Serge Nazar        

                                   American dream

                             A Russian in Los-Angeles

                            An American in Moscow

                                A Russian on Miami

                                Stavropol  2011

                                             Dedicated to my wife Irina,

                                             my daughter Sinionella

                                             and my son Dima.

                 ©Serge Nazar. “American dream”. 2011

                                       American dream

                              (A Russian in Los-Angeles)

     A Russian can have an American dream too, though he may not. All his life Oleg Tumanov dreamed of the free and beautiful life, advertised by Western radio stations and Hollywood films. He entered Moscow Institute of Foreign Languages, later renamed to Linguistic University, to become an interpreter and to go abroad, where he could just escape and ask for a political asylum. The plan was ruined by his elder brother, who graduated from the same Institute and escaped to the West before he got abroad, though he promised to wait. Oleg was blacklisted and denied access to foreigners or foreign jobs for all his life. So from that time on he could only dream of America and of the fall of communism. But dreams, supported by logical human desires, often come true. Communism was irrational and all Russians got tired of the ideological lie, that’s why it was finally abolished practically without any resistance from anybody by the authorities themselves. They also dreamed of a free and beautiful life, like in the West, and decided to change party cards to big money and become capitalists. Some American dream was common to all Russians of that generation and for some of them it soon became a reality, though for the rest it turned out to be fatal misery and a new ideological lie.

     Ordinary people got no money from the common state pie because authorities deceived everybody during the reforms and stole all common property by scum privatization, devaluation and skyrocketing prices. People lost all their money and even any hope for a better life. Former American dream changed to despair and hate both to the new rich and to Americans, who were considered to be the cause of the total destruction of the previous good life.  But Tumanov was an optimist by nature and didn’t ever give up his dream, even when there was no chance (freedom or money) to make it real. His dream developed and became stronger. It inspired him for …Now I skip details and come to the point – a Russian in Los-Angeles, or Hollywood, the American factory of dreams.

                                             Ninja

    Ole Tuman walked down the empty night street in the suburb of the City of Angels. But he saw no angels around and could rely only on himself. His sixth sense prompted him about some unidentified danger, hiding in the dark and lurking to catch him from behind as he passed by. He knew that it was not the right place for a walk, but life was dangerous for you anywhere, if you have something to loose. He had nothing and walked on.

     A police car flashed from the corner and suddenly stopped.

     - What are you doing here so late? – asked the policeman. – Show me your papers.

     Tuman silently obeyed.

     - Olaf Tuman? Where do you live?

     - I’m a newcomer, searching for a friend.

     - OK. Beware of robbers. You are provoking them here. Better be quick.

     - Thanks for your warning. I’m a lucky man and I hope to get through without problems.

     The car melted in the dark and he continued his walk. But the policeman was right. A group of suspicious blacks was waiting for him under the tree.

     - Come here! – shouted one of them.

     Tuman approached.

     - At this time and in this place you must pay taxes for passing.

     - How much? – wondered Tuman.

     - One hundred percent, - laughed the black bull.

     - And what are the taxes for the knife? -  Ole put his hand into the pocket.

     - I see, you are armed, – laughed the bull even louder. – Give it to me

     - It’s a gift. No taxes supposed.

     - It’s impolite to walk here with a knife without my permission.

    Tuman draw out the hand and showed the knife. It was simple but beautiful. And Tuman looked very quiet and confident, demonstrating no fear and intentions to surrender. The bull understood it at once and drew out a knife of his own. No one talked but all started to move, making a circle around them with self-conceited smiles. The bull was the first to strike, but the newcomer was the first to pierce him in the throat. Others had guns, Ole knew it as sure as his own name, but they had no time to use them. With swift circular dancing movements he cut their throats too. He was an alien to America, but not unfamiliar with its customs, thanks to Hollywood products on Russian TV. If Olaf is unwelcome, he will become Oleg again and settle the problem in his Asian manner, as a ninja, though without a sword, because of the detectors and attentive police. The knife was a substitute but very effective, due to his reflexes and technique.

     Ninjas hide their faces to leave no witnesses and evidence. But if the face is not hidden, they had to kill all, who saw their fight. That was the ancient rule, Oleg didn’t break. He wiped the knife with the dead man’s clothes, washed it in a fountain, burned the micro particles of blood on the blade with a lighter and went on. But still something was wrong; he felt it by his skin. Someone saw his actions and now followed him at distance. When Oleg clearly realized it, he stopped and turned back, looking carefully at the bushes and trees. Soon he found the spy. Some one was hiding behind a trunk. Oleg came closer and saw a girl, frightened to death but still curious as he saw it in her big shining eyes. She was black and mysterious as night. He didn’t understand why, but the impression was so strong that he wondered, what he should do. The rule dictated caution, but the sixth sense stopped him and he asked her with a smile:

    - Are you a black panther? 

    - Why do you think so?

    - You move like a wild cat in the jungle. I didn’t notice you at once. So you are a good hunter.

    - If you mean the organization, I’m not. But I like cats too.

