"Davis, Jerry - Death's Head Reunion" - читать интересную книгу автора (Davis Jerry)

enough to be realistic, the psyches inhabiting them are all wrong.
Sylvester looks far too intelligent, and Arnold looks gay.
Sylvester confirms that George is on the list and they step aside
and allow him to pass. The crowd's interest in George is suddenly
renewed; obviously George is somebody, but they have no idea who.
A few wave and call out to him, as if it would help them get
inside.
Inside, Marilyn greets him at the door. She's a receptionist.
"Your name?" she asks.
George stares at her for a moment, waiting for her to
recognize him. Then he realizes it's not Bernadette, and he looks
around feeling overwhelmed. The place is full of Cinematia bodies,
and one of the most popular is Marilyn. There's at least eight of
them. They're all throughout the restaurant, mingling in with
James Deans, Clark Gables, Cary Grants, Burt Reynolds, John
Waynes, Raquel Welchs, Annette Funicellos, Bridgette Bardots, and
young Jane Fondas. Strategically placed throughout the various
sections are old-style flat video screens showing non-stop classic
cinema, with no sound.
George gives the receptionist his name and asks after
Bernadette. Bernadette has not yet arrived, so George takes a seat
at the bar between Rock Hudson and Elvis. This perturbs Rock and
Elvis, as they were making eyes at each other. George orders a $50
beer and waits.
Bernadette makes an entrance, and heads turn. George bites
his lower lip --- she's wearing The White Dress. She smiles, looks
around, and waves at George with white gloves almost up to her
elbows. The other Cinematia Marilyns fade into the background like
3rd rate mannequins. Bernadette's mannerisms, her smile, the
twinkle in her eye --- they're genuine. They're the real thing.
She wears the Marilyn body as well as Norma Jean herself.
"Ooo, you're here! You showed up," she says.
"Of course I did. How could I not?"
"Very easily, I'm afraid."
"Nonsense!" George's hands are shaking so that he nearly
spills his beer. "Not a chance."
She smiles. "You're nervous too."
"No, uh ... well, yes. I am."
"Feel my hands," she says, reaching out. He takes them.
"They're sweating," she tells him.
"I can't tell." He laughs. "Mine are sweating too, so I'd
never know."
"First date jitters," she says. "It's been a long time since
I've been nervous about a first date."
"Yes, me too." He neglects to tell her that it's been a long
time since he's had any kind of date, period.
"This is a date, right?" she asks, suddenly concerned.
"Yes," George says quickly. "I mean, I consider it one."
"Our first date." She smiles. "You make me feel like a
teenager again."