"George R. R. Martin - WC 8 - One Eyed Jacks" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin George R R)

you can't make them give a shit when it's crunch time. People don't love you for
money, they love you in spite of it."
Jerry didn't need to hear this right now. He turned to Beth. "Why did you marry
this guy?"
Beth smiled and held up her hands, palms about a foot apart.
"Nasty girl," Jerry said. " I guess it runs in the family." Kenneth fingered a
cuff link. "I don't want to be a pain, but you can count on me keeping after you
about this. You need to find something to do with your life."
There was a burst of applause and people began standing. Jesse Jackson was
making his way slowly from the back of the room, shaking hands as he went.
"I suppose we can expect a speech now," Jerry said, rubbing the back of his
neck. "I'd rather be home watching a movie."
"Democracy is hell, bro," Beth said.
"I'll drink to that." Jerry snagged a waiter's arm and indicated he needed more
wine. The only thing that numbed his butt quicker than politics was alcohol.
After rubbing elbows with the rich and powerful, he felt like staying up late.
Jerry split time between his apartment and his room at the family house on
Staten Island where Kenneth and Beth lived. He'd had to overhaul the place when
he got back. His sixteen-millimeter projectors were shot and the neglected cans
of film had gotten brittle with age. He'd replaced them with a largescreen TV
and videotape. Nobody collected actual films anymore. But there was no romance
in video. It was cheap and easy. He was hardly in a position to be judgmental
about people who went that way, though, considering his relationship with
Veronica. Although she wasn't cheap and was getting less easy all the time.
He was watching Klute. It was a bad choice. At least Veronica didn't wear a
watch while they did it. She probably never came either, though.
There was a soft knock at the door and Beth stuck her head in. Jerry paused the
tape and motioned her in. "Entrez. I'm watching Klute. Ever seen it?"
"Twice, at least." She sat down on the sofa next to him. " I love the scene
where she licks the spoon after eating the catfood." Beth licked her lips.
"You're sick."
"Afraid so." She picked up two other tapes off the table. "What have we got
here? Irma La Douce and McCabe and Mrs. Miller." She paused. He knew she
expected him to say something.
"Yeah, well. I like to mix it up, you know. Murder mystery, period piece,
comedy. I try to get a bit of everything." He shrugged. "I've got lots to catch
up on."
She patted him on the shoulder. "You don't want to talk about it. I can tell. I
always feel better when I talk about things. If I hadn't had some good friends
and a decent analyst a few years back, Kenneth and I would have wound up
divorced."
"I didn't know you two had any problems."
She laughed. "It's tough being married to a lawyer. You always have the feeling
that anything you say can and will be used against you. And sometimes he did. I



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