    - Why do you think I like them?

    - You like me.

    - Sure?

    - Otherwise you would kill me immediately.

    - It’s never late, - laughed Oleg. – You are too clever to stay long alive.

    - They said the same.

    - Who?  

    - The guys you danced with. One day they would kill me for I saw too much and never obeyed. So you saved my life.

     - Really? You are trying to relax me and to convince that we may be friends. So that I’ll let you go. But I caught you spying. And that’s a problem.

     - I just liked you. You moved very beautifully like a dancer and blacks like dance.

     - Really? You are flirting with me. But I’m not the right man for your skill.

     - You can finish with me later, if you decide so, but now why not have a rest? Come on with me. I live alone.

     - Why?

     - I came to Los-Angeles to become an actress and now I work as a dancer in the night club “Omega”. And by the way I’m Helen.

     - I am Olaf, Ole. He really relaxed. That sounded and looked true. Besides he came here with the same idea and the girl reminded him of his own difficult fate. Russians can be compassionate in spite of all rules and combat reflexes. That was the mystery of a Slavic soul and left the Black Panther alive.

     At her home he cleaned the knife again with the gas flame, when she went out of the kitchen. Then they drank coffee, listened to music and talked about trifles. He had a British accent and she guessed he was not an American, but he didn’t explain her anything, letting her to imagine his story on her own.

     Finally, she relaxed too and even started to joke.

     - Would you sleep with me before killing?

     - Are you sexy?

     - As a dancer I am. Or I would earn nothing, and for cinema a virgin won’t do too.  In America virginity is not popular and is considered pride.

     - I know it from films but I don’t think it is right. Sex is not the meaning of life. There is no need for girls to hurry. Better spend time on something more useful, education, for example, or religion. 

     - That’s British morality, America is different and if you want to achieve success here, you must change.

     - So you insist that you are really sexy? I don’t see it in your eyes. Dance is dance and life is life. They are not the same. I think you are a virgin. You are too ambitious to surrender to feelings and desires.

     - How do you know it? – flushed the girl.

     - Intuition. So you can’t buy your life by sex with me. And I’ll have to kill you when you sleep.

     - You sense of humor is not American. You don’t fit our standards and you’ll loose. And you don’t sound like British, who are you in reality? Tell the truth.

     - I can find the job of a bodyguard. He must be ruthless. That’s Asian standards and I came from the East.

     - For a Russian you are too smooth, they are all awkward like bears.

     - You are right I’m no longer a Russian, that’s why I’m here, though I was. So you didn’t guess.

     - Really? – It was her turn now to be surprised. – I’m curious even more. Russians were our competitors and ordinary Americans don’t trust them even now, I mean immigrants.

     - I guess it, inertia exists everywhere and it’s natural. That’s why I’ve changed my name. In Russia I was Oleg.

     - I could hire you as a bodyguard too. I’m not rich but my job is dangerous because too many men want you after they see you dance and I often have troubles. How much do you need?

     - I need a place to live and I need to look like everybody around me.

     - OK. One of my rooms is your, I’ll buy all food and your dress. And pay you one thousand a month.

     - Not much, but I agree, before I find something else. And what’s you final decision about sex?

     - As you like. But it’s free, - she flushed again. – I sell my body only to spectators and that’s enough.

     - So you don’t insist.

     - No, that’s not a part of the deal. I just like you and I’m frank about it because you see it yourself. But I didn’t practice sex before and I’m not as brave about it as I look. So if you leave me as I am I would be grateful. If I really decide to start, I’ll tell you myself. Just come to you one night. At my age all girls do it, and why not try it with you? 

     - I hope I won’t stay long at your home. Now I have no job and no friends, but I can earn everything and I’ll do my best. And I want to part with you as a friend too.

     - OK. I’m no longer afraid and I want to go to bed. Happy dreams!

     - Good night.

                                         Hollywood

    Next morning Ole asked Helen about Hollywood. How she tried to get there and with what results. She made acquaintance with an actress in the night club, who helped her to show her dance to a producer.  The impression seemed favorable and he promised her to call later, when they needed a dancer for some film. Now she just waited and prayed about luck.

    - Can I show him how I fight? You saw me in action and can now recommend.

    - You want to become an actor too?

    - Are you alone so clever?

    - That’s why you left me alive. You needed my promotion.

    - I saw a kin soul and sympathized.

    She laughed, embraced him and kissed in the cheek. That was a great relief, because he was quite American and now she knew what to do. Success was the key to a Russian too. To make sure he won’t change his mind she called her acquaintance, Lulu, and arranged a meeting with the producer. He was on a vacation and had some time. Besides he needed some entertainment and loved fights.

   Lulu took them to the cinema boss in her car at the appointed time and Ole entered the house with a calm smile and pace of an experienced show man. The producer’s name was Mike Thompson and he introduced him to a calm smiling Japanese, instructor Ito. He offered a handshake, but Ole made a bow at a safe distance and continued to smile. Silence wasn’t long, the Japanese attacked and missed, because Ole turned on one leg and passed him by. Mike applauded, satisfied with the start. Ito repeated his attack and this time Ole met him with a heavy kick to the belly and slapped his ears with palms. That irritated the instructor and he uttered a furious cry, trying to beat the opponent with a quick series of various strikes on all levels. Ole blocked them with ease and kicked him to the face in a jump. Ito fell down and Mike stopped the duel.

