"James Patrick Kelly - Monsters" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kelly James Patrick)

basket and wheeled it to the cleaning machine. As he gathered the warm
clothes from the drum he breathed in harsh perchloroethylene fumes. He
wheeled the basket over to the empty rail next to the presses. Perk nauseated
some people, but Henry liked the smell. It filled his head like Stairway To
Heaven.

"How do you clean a syrup stain, anyway?" said Celeste.

"Huh?" He started pulling the clothes onto hangers and setting them on the
rail. "You want my job, is that it?"

"Your job?" She buttoned a white spread-collar shirt onto the susie and
stepped on the compressed air pedal. With a hiss, steam ballooned the shirt
away from the form and jetted from the neck and sleeves. "Don't be paranoid,
Henry -- you're the best. Just trying for a little friendly chit-chat, is
all." She pulled at her hair net. "Hey, I'm a slob. Syrup's an accident I'll
probably have someday."

He grunted and hung the last of the load on the rail. "Sponge it with water
then use wet spotter with a couple drops of vinegar. When it's loose, you
blot."

"Now was that so hard? Shit, how come getting you to say anything is like
moving a refrigerator?" She wiped her forehead. Her work smock, already limp
with moisture, clung to her child's body. Pressing shirts on the susie was
hot, dreary work. At least on his side, every garment was different. Henry
didn't blame her for being bored; he just didn't want to entertain her.

Henry was pitching darks into the machine when Kaplan elbowed the back door
open. He was carrying a bag filled with takeout from Rudy's.

"Gonna rain." Louis Kaplan was a pink little man who wore a short-sleeved
shirt and a paisley tie that some customer had neglected to pick up --
probably on purpose. He set the bag on a shelf next to a jug of acetone.
"What're you doing?" he said to Henry. Without waiting for an answer, he
turned to Celeste. "What's he doing?"

"Getting ready to run a load?" she said.

"I can see that. But I'm not paying him to do the idiot work. Where's
Jerry?"

"I didn't know it was my turn to watch him." She pulled a damp shirt from the
blue mesh laundry bag beside her and snapped it out. Kaplan scuttled toward
the front of the store.

"If that's what being boss does to you, I'm sure as hell glad it's him in
charge and not me." She draped the shirt over the susie. "Well, I'm ready for
a break."