In the meantime, night has fallen. There was not a single open spot left at the terrace of the café. Máté arrived back with a mischievous smile and two glasses of wine, but his jolly mood quickly vanished as he saw Anna.
– What happened? – he asked concerned.
– Nothing – Anna answered, faking neutrality.
– Nah... I left you here all happy, and now you're pale and grumpy.
– I got some bad news from home.
– Bad news? What?
Anna was feverishly thinking of some lightweight, white lie, but finally she decided against it. When she hooked up with Máté, she swore to herself that she will always be honest to him. Well, obviously not always in all the everyday little things or innocent flirts, just in the important cases.
She took a deep breath and she got it out:
– I left you out on something. You won't like it.
Máté tried to cover up his worries.
– Whilst I was chatting with the waiter, you fell for some French guy?
– No, please don't joke around now, Máté! – Anna stopped him and put her hand on his arm, who, for this, gave a little wave of surrender.
– Tell me.
– I got an email in July that brought my attention to a female blogger and her postings.
The man sighed, relieved:
– So you started to write your own blog, opening yourself up irresponsibly, because you were behind the mask of anonimity, but now you got caught. Somebody found out that the blog is written by a TV star, and the whole Hungarian tabloid scene is munching on your story – he dished it all in one breath. Anna tried to object, but Máté didn't let her speak. – Know what? Let's just move here, and ask for a refugee status, because at home your colleagues are hunting you...
– Shut up! – she placed a finger over his lips, trying to pacify him, but he just shoved it away with a nervous move.
– As a matter of fact, I would like to read it too, even though I suspect that I wouldn't completely enjoy every single page of it...
– Please listen to me! – she got louder. – It's bullshit! – she added a lot less securely, as she was actually writing a blog on another portal and she was actually panicked by the possibility of being discovered. She never told anyone about it, not even Máté. She showed too much of herself.
He sipped his wine pouting.
– Psychofairy is also in the community – she added after some silence.
Máté slammed his glass angrily on the table. The noise was so loud that the people sitting nearby rose their heads and got curious about the scene.
– You're meeting up with that drugged-up shithead? – the editor hissed from behind his teeth.
– No, we're not meeting up, I haven't even seen him, he only wrote me an e-mail or two, that's all.
Anna put her hand on his arm, but he shook her off.
– And anyways, he's not a druggie! – Anna was defending Psychofairy poutingly.
– If I recall correctly, the cops picked him up with a load of weed…
– To be exact, it was an insignificant amount, they didn't even press charges.
– I bet only because he incriminated his buddies!
– Don't be prejudicial! After all, whilst we're at topic, your so-beloved Orsi doesn't quite say no to drugs either – Anna burst out in jealousy.
– And where did you get that one from? Which "gossip magazine"?
Now it was Máté grabbing her shoulder. Anna was silent, so he shook her.
– Let me go!
The Parisians were watching them again, but since the wrestling was over, and they couldn't figure a word out of the odd-language argument, they started to enthusiastically discuss what they've just seen.
– So, how do you think that Orsi does drugs? – Máté asked in a low voice.
– If you really want to know, from the exact same person as you do!
He stared at Anna in surprise who added with a determined look:
– You bet I did a little interrogation with Szilvi. I know everything about that certain day…
The twenty-something redhead clinged to Máté at a bar a year ago, she wanted to be an intern in his office for any price. On the day Anna mentioned, Szilvi created the distraction Máté needed to sneak into the office of the programming director. His suspense was fulfilled. Hidden in the writing desk he found the solid evidence about the crimes of Márkus.
The night before Anna followed him to the Balaton, but - as it turned out later - a few miles off of the place where he was hiding Orsi, she lost him. She spent the rest of the night with her parents, whilst Máté was plotting the secret entry with the red demon.
Anna wasn't quite convinced about his explanation that he set a trap for Márkus with Szilvi and not with her because he was afraid of the programming director's possible repercussions. She visited Szilvi at her usual spot, got her drunk and then she promised her to get her in to Criminal News as a reporter if she tells her the story of all their meetings with Máté in detail. That's how Anna learned about the VIP group doing drugs at the bar called Big Boat. There were a few show hosts of Channel Three too. From Szilvi's description, Anna immediately recognized Orsolya Manner.
– But Szilvi didn't know anything about Orsi... – Máté was astonished.
– She found it out later. She really does have some guts! So it's your little Orsi a druggie, not Psychofairy. And I really haven't met him not a single time, not even when you were breaking arms and legs and leaving In The Line Of Fire in the pit as you ran to be the editor-in-chief for Snapshots when that pitting whore snapped her fingers.
– Stop it now! You know it very well that I only took that position because of the express wish of the CEO, because of the interest of the channel, so I can keep an eye on the hostess who got into some serious mental downhill.
– The question is, do you keep an eye on her in her bed too?
– You're unjust! – he yelled.
– And you're a hypocrite. You preach about honesty, but when I tell you something you don't want to hear, you immediately lunge at me.
Máté tried to riposte, but she didn't let him speak.
– Now can I finally tell you what is it all about?
The man kept pouting in silence.
– A woman is in deep trouble. She wrote a blog about her marriage, and now it has turned out that her husband was…
Máté's silence was apparently the silence before the storm that just broke out:
– I don't give a fuck about some whiny cunt, if until now you wanted to chat about it with Psychofairy, not with me.
Instead of answering him, Anna stood up and with determined steps she left off towards Rue Montmartre. A lonely, dark-haired man winked at her with a mischievous smile. If Máté's eyes could've killed, he would've dropped down dead. With wide gestured, the dark-haired man motioned to him that he knows exactly who is with whom, and that he was just joking. From another table, two older ladies were motioning to Máté too, urging him to go after Anna.
