"Molly Brown - Community Service" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brown Molly)

beer."
Freddie poured the drinks, then counted the stack of chips I'd placed on
the bar. He took every single one of them.
"Cheers," Rico Salvo said. He gulped down the contents of his glass, then
swivelled around to face me, his head tilted slightly to one side. "Do I
seem drunk to you?"
"No."
He sighed. "I didn't think I was. Though it's not for want of trying." He
pointed to the glass he'd just emptied. "I've had four of those within the
last hour, all triples, but nothing seems to work."
"Really?" I said. I could still taste those salty nuts. I took a long
drink, swirling the beer around my tongue before I swallowed. "And I came
over here thinking I would drink you under the table."
"How long you been working traffic?"
"Forever."
"And how long's forever?"
"Six years."
"Six years?" he repeated, his eyes widening slightly.
"Well, almost. My anniversary is next week. Depressing, isn't it? All that
time I spent in the academy, all that riot training and target shooting
and unarmed combat, and where do they send me on graduation? To an office
where I do nothing but sit on my butt all day, staring at a bank of
screens. What kind of work is that for a cop, I ask you?"
"But you weren't always working Northwest, were you? You used to work in
another area and got transferred here within the last couple of months,
right?"
"No. I've always worked Northwest."
He looked back at the table where the others were sitting. "And what about
them? How long have they been working traffic here?"
"Most of them were already around when I started." I shrugged. "We've all
been here for years."
The guy practically turned green.
"You sure you're okay?" I asked him.
"Yeah, I'm fine." He stood to leave. "Thanks for the drink."
"Hey, wait," I said. "I buy you a triple Scotch and you don't even ask me
my name?"
"All right, what's your name?"
"Nora. Nora Kelly."
"Thanks for the drink, Nora Kelly."
He walked out the door without looking back.
Freddie came over to clear away the glasses. He gave me a sympathetic
look, then poured me a beer on the house. "Forget him, sweetie. He wasn't
your type anyway."
"So who is?" I asked him.
He nodded towards the stage. "You know that better than me, honey."
The holovid came to an abrupt end, leaving Jimmy alone on the little
platform, his lips puckered into a kiss. "Ah, hell," he said, stepping
down to put more chips in the machine. Then he saw I was alone. He crossed
over to lean against the bar. "Well?"
"Well what?"