent in the whole building. Their steps on the parquet floor filled the silence with alarm and anxiety. In the toilet in the window of the moon full moon, so I did not even have to fumble the switch.

On the way back, Dmitri, carrying a kettle, stumbled in the dark and nearly spilled water. The game went on. The more time was on the clock, the more boring it became. All had a mountain and a bullet about equal, the same thing happened in whists. When the second bottle ended by two, Shurik asked:

- What do we do? For one more?

Dmitri thought about this much earlier. Of course, it was possible to catch a car and go home, but what would he say to his wife? Took the load and washed with joy? And I gave cognac to my head - I didn’t want to go home at all. If Julia lived alone - you could go to her. One or all together, is another question. But she lived with her parents.

“To whom else can you fall at three in the morning?”

- Let's call someone.

- Clear root. Question: to whom?

- Well ... what's the difference. To someone.

“No, that is impossible,” Shurik's tongue wobbed more than others.

- Yes, elementary. Well, what: finished writing?

- Fuck with you, come here a piece of paper - I count.

Dmitry grabbed the cards, added “trifles” to them, resorted them.

- Here. Listen here. Draw two cards. Pictures and tens - zero, ace - unit, the rest as is. Six cards - that's your number.

Shurik just waved his hand.

- Brad.

- So what. What we lose: there is nothing to do anyway. Or go home?

“No, no, not that.” Come here card.

Two.

Zhenka was busy counting the whists, pulling it out without looking.

Five.

Dimka moved himself and removed the top.

Ace.

"When ...