        - Enough! To be continued in an hour in the studio with cameras. I’m not sure you will repeat it later and I don’t want to miss the cadres.

     Ito was really angry or looked so, because with Japanese you never know, what is his real face and what is a mask. Maybe, he was just trying to frighten Ole or playing a role in the film. Any way Mike was satisfied and promised to call later, when they needed a new unfamiliar fighter for some film. So Oleg had just to wait and pray.

     When Ole in the evening came with Helen to the night club Lulu met him with an enigmatic face.

     - Don’t tell here about the casting.

     - Why?

     - They will envy you the chance and besides nothing is sure. A promise is not a contract. I know it better than you. So don’t mention it anywhere.

     - OK. I’ll as mute as a fish.

     - But don’t be deaf and dump to their wishes. If you like to succeed here, listen and praise.

     The club was popular among actors and musicians. Helen introduced him to her friends, dancers and singers, barmen, waiters and guards. Then he sat down in the corner and started to watch the show and wait for Helen’s dance. In half an hour Lulu’s man left and she came to Ole with a glass of wine.

    - Not drinking? – sat she to the table.

    - And not smoking, - continued Ole.

    - You are a sportsman?

    - Sure. To keep fit I eat only babies and young girls. Like Helen and you.

    - Oh, you are dangerous. And I’m alone today. My boy is too busy, making money, so he has no time to spend it and I have to do it for him. Would you like to help?

    - Well, that’s alluring. Order me some fruits. I like pineapples and grapes.

    - Never miss your chances. They are seldom repeated.

    - Tell me about your acting. Is it difficult, interesting?

    - Ye, both. I’ve just started, only in two films, but I like it more than sex. It thrills me to the bones, when I see final results. I’m not a great success, but I’m noticed and have many proposals.

    - And does Helen have a chance too?

    - You see, she is too shy. People like cruelty and blood. Or sexy blonds like me. If you become merciless, you get your chance too.

    - I am usually, with some rare exceptions.

    - No exceptions. You didn’t smash Ito at once, though I think you could.

    - Why do you think so?

    - He was noisy and you were serene. You have reserves you don’t use.

    - It was a show. Mike wanted to enjoy it longer. A quick end would disappoint him. There would be nothing to cast.

    - That’s right. But I like decisive men, crashing their enemies with one blow.

    - Thanks for the advice. Next time I’ll act this way. 

     He hadn’t to wait very long. Lulu’s man unexpectedly returned and saw her flirting with Ole. Or he thought she was flirting, for she herself wasn’t conscious of it at all. He came to them and grabbed her by the hair.

    - A bitch!

    - What’s the problem? – rose to his feet Ole. – Calm down and leave her alone.

    - A bustard! – retorted the jealous (and drunken) money-maker.

    Ole slowly moved to him with a stone face and sharply knocked him to the chin. He relaxed the grip and waxed to the floor. Lulu kicked him lying and snatched Ole at the arm.

    - Come on! I want to go home.

    - I must wait for Helen.

    - She’ll finish only in three hours. By that time you’ll be back.

   In the car she explained that she hated men beating women and that with her lover everything was finished.

    - Let him swallow his money. I earn enough myself. I’ll find someone else, less jealous and more polite.

    - Sure, you will. Blondes are very popular here, especially with blue eyes.

    She laughed.

     - It’s a complement?

    In ten minute they were at her home. She didn’t give him a moment to think and draw him to her bedroom. Then she stripped off her clothes and pushed him to the bed.

   - I know that Helen is not sexy. But I am. And you are the right man for me. So show me the fire. I feel that you can. I liked you at the first glance.

   And he burned her to ashes like only a ninja could, nearly to death.

                                              Money     

    In America money is a symbol of manhood. If you can’t earn it sufficiently, you can’t count on female respect and love. Maybe, exceptions to this sad rule exist, but if you check them up, they’ll turn out to be a lie or a self-deceit. Lulu’ brain worked ridiculously – if Ole was very efficient in the bed, he must easily earn money too.

     - What can you do besides fighting?

     - In Russia I was a night guard.

     - How much did you earn there?

  He laughed.

     - In Russia you can’t become rich, if you try to earn. People become rich there by steeling only. That’s called democracy, reforms and is arranged on the state level.

     - Here if you have a strong character, you can have big money too. So you must become a millionaire.

     - Have any idea how?

     - No, but I’m sure you can. By the way I’m not a blonde, that’s only my image for Hollywood. Tough the eyes are really blue.

     - Now I earn as Helen’s bodyguard. She is afraid of men in the club, chasing her after her dance.

     - She told me. That’s good but you can’t make this way the money you need. After Helen you can protect someone rich but he won’t pay you millions too.

