"Charles Coleman Finlay - An Eye for an Eye" - читать интересную книгу автора (Finley Charles Coleman)

straight, borrowed money from his folks, put up cameras and bought a guard fearit,
one of those genetically engineered ferret hybrids smalltime dope dealers keep
around. But sneaky low-tech beats stupid high-tech. I spraypainted the cameras and
drugged the fearit with Nyquil-marinated chicken livers, broke in and took what I
wanted. Then nature called at an opportune moment, so I left a king-size dump in the
middle of his queen-size bed, wiped my ass on his pillowcases, and called it even.
I left off that last part when I told my friend Diane about it. Which ended up
being lucky, because sheтАЩd just found out her boyfriend Joe was cheating on her.
Diane was, is, a Euro-Chinese kickboxing braniac, with big dark eyes and great taste
in jewelry. It wasnтАЩt like her to get all emotional, but sheтАЩd been in love with Joe and
had her life planned out right down to the brood of children. That was going to be
her whole life. So she took it pretty hard, especially when Joe kept a bunch of things
that mattered to her, including her earpod with maybe her ten thousand favorite
songs on it, her collection of Generation Mutant action figures, and the
celery-colored Fiestaware.
There we were, drinking away her sorrow, and she started telling me how Joe
ruined her world, how he took something away from her she could never have
replaced. She was cold-hearted that night, swearing sheтАЩd have him killed. I said she
didnтАЩt need to go that far to get her stuff back. I could do it for her. Trying to
impress her, be the nice guy rebound after that jerk. She took me up on it.
I got her most of her stuff back, but it wasnтАЩt enough to make her happy and I
didnтАЩt get to be the rebound. Truth is, sheтАЩs always been cold-hearted since that
time. Joe died in a motorcycle accident a couple months later, casting a weird pall
over the whole thing. She called me up to take her to the funeral, said I was the only
one who could understand her true feelings about him. She finished law school after
that, found a job at a big criminal firm, and crossed the border into Have-land. And
that was that.
I crossed the border into Crooksville. My plan was to do a few big jobs, salt
away the money, and start over. Finish college, go to law school maybe, something
like that. Only the jobs were never big enough to give me that chance, even though I
keep trying to move up into the big leagues.
Diane did me a favor here and there, telling some of her more discreet
colleagues about my special talents. If their clients didnтАЩt have enough money for
legal fees to resolve property disputes, they referred their clients to me. Over the
past couple years, IтАЩve built up a steady business. ItтАЩs a better gig than
smash-and-grabs. I get some inside tip, a key or passcode, plus the people who are
robbed are usually not eager to involve the cops. I make way more than I could on
my own.
It was one of DianeтАЩs sleazier friends who contacted me about the beefy guy
sitting across from me in StarbuckтАЩs. In an odd way, everything I have now I owe to
Diane.
I try not to think about the fact that I donтАЩt have what I really wanted.
****
What I say next to the guy in the Hawaiian shirt is, тАЬWow. That took some
balls for her to do.тАЭ
He frowns at me like heтАЩs already heard all those jokes, which probably he
has, so I jump to the next question.
тАЬWhy not just take her to court?тАЭ
After another drink of frothy coffee, he leans forward and says, тАЬLook, I
depend on a trust fund and my mother administers it like a fucking food stamp