"Kathleen Ann Goonan - Angels and You Dogs" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goose Mother)

Jack Martin


$10 in Advance
$20 at the Door
Visa, MasterCard, or Checks With Fl Driver License




.....
 It took me fifteen minutes, some emergency map reading, and
backtracking to get to the place where angels purportedly crossed paths
with dogs. On the way, I kept seeing Charles, his leg bloodied, and
wondered who would pay for getting him tennis-worthy again. But mostly
I thought about Blake, and though betrayal and disappointment were
uppermost in my roiling emotions, the spasms of jealousy I was
programmed to feel were missing. In their place was something I didn't
really understand, a luminous space filled with possibility. In this
luminous, betrayed state I passed the place and had to turn around.
The penciled address beneath the original had led me to a rundown
U-Store-It facility on the west side of the railroad tracks. It was getting
dark. I thought for sure that I was in the wrong place. The only person I
saw was a man in a bedraggled dark suit pacing back and forth in front of
a bin with a rolled-up door, one hand on his hip. His hair was pale, and he
wore plain metal-rimmed glasses; his tie was loose. While I squinted at
the address, he tossed his cigarette down and came over to the car
window. Ambrose was all wags.
"You're late. I was just going to leave. Where's Lulu?"
"Are you Jack?" I held up the flyer.
He pointed to the brass name tag pinned to his jacket. It said Jack
Martin. Below that it said Bellows Used Cars. "Yeah. Damn, I hate that
flyer. My secretary left the 'r' out of 'Your.' She thought I'd made a
mistake. So, where is she?"
I told him as little as possible, something about the emergency room, I
think, and no further details. But I was rattled and rambling, and I still
don't remember exactly what I told him.
"Okay," he said. "All right, I've got it. Come on. Let's do this. I promised
my kid I'd take him to McDonald's tonight, and his mom is going to pitch
a fit anyway if I tell her what I was doing. She hates for me to do this."
"Do what?"
"My channeling work. She thinks it's spooky."
"Oh."
He opened the passenger door and grabbed Ambrose.
"Do I, uh, need to be here?"
 Jack's glance was impatient. "Yeah. He's gotta have somebody to talk
to. He likes to relate. You can tell Lulu what Ambrose says."
"What Ambrose says?" I knew what he said already. Yip-yip. Yap-yap.
And standard variations thereof.
Jack stopped walking, Ambrose beneath his arm. "You don't know."