Fleur de Lys

Sergey. I do.

Anna. Just kidding, never mind.

Sergey. I can state with complete certainty: I do like you.

Anna. Goodbye.

Anna leaves. Sergey is left alone.

Scene 2

24 hours later.

Fleur de Lys Art Studio. Panoramic windows overlook the main street.

Sergey’s room.

Sergey is alone in the room. He is dressed in an Armani suit and is sitting on an unmade convertible bed. He is holding an unlit cigarette in his mouth. His hands are moving over the papers on a coffee table. The room is miserable, the furniture squalid. The sofa bed is surrounded by neglected cardboard boxes with books, a clothing rack, and an old, stringless guitar. Empty bottles, litter, and cobwebs are scattered around.

Sergey. Where the hell is it? Shit! [He sweeps all the papers off the table, rises to his feet, and walks up to the window. In an ashtray, there is a crumpled business card.] Bingo! [He dials the number].

Marina’s studio is empty. There is clearly a renovation work in progress. The landline rings. When it does three rings, one can hear a key turning in the lock. Marina rushes inside, holding a large stretched canvas. She runs to the phone and takes the call.

Marina. Hello? [Pause.] Oh, fuck! [She drops the receiver into its cradle.]

Sergey. Is she sleeping or something? Bohemians, dammit … [He takes out a wallet, extracts the last money, and throws the wallet onto the floor. He sits silently for a moment, then dials the number again.]

Marina. Fleur de Lys Studio, Marina speaking. Go ahead. Hello! Hello?!

Sergey. [Remaining silent.]

Marina. Hello, can you hear me?

Sergey.No. [He hangs up.]

Marina. What? … Hey!

Sergey paces the room.

Sergey. Ah, get your shit together, have some guts! You need this job. You broken-hearted fool! Start a new life. Fight. Do something! (Pause).

Sergey. What shall I do? What is my first battle? With myself? Ah, screw it! [He tears up the card and tosses it aside. His mobile phone rings.]

Marina. Did you just call me? The caller ID showed this number.

Sergey. Yes, I did. I mean, no. Yes!

Marina. What a nut job…

Sergey. So, hello. May I speak to Marina?

Marina. Marina speaking. Who are you?

Sergey. My name’s Sergey Arkhipov.

Marina. Who?

Sergey. Igor Frolov, a friend of mine, gave me your card.

Marina. Frolov?

Sergey. He said you were looking for a designer for your new art studio.

Marina. And what does it have to do with you? (Pause).

Sergey. I’m an architectural designer.

Pause.

Marina. What’s your name again?

Sergey. Arkhipov. Sergey Arkhipov.

Marina. Never heard of you.

Sergey. I used to work… still work only by referral. Last week I came back from Sofia. Planning to open an architectural bureau here.

Marina. Oh, right, that rings a bell. Frolov told me about you. Was it your wife who took your seaside villa and yacht in the divorce?

Sergey. Apartment and motor boat, actually. Well, that’s history.

Marina. [Aside.] Well, aren’t women smart?

Sergey. What did you say?

Marina. I said you can come today, anytime. Fleur de Lys Studio. 40 Lenina Street. Left of the entrance to the Grand Avenue Hotel. There is no sign yet.

Sergey. I’ll be there in around an hour. See you.

Scene 3

Fleur de Lys Art Studio.

Marina sets up the canvas on an easel and starts putting the room in order. The front door opens and Anna comes inside, holding a garment cover.

Anna. Phew, what a scorcher. Hi, Marina.

Marina. Hi, lady. I was just about to call you. Is my dress ready?