“Oh, it isn’t I it is gematria[5 - gematria – an Assyro-Babylonian system of numerology later adopted by Jews that assigns numerical value to a word or phrase in the belief that words or phrases with identical numerical values bear some relation to each other or bear some relation to the number itself as it may apply to a person’s age, the calendar year, or the like.]. But, personally, I’m more inclined towards an idealist view.” He replies.
“And what that would be?”
“And that would be more of a symbolic, figurative, meaning. The common suggestion is that seven is a number of completeness and is associated with divine and six is a number of incompleteness. In other words, the number of the beast can represent an individual’s incomplete or immature spiritual state.”
“What about the value itself?” I ask.
“What about it?”
“Well, what’s the number that represents the numerical value of the beast?”
“The triple 6.” He replies.
“Do you mean 6-6-6?”
“Yes.” He nods.
Episode 5 – Cross My Heart!
Monte Carlo, 24 December 2010
The argument with maman leaves me no time for shower. I quickly brush my teeth and gel my hair, trying to style my waves into something that can resemble a gentleman’s look. But instead, make it worse: the hair becomes sticky and greasy.
I curse and pull on my tux, the starched collar of my shirt biting beastly into my neck. Grabbing the white bow, I fix it as I run down the stairs.
In the hall, lit by the crystal chandelier, maman, the most charming smile attached to her rouge lips, greets arriving guests.
I try to slip by her unnoticed.
“Luke, darling,” she catches me halfway, “would you please say hello to Baron Von Witte. He hasn’t had the pleasure of seeing you recently.”
Reluctantly, I approach a group of newly arrived guests. Having shaken hands with the Baron, I plan on a quick escape, but maman grabs me by the arm and pulls me aside.
“What’s wrong with you?” She hisses, glancing at my hair.
“Nothing, unlike with some of your honourable guests.” I reply, nodding in the direction of one of the Baron’s daughters.
“Please, behave!”
“Sure.”
She gives me a disapproving stare.
“Mum, honestly. Cross my heart!” I say.
“Stop this nonsense at once, will you!”
“Mum, relax, it’s just a…” I begin, but at this moment another group of guests arrive. She rushes towards them, leaving me alone.
I breathe a sigh of relief, straighten my bow and head to the reception room, open and decorated for the tonight’s festivity.
Flames glaring on guests’ faces, the fire crackles merrily in a huge fireplace. Beside it, a tall Christmas tree is erected. The colourful baubles shine on its fluffy paws. A scent of expensive perfumes mixed with the smell of cigars and pine tree wafts in the air.
I grab two glasses of champagne from a waiter’s tray and gulp them down. Immediately feeling better, I throw a curious look around the room, but find little of interest: all the same faces, nothing of stimulating or inspiring nature.
“Excuse me.”
I turn around and meet the eyes of a skinny girl, wearing some ridiculous haute couture dress.
“Yes?” I say.
“Would you mind if I take a picture of you?” She utters.
“No, I wouldn’t.” I lie.
Episode 6 – To Love
London, 24 December 2010
I put Christmas dishes out on the table, place snow-white starched napkins by our plates and light up candles.
We sit down.
Nicolas takes a bottle of red wine in his hands.
“Why are you alone this Christmas?” He asks, inserting an opener into the cork.
“I’m not alone, I’m with you.”
He looks up at me.
“Are you flirting with me?”
“No, just poking fun at you. But seriously, I just thought that, for a change, I could spend Christmas here in London.” I say.
“What about New Year’s Eve? Set for Russia?” He asks.
“Missed again. French Riviera.”
“Didn’t know you had friends there.” He says, his eyebrows arching in surprise.
“I don’t. At least, no one I can call that really. Just couple of people I’m acquainted with.”
Abruptly, he pulls the cork out and spills some wine on his jeans. I throw my napkin to him. He catches it and starts vigorously rubbing the stain, only making it worse.
“Here,” I say, pushing salt to him, “spice it up, it should work better.”
“I doubt it.” He says gloomily.