     - That’s why I don’t try. Helen for me now is enough.

     - I also like her and prefer to the rich women, I could make friends with. But you need a perspective. You must be ambitious, because you are a man. I would never love a looser, but you are not this type, your poverty is just Russian inertia. I must teach you to become American and I shall.

     - OK. I can write a film script about ninjas.

     - Wow! That’s great! Yes, it can give you real money and I’ll play in it too, a ninja’s lover.

     - You can! – laughed Ole. - If you are not jealous.

     - I am not, but why is it important?

    - In the East rich and powerful men prefer polygamy. A ninja can love two or three women at a time.

    - Ha-ha-ha! I’m glad you are not a ninja. I don’t want to share you with any foolish dirty bitch. I’ll scrabble at her eyes and tear her hair away. I’m not jealous, but I’m very possessive. Like all American women. That’s not an emotion but the brain.

    - And if I’m a ninja?

    - Oh. I see. You mean Helen. You like her and smell sex. She is inclined to start with you. That’s interesting for a Russian because she is a virgin. I read Russian writers and I know how Russian men feel about it. They are just curious as virgins themselves.

    - I’m not curious about Helen’s first sex, though I really like her. She is a sleeping black panther. And I’m curious about her future, will she become a star? 

    - I’m not yet a star and I don’t know about stars. They are too far for me, like stars in the sky. But you are right that Helen is unusual. So I’m not jealous about her personally. If you want to sleep with her go ahead. She won’t possess you so she won’t compete with me.

    - I don’t think of sleeping with her, but I’m afraid she thinks about sleeping with me. And it’s impolite to refuse. 

    - Oh, you are a gentleman. And I’m not a lady. I’m a practical American girl, wanting to make the most out of her relations with a man. I want a role in your future film and I won’t share my future money with any thief, trying to steel you from me, after I teach you how to make it for both of us.

    Helen knew that Lulu caught Ole, while she hesitated, because they gossiped about everything and exchanged hot news about their adventures too. So after several days of their common life in one flat she decided to take her share. As she promised on the first day, she came to him one night to make love and to pay for her life, which was always at stake and on the verge. Because she was a black girl among black men with guns, who thought they had the right for everything they wanted and would never hesitate to shoot anyone, who annoyed them with pride.

    This way life for Ole became more emotionally complex. He was not a Japanese polygamist samurai or a Muslim sheikh. As a Russian he felt some confusion, but he was in another country and old rules broke down. He told Helen about the idea of a ninja film and she also like an American girl asked him for a role. Then paid him his thousand dollars in advance and the next night came to sleep with him again.

                                         Inspiration

    The Dream Factory was very near and very far, because Ole didn’t work there. So he had to find his own way. The source of his inspiration was his own life, but it needed to be interpreted in a Hollywood style, fresh but acceptable for the existing standards and tastes.  He wrote first ten pages in one day, describing his first adventure in the USA and first impressions.  To continue he needed contact with American reality, interaction with life around him and for further material and inspiration he went for a night walk again, this time in the disguise of a woman.

    After several attempts of night gangs to rob and rape him, stopped with his knife, he decided to make the game more visual and went to Los-Angeles Chinatown, where people could fight better and where he could find a sword. Chinese regarded ninjas as rivals and competitors and the trip promised to be a great fun.

    In the dark street a group of yellow teenagers asked him for a cigarette. He answered with thin unnatural voice.

     - Smoking kills.

     - Mocking too.

     - I am not mocking.

     - We are not deaf, you are.

     - Excuse me, I have a sore throat.

     - We are not fools, you are teasing us. What do you want? Better pass by. Or we’ll teach you a lesson.

     - You are kind boys, letting me go is so generous.

    The teenagers laughed and pushed him on.

     - You are just crazy. Walking here at night alone, do you have much spare money? We are not robbers but some others may not like it.

     - Frankly spearing, you are right, I’m looking for trouble to test my gun. Can you show me bad boys, who can offend a lonely woman? Maybe you have enemies?

     - You are really crazy, but that’s funny. Come on. There is a gang here and they take our money. If you shoot them, we’ll laugh for a week. But if they kill you, that’s your own problem. OK?

     - OK.  I’m really funny and crazy, if anyone irritates me, so you won’t be responsible for my death. Come on. Show me your friends.

          The Chinese gang entertained itself in a bar. The boys pushed him inside and disappeared. Ole silently smiled with fat red lips and stared at them with big colored eyes. They stared too.

    - What are you doing here? Searching for trouble? – A thin ugly man with a scar and a pipe at last rose to his feet.

   Ole answered with a nod and put a one hundred dollars banknote on the bar, pointing to a bottle of wine.

    - Wow! Queer money!  I’ll call police. And we must confiscate it as evidence, - and he stretched the hand.

   Ole took the money back and put it into the pocket. The gangster looked offended. And stretched hid hands to Ole’s throat, but received a lightning kick between the legs.

