"Henry Kuttner - Juke-Box UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kuttner Henry)

Juke Box

JERRY FOSTER told the bartender that nobody loved him. The bartender, with the experience of his trade, said that Jerry was mistaken, and how about another drink. "Why not?" said the unhappy Mr. Foster, examining

the scanty contents of his wallet. " 'I'll take the daughter of the vine to spouse. Nor heed the music of a distant drum.' That's Omar."

"Sure," the bartender said surprisingly. "But you want to look out you don't go out by the same door that in you went. No brawls allowed here. This isn't East Fifth, chum."

"You may call me chum," Foster said, reverting to the main topic, "but you don't mean it. I'm nobody's pal. Nobody loves me."

"What about that babe you brought in last night?"

Foster tested his drink. He was a good-looking, youngish man with slick blond hair and a rather hazy expression in his blue eyes.

"Betty?" he murmured. "Well, the fact is, a while ago I was down at the Tom-Tom with Betty and this redhead came along. So I ditched Betty. Then the redhead iced me. Now I'm lonely, and everyone hates me."

"You shouldn't of ditched Betty, maybe," the bartender suggested.

"I'm fickle," Foster said, tears springing to his eyes. "I can't help it. Women are my downfall. Gimme another drink and tell me your name."

"Austin."

"Austin. Well, Austin, I'm nearly in trouble. Did you notice who won the fifth at Santa Anita yesterday?"

"Pig's Trotters, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Foster said, "but I laid my dough right on the nose of White Flash. That's why I'm here. Sammy comes around to this joint now, doesn't he?"

"That's right."

"I'm lucky," Foster said. "I got the money to pay him. Sammy is a hard man when you don't pay off."

"I wouldn't know," the bartender said. "Excuse me."

He moved off to take care of a couple of vodka col-linses.

"So you hate me too," Foster said, and, picking up his drink, wandered away from the bar.

He was surprised to see Betty sitting alone in a booth, watching him. But he was not at all surprised to see that her blond hair, her limpid eyes, her pink-and-white skin had lost ah1 attraction for him. She bored him. Also, she was going to make a nuisance of herself.

Foster ignored the girl and went further back, to where a bulky oblong object was glowing in polychromatic colors against the far wall. It was what the manufacturers

insist on terming an automatic phonograph, in spite of the more aptly descriptive word juke-box.

This was a lovely juke-box. It had lots of lights and colors. Moreover, it wasn't watching Foster, and it kept its mouth shut. *

Foster draped himself over the juke-box and patted its sleek sides. \ Х''

"You're my girl," he announced. "You're beautiful. I love you madly, do you hear? Madly."