"David Garnett - Off The Track" - читать интересную книгу автора (Garnett David)

Michael studied it for the first time. The label was visible through a
circular hole in the paper cover.
"Rock around the Clock," he read. "Bill Haley and his Comets."
"Rock around the Clock!" laughed the man. "Number one in the hit parade!
Didn't know I still had that. Remember buying it in Memphis. Shit, must
have been nearly forty years ago! Look, I even wrote my name on the
sleeve."
"You should keep it." Michael tried to hand the record back.
The man hesitated, then shook his head. "It's no good to me. I can't play
it. But it's a real piece of American history, believe you me."
"Is it? One of those, er, long-playing records, is it?"
"No, it's a seventy-eight."
"Seventy-eight what?"
"Revs per minute. Forty-fives came in soon after, if I remember right."
"Ah, yes." When Michael was younger, a couple of his friends used to buy
records.
"Rock and roll! God, what that meant to us when we were young. It was our
symbol of rebellion, you know what I'm saying?"
Michael said nothing.
"No," said the man, looking him up and down, "maybe you don't. Our parents
hated rock and roll, and radio stations banned it. But it was our music,
and it was going to be our world. We felt everything would be different
from then on." He shrugged. "But it wasn't. I guess it never is."
He gazed at the record but his eyes were unfocused, and he was obviously
remembering the past.
"How much?" asked Michael, to break the silence.
"It's priceless н- and it's worthless. So take it. It's a gift."
"No, we'll pay," said Angela, suddenly appearing behind the man. "And I'd
like this, and this, and this, if they're for sale."
She'd found a small lacquered box with tiny drawers, an oval mirror with a
wicker frame and handle, and a crystal perfume spray.
"If you want them, ma'am, they're for sale."
"Five thousand dollars?"
The man stared at Angela in amazement.
"Not enough?"
"No. Yes, I mean. More than enough. Too much. They ain't worth anywhere
near as much."
"They are to me."
Angela counted the notes from Michael's wallet, handing them to the man.
He tried to refuse, but Michael knew how difficult Angela was to dissuade.

"Is there anything else you want?" he asked, shaking his head in
bewilderment. "Take anything." He looked at the money, and he smiled.
"Take everything."
"We must be going," Angela told him. "Thank you for the coffee."
"You're welcome, ma'am."
He held out his hand, and Angela shook it. Michael backed away out of
reach.
"Come on, Michael."
They left the house and began making their way back to the Volkswagen.