   The fight was long because Ole didn’t kill them with his knife. He only kicked them and avoided their strikes. He needed a sword and intuition prompted him to wait. Ninjas don’t use guns to avoid noise. Shoalin fighters don’t have strict rules on the subject but don’t like noise too. And all Chinese respected and imitated Shaolin. They wouldn’t shoot a crazy woman, beating them in honest fight; they must solve the problem in a traditional way. Finally, they realized that the enemy was serious and shouted for support. An old man appeared from the back room and to Ole’s relief and delight he bore a sword.

   His eyes were sharp like blades and he moved like a cat, very cautiously and softly. He looked like a real master, but what did he do here with the gang? Possibly, he was their teacher and he had to pay for their sins. When he attacked with the sword to the neck, Ole made a swift low bow, approaching him in one sweeping move and plunged his fist to the solar plexus. He dropped the sword and in an instant it was in Ole’s hand. The next scene was very visual and cruel – heads, flying off the shoulders, and pools of blood. “That’s it, - thought Ole, - The real Hollywood style. It’s a pity there no cameras”.

   That night he cleaned all Chinatown of regular gangs and threw the bloody sword away. Then he burned white gloves and female clothes, put on the dress from the bag and completely satisfied went home. Helen thought he was with Lulu and didn’t ask anything. Lulu was her first hope for success in Hollywood and she didn’t envy her the man, who belonged to nobody. As clever women they felt it deep in their hearts and didn’t quarrel for nothing. And he really belonged to the wind and the Moon, ever free and alien to the world, he lived in before passed to the next. Will he stay in America for a long time? Only God knows, but never tells.

                                            CIA

    One beautiful morning Mike called Ole and invited to his small city studio, used for his private experiments, for another round of casting. This time his opponent was a typical American with a gun. He explained that he was a patriot of Western combat traditions and offered a thousand dollars bet that he would stop him with a rubber bullet, before he reaches him by his fists. Ole nodded and looked into his smiling eyes on the other end of the room. Before he raised the hand, Ole snatched a vase from the table and threw it directly to his head. Then jumped and kicked his hand with the gun. The rest was also quick and rough, according to Lulu’s advice.

   Mike was surprised and a little bit disappointed. Ole understood that he made a stake on his defeat. But the ordinary American, when he came to his senses, looked unusually glad.

  -  Nick, - said he at the handshake.

  - Olaf, - return the smile Ole.

   He invited him for a drink in a cafe, because Mike was busy with next visitors, and explained his satisfaction.  

  - You see, I need a bodyguard for my daughter. And I know that you search for a job. We are friends with Mike and I can help you, if you help me.     

  - What’s your daughter’s occupation?

  - Oh, nothing serious or dangerous. She is only fifteen and she likes night parties. You should look after her there and on her way home.   Though there some delicate aspects of the task.

  - What?

  - She is too young for sex and I need you to scare away her boys. So you must be present at the parties too.      

  - How? Teenagers wouldn’t permit it.

  - That’s my problem. Or better say profession. I’ll put there a camera and you’ll have to watch her from the car.

  - Oh, you are a detective.

  - That’s another delicate question. I’m a CIA officer. I needn’t anyone in my office to know about your job. Like teenagers they wouldn’t like it.

  - OK. But I must warn that I’m a Russian.

  - Don’t worry Oleg; I’ve looked through your file. I wouldn’t ask an American, because they all have relatives and friends and you are completely alone. That suits me best.

  - And how can a CIA man risk his career by any contact with an unchecked person? Your chiefs can suspect me of spying.

  - Oh, you know our psychology, - laughed Nick.

  - No, I lived in a totalitarian state and I know the habits of security services.

  - We are not totalitarian, - smiled Nick.

  - But you are a super-power. And your security system must be equal.

  Nick slapped him on the shoulder and opened his bag, pulling out some device.

  - You are clever and it makes my proposal easier. This is a lie detector. I’ll check you up and add the results to your file. After that you’ll be able to contact CIA men without problem. That’s secret but official. It will open you many doors in this world and you won’t regret it, if you are not really a spy. That’s a joke. No one suspects you, because you don’t have access to any secrets and don’t contact suspicious men.

  The test didn’t take much time. The questions were both simple and shroud and Nick was satisfied again.

  - You learned fighting in a private school, that’s the main question about you, and you don’t like our Russian analog.          

 - No comment, - smiled Oleg.

 - We don’t like comments too. I do not recruit you, that would require more careful examinations, but for a quiet life in America for you it’s enough. And you can guard my daughter. Criminals don’t frighten you, that’s another result of the test, so I offer you ten thousands a month.

 - Do you earn so much in your agency?

 - It’s not my money. Her grandfather is a businessman and he loves her even more than me. It was his idea to find a Russian for her. You should teach her your language too. He has Russian investments and plans to send her there for work. Beside you must teach her Russian culture and psychology, she must become an expert on Russia.

 - Well, that’s easy, if she is not lazy. Girls at her age prefer entertainment to studies. 

 - She respects karate and Hollywood. If she likes you, she will accept your help. Not mine. And I’ll help you with Mick, in my own interests.

