"Jack Dann - The Diamond Pit" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dann Jack)

"It beats what we're doin' now -- "
But before the ceiling closed, I could see Phoebe looking down -- right
at _me_ -- and smiling.
--------
*Three*
The piano arrived, as promised. It was a special-edition, pearl-white
Steinway grand, which produced a huge, full orchestral sound, yet the keys had
such an incredibly fast action that I couldn't help but open up with a
boogie-woogie medley. My feet stomped on the floor as my left hand flew over
the keys beating out syncopated rhythms that were so tricky that I dared not
watch what I was doing, lest I falter; and my right hand, weaving various
melodies through the rhythms of my left, might as well have had a mind of its
own.
I was a one-man band.
I was also, needless to say, half in the proverbial bag. But so was
everyone else, except Cissy Schneck and Farley James, a nice British fellow
who had been an Oxford don before the war. I found out from Skip that he had
been an ace pilot. He'd come over here to compete in the ocean-to-ocean air
race in '19, the same year the Cincinnati Reds beat the Sox in the eighth
game, which was a miracle. So was Farley James, I guess, because he'd come in
second place and decided to stay and start an air flying company with Charlie
Lindbergh. That surprised the hell out of me because Joel, may God rest his
soul, said he'd worked for Lindbergh for a while.
"Hey, Farley," I called, and he dutifully came over to the piano, where
Skip formally introduced us.
"Fahley, z'ish is Pauhhzzotti -- "
"Skip tells me you had some business with Charlie Lindbergh."
Farley nodded, smiling at Skip who then began to lead everyone in
another chorus of another new song I had played for them.
"_Do you have any bananas_?"
"_Yes! We have no bananas!_"
"Do you know Charlie?" Farley asked.
"Yeah, I met him through a friend of mine, Joel Wagner. Ring any
bells?"
"Small world. Sure, I remember Joel. Good aviator. Dependable. What's
he doing with himself these days?"
"He's dead."
Farley looked shocked, and he stared down at his shoes, which were so
highly polished he could probably see his face in them.
"Did you ever talk to him about -- a castle up in the mountains?" I
asked.
His thin, sensitive face was tight as shellacked paper. He looked
straight at me and said, "No." After a pause, he said, "But he was shot down
with you, wasn't he -- "
I started playing "Look for the Silver Lining," which everyone knew,
then "Wild Rose," and "Ma -- He's Making Eyes at Me" which Snap Geraldson sang
in falsetto. That was something to hear -- and see. Isn't often an elephant
imitates a parrot being squeezed into a juicer. I played and sang Bessie
Smith's "Downhearted Blues," and, of course, nobody knew who she was; but Rick
Moss and Snap started dancing with each other. I taught them how to