Stranger in Moscow

Welcome to Moscow

Drew

Wandering through the streets of Moscow held some extraordinary kind of romantic, historical, adrenaline-inducing appeal. The energy of this place was impeccable; everywhere I went something was going on - twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. The architecture came in a dazzling variety; Art Deco skyscrapers stood only minutes away from startlingly nostalgic brownstones. Opportunities to take photographs were endless and after the first two days of my stay here, I'd already ran out of memory on my camera.

I just knew this article had to be good. After managing to lie my way into an internship at a magazine company, I'd spent months doing the low administration work that the people with secure jobs had no interest in. But aside from all of the hard work, something incredible appeared on schedule; an opportunity for permanent employment. The magazine had sent me and the other eleven interns to Moscow, faced with the task of coming up with an article that accurately represented the present day appeal of the city. There was no more guidance; the twelve of us were put up in a cheap hotel for four days and the article was due next week. The best submission would provide the writer with job security. It was simple as that.

I just had to win. While the other interns spent their time eating pizza and drinking cheap beer like they were on a vacation, I made it my priority to get a real grasp on the city; to find out what was in and what was out, what made the money and who spent that money. Literally I walked more in the last couple of days then I had in the entire month. I'd experienced the coffee shops, the designer clothing stores, the parks, the museums and spoken to each and every person who was vaguely interesting to me.

After a day of dodging taxi cabs and talking nonstop, I suggested that I deserved a drink. My designer heels clicked down the cobblestone streets of the meat packing district. The old slaughterhouses had been converted into trendy Italian bistros, wine bars, after hour clubs and up-marketing art galleries.

Walking into Kalina Bar, I ferociously walked up to the large casual bar. Inside was very large and lavishly styled but still held a comfortable fill to it with the small tables that sat right beside a large window that displayed a wonderful view of Moscow. It was very busy with a mixed crowd; couples eating traditional Italian food; middle-aged woman sipping cocktails and enjoying each other's conversation; as well as a group of elderly men that were just  lounging around smoking their rich cigars while they were laughing obnoxiously loud disturbing the people around them. White lights shone down from the ceiling, giving the place a soft, relaxing feel.

As I was about to place my favorite alcohol beverage which consisted of anything that had peach in it when sight of a man on the other side of the room caught my attention. He was sitting at one of the tables alone, seeming to be in his own little world, oblivious to all the noise of the bar. He was very attractive, but that wasn't what shocked me. I'd recognized his face. It came to me slowly, as I continued to stare at his backside.One of my friends from college had done a study on his work for her art coursework and I helped her with the research. He was a up and coming artist at the time - a very good one at that and - and maybe I could write about him in my article. Adrian something ... I thought as I tried to remember his name and then it struck; Adrian Carter. 

Giving an apologetic smile to the approaching bartender, I slipped from my seat and headed towards the artist, trying to ignore the rising feel of unease in my stomach. I didn't have anything to lose, I told myself, just a brilliant opportunity to make my article relevant and infinitely more thought-provoking than what all the other interns would submit.

I approached his table warily. He didn't look up, seemingly absorbed in his thoughts and his half-empty glass of Hennessy on the rocks. It was definitely him. I recognized him from the magazine article; I remembered reading about him and arguing with my friend about how attractive we thought he was.