   Lucy, Nick’s daughter, was clever and naughty. Her first joke made Oleg really smile.

   - If you were a spy, we would escape to Russia with Daddy’s secrets.

   Nick smiled too and promised her a car, if she masters Russian with Oleg in a year. Besides she flirted, openly and boldly, testing on the newcomer her skill. He joked in return and smiled and finally, besides Russian, she started to study karate. Men like beauty, women like force; she was a small woman and soon they became friends. She entertained Oleg, as they all called him in this family, with funny stories about her schoolmates and teachers and he introduced her into her possible life in Russia. With boys she flirted too, but fortunately for Oleg without attempts of sex. So he needn’t rush into the house and intrude into private life.

   Though once she drank too much and a boy tried to undress her. Oleg entered the room and politely offered his help. The seducer ran away and he took her sleeping to the car and home. Nick evidently saw the cadres but said nothing. It was useless and they could only quarrel. It was not his style and the incident was forgotten.

   Ole spent with Lucy two hours a day besides parties, three times in a week he met with Lulu and at nights slept with Helen. Sex for him was a question of energy, if he had to spend it on a woman, he did it, but if the woman was not ripe as Lucy, and there was no necessity, he just didn’t, though he liked her too. With Helen it was based on sympathy, with Lulu it was a common adventure, based on common interests in life, or more exactly in art, cinema. With Lucy, it was Platonic love. Before him, as her father warned him, she was really sexy and on the edge of abyss, otherwise he would not hire him at all. But with Oleg she became quite different, boys lost for her any significance and her sexual drives were sublimated.

   Ole looked thirty, though was older. He spent many years in yoga meditation and spiritual training and didn’t spend energy and time on girls. Certainly, he fell in love in youth, but after he got control over senses and emotions, his attitude towards the opposite sex changed. He didn’t become a monk, he could appreciate beauty and practice sex, but he didn’t any longer fall in love, i.e. desire a woman and loose his head. That’s why initiative in these new relations was on the other side. He only accepted the sexual offer without becoming attached and tied.

    One day Lucy realized her feelings and became conscious of her new desires, but as a CIA-man’s daughter she didn’t show Oleg anything, hiding her love deep in the heart. On the contrary she stopped flirting with him and became well-organized, polite and cold like ice.

                                              Success

   Nick’s influence on Mike seemed hypothetic, because cinema in America was independent from state security considerations and the only judge was financial success. But one day Mike invited Ole to Hollywood to assess a new film with combat scenes. In the middle he unexpectedly saw himself, fighting with Ito. It was just an episode, but the film was interesting and Ole was grateful for the start of his cinema career and the chance for his future success. 

   After the séance Mike appointed him the time for the next casting, already in Hollywood. Ole met there smiling and polite Ito, two Chinese actors and several Americans. Mike directed his film himself and involved Ole in the game from the start.

   - I heard you are a Russian Mafiosi. Where is your money?

   Ole raised his brows.

   - You are a bad Russian, remember and feel it. Or I’ll become a bad American for you. 

   - You mean the role?

   - Ha-ha!

   - Boys, kill him before he kills us, - he turned to American guys. – Show him, who is the boss here. Quick, quick!

   Sure, several policemen could stop one gangster, that was the plot, but Ole resisted more effectively than expected and the scene was ruined, together with scenery and American faith in the law and themselves.

   - OK, boys. That’s not the end. We’ll save the cadres but you must take revenge. Russians can be very, very bad, but the main hero always wins. Who is the main hero here? Show me your teeth and fists in action. Come on, come on.

   The main hero pulled out a gun and Ole disappeared in the crowd. Then fell on him from behind and kicked him from his legs to the dirt. Plans are plans and life is life. Americans knew it even better than Russians and after the third failure to beat Oleg Mike gave up his attempts and changed his mind.

   - You are a British tourist or a Her Majesty’s agent, imitating a Russian Mafiosi or a spy. So we won again. That’s the happy end and cash. I feel it with my nose so theses three scenes become the main structure and now your job is to fill it with the rest.

   The boys caught the idea and added guns, bullets and blood, in quantities, sufficient for the thrill, they all as Americans liked.

   His girl-friend in the film was Jenny, a black-haired green-eyes kung-fu fighter from CIA. She thought he was a criminal and tried to kill him but failed and fell in love, though refused any sex. In the end when she learned that he was an ally, in the airport she pulled him back from the plane and they went in her car to the ocean. There on a lonely beach with stormy waves they finally kissed and fused in a very vivid scene of love. Sex for Hollywood was a vital necessity and these were the last cadres.

  Ole enjoyed her company because he always enjoyed beauty and tuned his instincts to the wave form a beautiful woman, who desired his love. He didn’t differentiate game and reality and for the time of casting felt himself in love with Jenny, or Kate, as was her real name. So the scenes were as natural as Mike could only hope and the film looked a real hit.

   After the casting Kate left for New-York to her family and they parted in the airport like in the film only with another end, or not quite another, because she gave him a farewell kiss in the lips.

