"Davidson,.MaryJanice.-.Betsy.2.-.Dead.Girls.Don't.Dance" - читать интересную книгу автора (Davidson Mary Janice)

She blinked at him. She didn't have to blink much anymore, but she liked to do
it for effect. "Nothing, of course. What do I need money for? Food? Shelter?
Warm clothes? Bikinis? Sunscreen? A family to feed?" She triedЧand failedЧto
keep the bitterness out of her voice. "Let's not forget, for the last few years
I've been little more than an animal. This is probably the first time I've even
thought about money in six years."
"Huh."
That was all he said as they exited the elevator, walked down the hall, and
entered their room like robots who didn't know each other. The room faced west,
and she was gratified to see the curtains were thick.
"So what about your folks?" he asked, just when she thought he was going to shut
up for a while.
She'd been pretending to read the "Welcome to the Super 8" brochure. "What about
them?"
"WellЕ aren't you going to tell them you aren't dead?"
She stood, crossed to him, took his hand, and placed it in the middle of her
chest. Then waited patiently. Then said, "I am dead, Daniel. Please note the
absence of a pulse."
He didn't move his hand, but made an impatient expression with his eyebrows.
"You know what I mean."
"Well, let's seeЕ my mom left my dad when I was twelve, and I haven't seen her
since, and last I heard Dad was off somewhere in New Jersey with Stepmother
Number Three. I doubt they noticed I was dead."
"Oh," he said. Then, "Sorry."
"It's nothing."
"How come I didn't get invited to your funeral?"
"I'm sorry," she said politely. "Your invitation must have gotten lost in the
garbage disposal."
"Now, cut that out! You know what I mean."
"Look, I wasn't exactly around to plan the fucking thing, okay? Ask the funeral
director why you weren't invited. I was busy clawing my way out of my own
grave."
"O-kay. Y'don't have to be so touchy."
"And you don't have to be such a dumbass," she snapped, "and yet, you seem
unable to stop."
"Well, it's better than being a bitch!"
"No, it is not!"
"Yeah, it is!"
"You know, most people would have the sense to be afraid of me, but you, you're
too dumb!"
"Afraid of what? A bloodsucking shrew?"
"Do you even know," she asked with deadly venom, "what a shrew is?"
"A shrew," he said, his index finger stabbing her nose, "is a woman of violent
temper. It's also a small mouselike animal with a sharp nose."
She paused. "I'm going to make you eat that dictionary."
"Try it, cutie. I'll bounce you across this room like a Super Ball."
"I don't want to be bounced like a Super Ball," she admitted, and he cracked up.
"Awwwww," he said when he had finished hee-hawing like a donkey. "Our first
fight."
"I could snap your neck," she commented, "like a toothpick."