"Simon Hawke - The Nine Lives of Catseye Gomez" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hawke Simon)

times I killed because it made me feel good, because the thing that I was killing was the type of creature
Paulie had encountered, one of those sharks who glide silently through life and feed on pain. A thing that
needed killing.
No, I didn't tell Solo what I was thinking about his sister, for I was certain she was one who'd leveled Paulie.
Solo seemed to have reached his own conclusions about her, and, besides, he was clearly nothing like her. If
he had been, he wouldn't have gotten a lady like Lisa to write "Forever" on her photograph.
I realized, as the night stretched on, that Paulie had been right. Solo was one of the good guys. I wasn't
surprised that the flouncy skirt down the hall, with her pink hairball, had wanted to get next to him. He was
the kind of guy who'd attract females the way a bright light attracts moths, a guy with a quiet, inner strength
who had nothing to prove to himself, and so he didn't bother trying to prove anything to anybody else, either.
The kind of guy who knew how to listen in a way that made you know he cared, how to create a space
around him that made you feel you were safe, a man's man who didn't come across with any macho bullshit,
but with a firm and gentle, paternal sort of strength. Men respect a guy like that, because competition and
one-upmanship aren't his priorities, and he's the kind of man you want standing at your shoulder if it hits the
fan. And women can't resist such men, because they recognize them instantly for what they are, and they
also know, having often learned the hard way, that there aren't many of them around. Somewhere, there was
a lady who could give this guy her love and really mean it, and consider herself extremely lucky in the
process, but she'd have a hard time getting to him, because he'd already said "forever" to a girl named Lisa,
and he meant it.
It happens sometimes in your life that you meet someone and you know in fairly short order that this is friend
material, and I don't mean close personal acquaintance, I mean the real thing. I knew it when I met Paulie,
and now I realized it with Solo, too. But I wasn't really surprised. The two of them were both cut from the
same cloth, and Paulie would never have given me, or Solo, a bum steer. I guess maybe I knew it back there
at the cemetery, when I said good-bye to Paulie.
"Well, it's getting late," said Solo, finally, "I need to get some sleep. Feel free to make yourself comfortable
any way you like. Is there anything you need?"
"No, I'm easy," I said. "Any couch or chair will do just fine, or 1 can take the floor, if you don't want me on the
furniture."
"Forget it," he said. "Make yourself at home. There's a nice, comfortable sofa bed in the study. If you like, I
could pull it out for you."
"Hey, I'm a cat, remember? I don't take up much room. I can just curl up on the cushions. I've had lots worse,
you know."
He grinned. "Okay." And then he frowned. "Oh. Something just occurred to me. I... uh... don't have a litter
box."
"No problem," I said. "I know how to use the toilet. Just make sure you leave the lid up and the seat down. I
can flush and everything. Thanks for the thought."
Solo smiled. "Sure. Is there anything else I can get you?"
"A bowl of water somewhere out of the way would be nice."
"No problem. I'll leave it on the floor, by the sink."
"Thanks."
"Well... good night, Gomez."
"Night, Solo."
He got up, and I heard him running water in the sink to Mil up my bowl. I thought about what he'd said back at
the cemetery, about how he and Paulie had always called each other by their last names. Now we were
doing it. The skirt with the pink poodle had it wrong. He wasn't a Jay. He was definitely a Solo. And, in a lot of
ways, so was I. Two solo loners, thrown together by a dead man. Strange way to start a friendship.

Three

SOLO was gone when I woke up in the morning, which took me by surprise. It takes someone pretty light on