"Bradley-WeLoveLydiaLove" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bradley Denton)

DENTON BRADLEY

WE LOVE LYDIA LOVE

SHE KNOWS ME, AND SHE'S happy, and she's not asking how or why. She's clutching
me so tight that I can't keep my balance, and my shoulder collides with the open
door. The door is heavy, dark wood with a circular stained-glass eye set into
it. The eye, as blue as the spring sky, is stating at me as if it knows I'm a
fraud.

From down the hill comes the sound of the car that brought me, winding its way
back through the live oaks and cedars to Texas 27. Daniels didn't even stay long
enough to say hello to his number-one recording artist. He said he'd leave the
greetings up to me and the Christopher chip.

Stroke her neck. She likes that.

Yes. She's burying her face in my shoulder, biting, crying, Her skin is warm,
and she tastes salty. She says something, but her mouth is full of my shirt. Her
hair smells of cinnamon.

"Lydia," I say. My voice isn't exactly like Christopher's, but CCA has fixed me
so that it's close enough. She shouldn't notice, but if she does, I'm to say
that the plane crash injured my throat. "I tried to get a message to you, but
the village was cut off, and I was burned, and my leg was broken --"

Not so much. We're the stoic type.

The whisper sounds like it's coming from my back teeth. I've been listening to
it for two weeks, but that wasn't long enough for me to get used to it. I still
flinch. I told Daniels that I needed more time, but he said Lydia would be so
glad to see me that she wouldn't notice any tics or twitches. And by the time
she settles back into a routine life with me -- with Christopher -- I'll be so
used to the chip that it'll be as if it's the voice of my own conscience. So
says Daniels. I'm not convinced, but I'll do my best. Not just for my sake, but
for Lydia's. She needs to finish her affair with Christopher so she can move on.
The world is waiting for her new songs.

And as a bonus, they'll get mine. Willie Todd's, I mean. Not Christopher
Jennings'. Christopher Jennings is dead.

You are Christopher. Right. I know.

She's looking at our eyes. She thinks we're distracted, and she wants our
attention. Her lips are moist. Kiss her.

You bet. I'll concentrate on being Christopher.