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TAMARA: thank You!
Tamara returns to her seat, studying the painting with affection.
Mykola and Luba look at each other. Nicholas does not stand up.
NIKOLAI (to the driver): Hey, friend, tell me, who is this Gosha Katz?
Stepan smiles, looks through a mirror in salon.
STEPAN (to Nikolay): I don't know.
NIKOLAI (the upper hand indignantly): in sense not know?
Lyuba grunts and giggles.
STEPAN: well, seriously, I don't know. This guy introduced himself as Gosha Katz or Katz, I do not know how correctly. He offered to pay for all the empty seats, so as not to wait, and we went, inadvertently leaving you at the bus stop. That's all I know about him.
NIKOLAI (cheerfully): So here is it that! And I'm wondering what the bus is Packed. Well, the artist.
The bus is silent for a while.
Lyuba and Nikolai inadvertently look at Tamara studying the painting in anticipation of explanations, but she is in no hurry to give them.
Without waiting for explanations, they turn in the direction of movement, look into the distance of the stretching beauties. They squint at Gosha.
TAMARA (putting the notebook in her purse): how do you know him, I suppose, you don't go to the Philharmonic?
NIKOLAI (indignantly): What? My wife in the city Philharmonic has reeled off a te
TAMARA: and who does your wife work at the Philharmonic?
Gosha turns around curiously, looking at Nikolai.
NICHOLAS (arrogantly) by Usher!
Gosha smiles and returns to the gadget.
LYUBA: Who, uncle Kohl?
NIKOLAI (quietly): Usher, in General.
The bus is silent again.
TAMARA (looking out the window): First violin in the Urals.
Stepan attentively looks through a mirror at Tamara, then at Gosha.
STEPAN: since when did cultural figures start earning such money that they could spend fifty or sixty thousand rubles an hour?
Gosha is distracted from the phone.
GOSHA: Look, I don't go into anyone's pocket. Why are you trying to audit mine?
STEPAN: no, it's just interesting. I'm sorry if I offended you. I just thought that musicians receive a pittance. I was wrong.
There is a brief silence on the bus.
Gosha is distracted from the smartphone, thinks about something of his own and turns to Stepan.
GOSHA: You were not mistaken. All right. Music career does not bring me much profit. What I earn with a violin is only enough for gasoline. Frankly speaking, I do not understand how, and on what colleagues live. They are interrupted by custom-made concerts, hacks. Who as, in General. Was it worth it to study for seven years in a music school and then in conservatories?..
The passengers of the bus listen attentively. Stepan glances at the boy from time to time.
GOSHA: I owe Money to my father. And everyone else. He made a successful business in the nineties, managed, in General, to be on the crest of a wave. And so he made sure his children didn't need anything. To do in life what we want. Not what we have to do to get a pe
Gosha pauses, looks out the window.
GOSHA: This is not very reasonable in terms of multiplying the available funds. I don't have a businessman's streak, but on the other hand, why would this money rot in Bank accounts if it's of no use here in life, in real life, and not on paper or electronic reports, which, in fact, are worthless.
Gosha turns back, looks at Tamara, then at Lyuba and Nikolai.
GOSHA: I owe everything I have to my father.
A pause of a few seconds.
Gosha lowers his head, continues the story.
GOSHA: he called me this morning, said he was not feeling well and might not make it to the evening. That you need to have time to exchange the last word and solve a few formalities. And two hours later I got a call from the hospital of this town or village, Novodrachenino, said that the old man is bad. So I'm in a hurry.
Stepan sadly shakes his head.
Heard the roar of the engine, the bus is gaining momentum.
NIKOLAI (Gaucher): isn't that Anton Grigorievich, your father?
GOSH, He's the best!
The passengers turn their attention to Nikolai.
Gosha sits without turning around.
NIKOLAI: I Know him… a little. Extraordinary personality.
GOSHA: that's right.
NIKOLAI: about five Years ago he came to our slum. Built a two-story house in one summer. Neighbors has always kept his distance, not let close itself to anyone in soul did not climb.
GHOSH: It is not only you that's how we communicated, how many know him, is always so. Help than-always without issues, and friendship close never nor with whom not drove.
NIKOLAI: Yes, I remember the year before last I sat on my belly on my Zhiguli. Spring, the road is broken. By Anton Grigorievich. Walk, buy bread in the store came out. He didn't say a word, I just saw him out of the corner of my eye. Five minutes later, he's backing up in his jeep. The cable pulls out, he catches everything. I was sitting in the car warming myself. Pulled, of course. Said Hello, good day wished and left.
GOSHA: I'll Find out, father.
The driver, Stepan, intervenes.
STEPAN: I don't understand if a person with money, why is he in such a jungle gone? The house was built. Usually, if you have money, go to meet a quiet old age in Spain, or if you do not speak languages – in the resort area of Russia…
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