"Bowes-ShadowAndGunman" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bowes Richard)

She wore slacks and ankle-high riding boots. One of them rested on the low table
in front of her in a way that was absolutely cool. With the dead accuracy of a
kid, I realized she was a crucial few years my senior. I also knew that skin and
bones like hers were expensive.

When she looked up, it was right into my wide eyes. From my limited experience
of lovely girls, I was prepared for her to realize our differences in age and
sophistication, frown and go back to her magazine. Instead, she nodded like she
understood what she saw. That was a feeling I never got from Petrie. Smiling,
she asked, "Is your shrink giving you anything good?"

Not sure what she meant, I shook my head. She nodded toward one of the offices.
"I'm seeing Kleinman, a dullard but occasionally useful. My name is Stacey
Hale." Stacey held out her hand.

"Kevin Grierson," I said and took it. She left something in my palm. "Next time,
have him give you those." I looked down at a green, heart-shaped pill.
"Dexedrine," she said. "You're here on Saturdays?" Dr. Kleinman's door opened as
I nodded.

Out in the hall, I still saw her face. The pill was a little bitter when I
washed it down at a water fountain. At first, I felt nothing. But by the time I
reached the Y, I was sailing. Far away kids shouted in the pool; in the gray
lighted Gallery middle-aged men whispered.

Some guy I didn't know said, "Ten dollars to pose," and led me into an alcove.
"Open your clothes. Let them slip down. Yes! Jacket and shirt off your
shoulders, hands behind you like you're cuffed. Look tough." I gave my practiced
hard smile. "Freeze!" He was creepy but he didn't touch me. Besides, all this
felt like it was happening to someone else.

That afternoon, I bought a milk shake at a luncheonette and couldn't finish it.
Inside my head, something crackled like the blue sparks on streetcar wires. Gray
and dowdy streets slid by around me until I found myself standing at a fence
watching an engine shuttle cars in the Boston and Maine yards. In the distance,
slanting October sun hit the John Hancock tower and I thought about Stacey.

Tuesday in blazer and slacks, I looked at Dr. Petrie and said, "You know, sir,
there's this kid in school who was having trouble like I'm having. His doctor
gave him a certain prescription and it seemed to help."

The drug never again worked like that first time. But by Friday when we read
through Henry the Fourth, I already knew all my lines and most of everyone
else's.

Saturday morning, tingling from speed and anticipation, I came out of Petrie's
office and found the waiting room empty. Stacey's doctor didn't even seem to be
there. I was stunned. Outside at the curb sat a red MG with its motor running.
Only when the horn blew did I focus. "Hey!" I said.