"Davis, Jerry - Scuba" - читать интересную книгу автора (Davis Jerry)

"And Hollywood didn't work out."
"It could have. I enjoyed it when I did work. But I had to
support myself so I got this job, and the job took over my life.
Had to be upwardly mobile, you see. Now here I am in Chicago. I
guess the next step is New York."
"Ever act locally?"
"I don't have the time, anymore. Maybe after this job I'll be
able to save up enough . . ." She shrugged, finished her drink.
"I'll be right back," she said, standing up. "I've got to find the
little girl's room." She walked off, her hips swaying back and
forth, back and forth.
"I've got to get out of here," Jack mumbled to himself. He
looked at his watch. It was almost 9 o'clock, he should have
called his wife. She was going to be worried. Jack started to get
off the barstool but stopped, hanging on the edge. He pulled
himself back up, settling back in. He couldn't call her. He had no
idea of what to tell her.
This is bad, he thought. This is no longer innocent. I've got
to go. Still, he didn't move. It felt safe, it felt like he'd
escaped the pressures, that they couldn't find him where he was.
Christie walked around the corner and right up to him, putting her
arms around his neck and kissing him. When she pulled back she
showed him something in her hand, a hotel key with a bright orange
tag. She dangled it right in front of his face. Her eyes were
bright, glassy things, full of joy. She was smiling so warmly.
Jack slid off the bar stool and followed where she led.

#

The room was very nice. It was large, warm, and totally dark
when the curtains were pulled. Despite being in a building with a
population equaling that of most small mid-western towns, it was
utterly silent.
They were naked on top of the covers, she was curled against
him on the side opposite the door. Their hands still ran up and
down each other's bodies, caressing warm skin and nerves still
tingling. Warm air blew down from a vent in the ceiling, a breath
of luxury.
"We ought to send up for champagne," she said. "I love
champagne. I love expensive champagne. The more expensive it is,
the more I love it."
"My father loved this really expensive champagne from France
that came in a black bottle. He could only get it every other
year, because it was a very small vineyard. Sometimes he'd have it
flown over special order. I remember the last year he did that the
bill was more than a vacation cruise."
"Your father was rich. Did you inherit it all?"
"No. I just inherited all his problems. Champagne and cigars
were the only things he ever spent money on, other than his
company. He was always pouring money back into it. Now all that