"Eric Flint - 1632" - читать интересную книгу автора (Flint Eric)

the judge was hard as stone. 'Marines, Nichols. I'm sick and tired o'you . Either that or six years
downstate.' "

The doctor shrugged. "I admit, that judge probably saved my life." His expression became filled with
mock outrage. The accent thickened. "But I still say it ain't armed robbery when the dumb kid drops the
gun on the way into the liquor store and gets caught running five blocks away. Hell, who knows? Maybe
he was just looking for its rightful owner. Not realizing, the poor cherub, that it was a stolen piece."

Mike burst into laughter. When his eyes met those of Nichols again, the silent exchange between them
was warm and approving. The way two men, meeting for the first time, occasionally take an instant liking
to each other.

Mike glanced toward his new in-laws. He was not surprised to see that his riotous gaiety had drawn
their disapproving eyes. He met their stern frowns with a smile whose politeness barely covered the
underlying mockery.

Yeah, that's right, you rich farts. Two scapegraces, right before your eyes. As close to outright ex-cons
as you can get. Heavens!

Nichols' voice broke into Mike's silent test of wills with the Simpsons.

"So you're the famous brother," the doctor murmured.

Startled, Mike's eyes left the Simpsons. "I wasn't aware that I was famous," he protested.

Nichols shrugged, smiling. "Depends on the circle, I imagine. From what I can tell, listening to them
gabble over the last couple of days, every one of your sister's college friends has a crush on you. You're
quite a romantic figure, you know."

Again, Mike was startled. And, again, it must have showed on his face.

"Oh, come on, Mike!" snorted Nichols. "You're still in your mid-thirties, and look younger than that.
Tall, handsomeтАФwell, handsome enough. But, most of all, you've got that glamoroushistory ."

"Glamorous?" choked Mike. "Are you nuts?"

Nichols was grinning, now. "Give me a break. You can't foolme ." He made a little sweeping gesture
with his hands, indicating himself. "What do you see here? A very prosperous-looking black man in his
mid-fifties, right?" His dark eyes glinted with humor and knowledge. "And what else?"

Mike eyed him. "AтАФlet's call it ahistory . You weren't always a proper doctor."

"Certainly wasn't! And don't think, when I was your age, that I didn't take full advantage of it." Nichols'
wide grin changed to a gentle smile. "You're a classic, Mike. It's that old tale which always tugs at
sentiment. The reckless and dashing black sheep of the family, leaving town before the law could nail him.
An adventurous lad. Soldier, longshoreman, truck driver, professional boxer. Disreputable roustabout,
even if he did manage to tuck away three years in college. ThenтАФ"
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