    - It was fine. Hope we meet again.

 In the film sex was certainly imitated but kisses were real. And this was just one more but very strong and deep as in the cadre, though there were no cameras to fix it and no spectator to appreciate. Possibly, she played as Ole, not differentiating game and reality and maybe it was the secret of success for all. Ole didn’t know it and didn’t dare to ask. This was just his hypothesis and left it to himself.

   When the film was televised, Mike confessed:

  - I don’t believe in good Russians, though there are Russian dancers, musicians, poets, artists etc. Talents are exclusions, other Russians, especially rich, coming to the USA, are a nuisance.

  - I know it, because I left Russia because of them. And in Russia I was exclusion too.

  - You break the rule. And I want to break it in our show business. My next film will deal with this problem and you can play in it yourself.

    Ole got one million for the first film and wrote seven more pages of the script. Success inspired too, as love fired love. Kate sent him a letter in the Internet, he answered and they both understood that it is not the end. But what was ahead? Only mist. She was invited to another film and left for Japan. If they met now, sex would be inevitable, under the impact of their realistic cinema love game. But will she remember him after the next success?

                                        Russian mafia

     Sooner or later other Russians in America would know about him and Oleg was ready both for interest and for trouble. After an interview about his role and his life, where he mentioned his origin, that was possible in any moment and he decided to accelerate events, not to loose the initiative, by a visit to a Russian club.

     He went there alone like on a war raid. The steward recognized him immediately and soon he had a noisy company of fans around him. The singer-girl devoted him a song and all applauded him standing up. They were all more or less successful, others just didn’t come, and he was accepted to their circle like an old friend.

   In an hour or two they switched to their ordinary topics and left him alone. He walked around and listened to familiar words and themes. As if he never left for the USA. Finally, he decided to check his intuition and went out to the street. Someone should follow him to make closer acquaintance and he wondered who it would be. Yes, he heard some pace behind and a voice:

   - Hey, Mr. Tumanov, just a moment!

  It was the singer-girl. She asked for his phone number and let him go, because her work was not yet over. But there was somebody else, he knew it for sure, though couldn’t see any one. At the next corner he saw. There were four of them and they were waiting for him. The next conversation was in Russian, here is the translation. 

  - Hello, superstar!

  - I’m not super yet.

  - Don’t be shy. We know better. And we think you need our help.

  - Why?

  - In America all stars have some roof, secret support, or some problems with competitors and racketeers. Usually, Russians pay to Russians, Italians to Italians etc. We as Russians are your natural friends and …

  - How much?

  - Oh, we take only ten percent of the income. Like Catholics for the Church. Some take thirty percent. Some can take all.

  - Did you see me fighting in the film?

  - Certainly.

  - Do you think it’s a game?

- Ye, it’s a film.

- You are mistaken. I don’t need any support, so thank you for you proposal, gentlemen, and good bye.

- Do don’t understand and you are new to America. What can you do against several guns?

- I’ll think of something, when I see them.

- OK. Here they are, - and they showed their weapons.

- It’s a friendly demonstration or a serious hint?

- A hint. Timanov suddenly jumped to the back of one racketeer, grabbed his hand with gun and pressed his finger on the trigger, targeting it to others. They shot too but hit only their companion, Oleg’s shield. So everything was over in seconds. And he quietly walked on. In a minute a police car buzzed by and stopped at the corner. But he went on and on, unrecognized and unremembered by any one.

   The singer-girl phoned him next day and told about the murder near the club. She advised him to avoid such places without bodyguards and with them too. The Russian club was occupied by businessmen; people of art gathered in another place. If he wanted, she could accompany him there and show the way. He accepted her invitation and she picked him up in the center in her own car.

  Her name was Tanya and she came from Moscow five years ago. Unmarried, but not alone, lived with two other girls in one flat and worked as a secretary at daytime. She had red hair, but it was colored from blonde.

 - You must have an image here. And mine is a fox.

 - What does it mean?

 - Fire and energy, wit and trickery. Blondes are lazy and self-conceited. I was such in Russia and then I cut my past and went here for luck.

 - American dream?

 - My own. You are lucky here and I want to become like you. Or more exactly like American girls in films, who marry millionaires. By the way are you married?

 - No.

 - And you must have at least a million for your film, - she laughed. – I know the prices for everything, and you are the man I need. Ha-ha-ha! It’s a joke. I have a rich boy-friend and he is OK. I’m not going to change the horse at the finish. This car is his present. He is Tom, a pilot and his father owns an air lines company. I told him about you before we met to avoid misunderstanding, and he wished me good time with you. He is really kind and never jealous a bit, so I trust him too. You know, Russian wives are popular in the West, because we don’t demand as much as their women. And we work hard.

- So he’ll be richer than me?

- Ha-ha-ha! He is not alien here and I want safety and stability. Russians risk and leave bad reputation. I don’t want to fear all my life. Did you notice that I speak only English with you? I want to be assimilated. 

- That’s good. I can relax with you, because I’m the same. And I don’t need another girl. I have already enough.

