"Godwin, Parke - Snake Oil 02 - The Snake Oil Wars, or Scheherazade Ginsberg Strikes Again (b)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Godwin Parker)

Coyul didn't expect to be blown up. After his fiasco in the Megachurch, he
looked forward to a restful interlude in his salon, with Richard Wagner the
morning's only scheduled appointment Coyul would rather discuss music than
theology any day, and Wagner needed approval for a new operatic extravaganza.
Approaching his salon, he heard the mellow tones of his piano in a very un-
Wagnerian strain, He opened the door; an oasis to the jaded eye.

Barion never did much by way of furniture; ancient file cabinets, a plain desk,
a few wooden chairs. Coyul's sense of decor was more opulent. White walls,
subtle lighting, furnishings in cream and beige leather. There was a liquor
cabinet for guests whose virtues clung beyond death, several music stands,
spacious cathedral windows through which the view changed to the watcher's whim,
To one side stood Coyul's computer for musical notation. The white grand piano
dominated the salon, As he suspected, not the Giant of Bayreuth at the piano but



George Gershwin, fat cigar clamped between his teeth, long fingers caressing
melody from the keyboard.

"George, good to see you," Coyul brightened immediately. "Is that from the new
show?"

"The love song for the second act. Want to hear the lyrics?"

"Do I want a migraine?" The crisp, staccato voice came from the depths of an
easy chair turned toward the windows. Aloof as Gershwin was convivial, George
Kaufman rose in ectomorphic sections, left arm coiled around his neck to scratch
at his right car. He gazed gloomily out the window on a privately remembered
view of Forty-fourth Street in New York. "How was your opening, Prince?"

Coyul sank down on the leather lounge. "Don't wait up for the reviews. Told them
the truth and started a riot," "We heard of some disagreement," Gershwin said.
"What else is new?" Kaufman scrutinized the rug at his feet, bending to remove a
tiny piece of lint which he deposited in an ashtray. "They've been shooting
without a script for years,"

"1 was expecting Wagner-not keenly, but have you seen him?"

"Oh, he came." Gershwin flirted with the Magic Fie theme, turning the phrase
subtly blue. "Took one look at as and left."

"Well, I deserved one break today," Coyul said candidly. "To what do I owe this
delightful recess? Problems with the show?"

"It's that refugee from Woodstock they gave me for a collaborator," Kaufman
barked in his best curmudgeon voice. "Ricky Remsleep, the professional hippy.
Wrote a love scene for the second act. No pace, no laughs, just soggy lines with
guitar music yet. Every time Remsleep feels significant, he wants a guitar
behind the actors." The co-author of memorable Broadway hits scowled at the rug,