"MacLeod, Ian R - Nina" - читать интересную книгу автора (Macleod Ian R)

The young man pulled up. He killed the scooter's engine.

"Good morning, Sir." He flashed a smile at Max, his shorts showing the muscles
of his thighs. His name, Max remembered, was Vernon.

Vernon turned to Nina. "You got back all right from the casino last night?"

"Of course. But it's sweet of you to ask."

"You know, Sir," Vernon said to Max, "You're the luckiest man on the island. You
have the most beautiful wife."

"I know," Max said. He hated it when Vernon called him Sir.

"Sir," Vernon continued, "you should have stayed at the casino last night. With
your beautiful wife. A great time was had by all."

"Sure," Max said, folding his paper. "But we'll look after our own lives,
thanks."

"Do you have anything exciting fixed for today, Sir?"

"Well, of course," Max said. "We're off to the viewpoint, the top of the
island."

"Not to be missed," Vernon said, smiling widely through his tan. He started up
his scooter. "I'm sure you'll both have fun."

That evening, Max sat on the bed at the Corienne, exhausted. The guide book for
the island said that there were native lads with donkeys to get you up to the
viewpoint from the carpark, which there had been, but they only took you half
the way. You had to walk -- climb -- the rest. Max sighed, remembering the way
Nina had scampered ahead. How the native lads had ogled her thighs.

Nina wandered out from her shower, her brown body gleaming. She was smiling,
singing to herself, some popular tune with words and a rhythm and that he was
too old to understand. Soon, it would be time to go out to the casino again. Max
was already two thirds dressed, in his dark suit and trousers, his tie still
loose. Getting ready for anything, he needed a good half hour's head start on
Nina. He stared down at his shoes, wondering whether now was the propitious
moment to bend down and lace them.

Nina opened the windows on the balcony to the cooling air. Max could feel the
draft dragging at his skin, getting down into his bones. The sky outside was
lavender pink, lavender blue, delicately serrated with clouds. Remembering, Max
took out his handkerchief, the sample. He was surprised to see that that too had
changed color with the darkening evening. No longer blue. He could feel the play
of bruised light on his eyes and face. Perhaps there was something in what the
little man had said after all -- he made a mental note to get it analyzed when
he got back to the mainland.