– It’s too complicated – he mumbled in English, as at the moment no French words came to his mind.
– No, it isn’t – one of them tried to encourage him. – Just do it! – she urged him.
Rue St Denis was way too close to them for a young and attractive woman to be walking around alone at this late hour, so he just tossed a fifty-euro bill on the table and left after Anna. Some people signed a V for him, another guy was popping his muscles, hence telling him to be hard. All in all, the French had an amusing time with the fighting foreign couple.
At Rue Montmartre there were still way enough people so that Máté could follow Anna around unseen. By Rue Réaumur she could still catch the green, but he had to wait through the line of cars. He lost sight of his girlfriend. He got tired of this hide-and-go-seek, he turned his cell phone on. He was just entering Anna's number as he got a text message. He wanted to just leave it there, but when he saw it came from Orsi, he read the message.
Please tell me it's a joke! Call me, I beg you!
He looked at the screen confused, then he called Orsi. It rang, but she didn't answer. He glanced at his watch, it was ten past ten. He called her home number, still nothing.
He deleted the message so Anna won't accidentally run into it, and he speeded up his steps.
Manner was sitting in the bathtub, so she couldn't hear the phone ringing. She got so knocked out on Friday that the next day she decided to give up drinking. She locked herself in her apartment. She was dying for a sip of rum, but when she thought of herself, how she woke up in her armchair, half naked, soiling herself, she even lost the will to drink. She knew the physical symptoms well, but she didn't know what to do with the pricks of conscience. She didn't go to the meeting, even though Máté would've needed her help. She kept calling him, but he never turned her phone on. That night she went to bed early, and even though she had to withstand the torments of hell, she stayed strong and didn't even take any pills either.
The next day she was even worse, but she muscled through. On Sunday she won over herself and her fears, and in the evening she went out to City Park. She didn't even know what use it would be of, looking around two days later, she was hoping for some kind of a sign from Máté. Before she got out of her car, she put a scarf over her blond hair and put on a fashionable pair of insect eye-like, huge sunglasses that hid half her face. She could barely see in the dark, but nobody would recognize her. Her heart was beating around two hundred when she reached the spot. She hid behind a giant tree as she looked around. Only a few dog-walkers.
She just wanted to run away, her body was all sweaty. She forced herself to step out from the protection of the tree. As she got to the center of the clearing, suddenly peace flowed through her body. She stopped ad listened. Then she even closed her eyes and let her thoughts roam free.
She heard a crack behind her back.
She spun around on her heels.
No matter how she was looking, she couldn't see anything suspicious.
Something cracked behind her.
She turned her head that way.
Nothing.
She took her glasses off, but she still couldn't see a thing.
She turned around another three or so times when she thought she heard scary noises. She knew it would be wisest to go back to her car before she completely panics, but she was just unable to leave the clearing.
– Are you all right? – a male voice boomed at her.
Her whole body was shaking, she couldn't answer.
– Are you sick? – the voice asked.
– Please don't hurt me! – breathed Orsi.
– Nah, I just want to help!
The man was heading towards Orsi, and she was backing off desperately.
The sixty-ish man stopped.
– Calm down, it's all right! – he smiled.
As if she woke up from a dream, Orsi was knocked back into reality. The person who scared her so much was a well-dressed, grey haired man, seemingly an intellectual, with clear, blue eyes. Around his legs, a medium-sized, black mutt was dashing around.
– Excuse me, don't we know each other from somewhere? – he asked, scanning her face.
– No, I don't think so – the hostess answered. She got used to everyone thinking they know her just because they see her on TV.
– Oh, I know! – he slapped his thighs in joy. – You're some news anchor for one of the TV channels.
– Oh, I just resemble her – she lied, puting her sunglasses back on.
– Nah, I can point your eyes out from a thousand, don't even cover them up with those glasses.
Orsi, instead of going on in denial as usual, now took off her glasses and smiled at the man.
– Thanks for the compliment!
Somehow she felt safe with the older man.
– Could you sign an autograph for my granddaughter? She adores you. She wants to study to be a news anchor too.
– Oh God NO! – she mumbled.
– Pardon me?
– Ah, nothing. Could you help me a little?
– At your service!
– Have you been here Friday walking your dog too?
– Yeah, I take him out every night.
– Around this time?
– It depends on what's on TV. Like, on Friday I was here quite a bit later.
– Around midnight? – asked excitedly Orsi.
– Around so.
She started to home she can find out something about the mysterious message. He asked if he has seen a man like Máté around.
– No. There was only a young couple lovin' each other around. And a forty-five-ish man was walking around, he even scared the girl. He was whistling around for his dog, but I never saw the animal anywhere.
– What did he look like? – Orsi asked.
– Well, I don't know, it was dark. He had that characterless face. Average. Neither tall nor short.
– Nothing specific about him? His hair, his clothes...?
The man sunk in his thoughts.
– I'm sorry – he opened his arms.
Orsi nodded sadly.
– Thanks anyways.
– Thank you for chatting with me. Where did you park your car? This area at night is not for pretty, lonely young ladies.
Orsi was surprised, how did he think she's by car, but she didn't ask. She didn't want to hear the stereotype that news anchors are all rich. The dog-lover accompanied her to the Audi. He got his autograph, and as a farewell, he advised her to be careful with those who call her to such dangerous places at night.
The hostess gave his words a thought.
– How? – she asked troubled, but by that time the man was gone, as if the earth had swallowed him.