- Two?

- How did you guess?

- No one complains for one.

- And what do you think of Russian mafia?

- They are fools like all criminals and end in prison or get killed. Mafia is similar everywhere. They can control only those, who are scared. Police here is more powerful than in Russia ant there is FBI. If they buy a policeman, that’s not final. Everything is checked and sooner or later they get caught, or catch a bullet like yesterday.

   The arts center, they came to, was more intellectual and safe. Tumanov interested people there too, but they were more calm and reserved. They discussed not him personally but art in general, mostly books. Like Moscow intelligentsia. It reminded him of his youth in Moscow, when he was a student.

- Russians are the same everywhere I belong to this type and enjoy the company.

- I also like this place, though I’m nobody and they noticed me only with you.

   Then her Tom came too. He didn’t know Russian and they left. Oleg said he would get home himself and called Lulu. She was curious and wouldn’t mind to have a look at Russian intellectuals, though she herself wasn’t intellectual a bit. She came and took him to dance, then tasted wine, Russian cuisine, talked to some writers about Russian literature and said she was tired and wanted to go to bed.

- With you, - added to his ear and they went back. – Don’t buy a car, it’s too dangerous. Better call me, whenever you need.

                                          Shaolin

     Mike preferred original sources and for some new kung-fu material for his films decided to visit Shaolin monastery in China, maybe, to find new fighters, or just new ideas of plots. Naturally, he took with him Ole as a consultant and an intermediary.

     Monks demonstrated their martial art and the miracles of chi, inner universal energy, which can protect the body from any harm – a spear, pressing to the throat etc. That was already known from many documentary films and Mike wanted something else. Chinese showed beautiful fights with diverse complex strikes and Mike liked it more. Especially kicks in jumps.  They were very spectacular and he filmed all he could.

   - And can you repeat their trick with a spear to the throat? – asked he Ole.

   - Never tried and I don’t think I should. There no spears in Russia or America.

   - Than do you believe in chi?

   - Certainly, it’s absolutely real.

   - Well, can you do anything like that at all?

   - Maybe, something, when it’s unavoidable.

   - And in a film?

   - Not sure. It requires a real extreme situation. The energy sleeps inside and awakens only in response to a real mortal threat.

   - It’s a pity, - disappointedly closed the topic Mike.

   This night Ole had a bad dream, some shadows with red eyes, like demons, tried to drag him to a cave and sacrifice to some goddess of death. Suddenly he awoke and realized that something was wrong in reality. Someone was standing behind the door and he was hostile. Then a key turned in the lock, the door opened and someone entered the room. The fight was short but hard. He was a very effective warrior and nearly killed Oleg with his sword and missed only because Oleg became invisible. He stood in the corner and watched the man. He slowly turned to Oleg and moved in his direction. Evidently, he felt him and there was no way out but … He struck him at distance before he approached with an impulse on astral energy. The intruder collapsed and lost consciousness.  

     Oleg switched on the light and looked at the fighter. It was the Chinese champion of the competitions, shown to Mike the day before. Oleg pushed his sword with the leg aside and tied the man’s arms and legs with belts. Than he slapped him on the cheek and the man came to his senses.

   - What’s the problem? Did you take me for someone else? 

   - Sorry, it was a mistake, - agreed the man.

   - Really? You don’t know the rooms in your own monastery?

   - I know, but I had to test you.

   - Why? I don’t take part in your competitions. I’m a guest.

   - Your boss wanted to awaken your chi and asked me to frighten you to death. I would never kill you. It was a joke.

   - Why did you obey him? He paid you or just convinced?

   - Both. I was curious myself after the boss showed your film. He donated a large sum to the monastery and it was impolite to refuse.

   A nock at the door stopped their acquaintance and Mike entered the room. He smiled and silently offered Ole a paper with a pen.

   - Sign it. It’s your permission to shoot the scene.

   - Or to shoot me?

   - Frankly speaking, cameras are already here and I just want to take them out. 

   - Than why do you ask me to sign it?

   - I don’t want to break the rules. We live in democracy and everything must be fixed.

   - OK. And what’s the price of this democracy?

   - It depends on what I’ll see there. But surely you won and now you are in the team for the film, with brother Lea. And he nodded to the Chinese on the floor.

   In the cadres of their fight Oleg disappeared too. So it was not hypnoses. The astral strike was a black ray from his hand to Lea’s head.

   - Why is it black and not white like in films about magicians? Is it real chi or black magic? – wondered Mike

   - Neither. It’s destructive astral, a warrior’s individual will, a weapon like a sword. White light is constructive and serves for support and healing. If I sent a white ray, he wouldn’t fall. I save white light for friends.

   - But is it possible to stop an attack with white? Or films lie?

   - Possible, if you buy the attacker with your energy, like with dollars. But that’s not my style.

   - Ninjas prefer black clothes, -added Lea, - and they are crueler than Shaolin. That’s their psychology. Did you study in Japan?

   - You are close to the truth. I like ninjas for their will and decisiveness, but I’ve never been … Продолжение »