"The Pear-Shaped Man" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin George R R)

УI live just above the Pear-shaped Man,Ф Jessie confessed.

УCongratulations,Ф Santino said.

Later that morning, after she lined the shelves and put away the groceries, set up her studio in the spare bedroom, made a few desultory dabs on the cover she was supposed to be painting for Pirouette Publishing, ate lunch and washed the dishes, hooked up the stereo and listened to some Carly Simon, and rearranged half of the living room furniture, Jessie finally admitted a certain restlessness and decided this would be a good time to go around the building and introduce herself to her new neighbors. Not many people bothered with that in the city, she knew, but she was still a small-town kid at heart, and it made her feel safer to know the people around her. She decided to start with the Pear-shaped Man down in the basement and got as far as descending the stairs to his door. Then a funny feeling came over her. There was no name on the doorbell, she noticed. Suddenly she regretted her impulse. She retreated back upstairs to meet the rest of the building.

The other tenants all knew him; most of them had spoken to him at least once or twice, trying to be friendly. Old Sadie Winbright, who had lived across the hall in the other first-floor apartment for twelve years, said he was very quiet. Billy Peabody, who shared the big second-floor apartment with his crippled mother, thought the Pear-shaped Man was creepy, especially that little smile of his. Pete Pumetti worked the late shift and told her how those basement lights were always on, no matter what hour of the night Pete came swaggering home, even though it was hard to tell on account of the way the Pear-shaped Man had boarded up his windows. Jess and Ginny Harris didn't like their twins playing around the stairs that led down to his apartment and had forbidden them to talk to him. Jeffries the barber, whose small two-chair shop was down the block from Santino's, knew him and had no great desire for his patronage. All of them, every one, called him the Pear-shaped Man. That was who he was. УBut who is he?Ф Jessie asked. None of them knew. УWhat does he do for a living?Ф she asked.

УI think he's on welfare,Ф Old Sadie Winbright said. УThe poor dear, he must be feebleminded.Ф

УDamned if I know,Ф said Pete Pumetti. УHe sure as hell don't work. I bet he's a queer.Ф

УI think he might be a drug pusher,Ф said Jeffries the barber, whose familiarity with drugs was limited to witch hazel.

УI betcha he writes them pornographic books,Ф Billy Peabody surmised.

УHe doesn't do anything for a living,Ф said Ginny Harris. УJess and I have talked about it. He's a shopping-bag man, he has to be.Ф

That night, over dinner, Jessie told Angela about the Pear-shaped Man and the other tenants and their comments. УHe's probably an attorney,Ф Angie said. УWhy do you care so much, anyway?Ф

Jessie couldn't answer that. УI don't know. He gives me goose bumps. I don't like the idea of some maniac living right underneath us.Ф

Angela shrugged. УThat's the way it goes in the big, glamorous city. Did the guy from the phone company come?Ф

УMaybe next week,Ф said Jessie. УThat's the way it goes in the big, glamorous city.Ф
* * * *

Jessie soon learned that there was no avoiding the Pear-shaped Man. When she visited the laundromat around the block, there he was, washing a big load of striped boxer shorts and ink-stained short-sleeved shirts, snacking on Coke and Cheez Doodles from the vending machines. She tried to ignore him, but whenever she turned around, there he was, smiling wetly, his eyes fixed on her, or perhaps on the underthings she was loading into the dryer.

When she went down to the corner candy store one afternoon to buy a paper, there he was, slurping his ice-cream soda, his buttocks overflowing the stool on which he was perched. УIt's homemade,Ф he squeaked at her. She frowned, paid for her newspaper, and left.

One evening when Angela was seeing Donald, Jessie picked up an old paperback and went out on the stoop to read and maybe socialize and enjoy the cool breeze that was blowing up the street. She got lost in the story, until she caught a whiff of something unpleasant, and when she looked up from the page, there he was, standing not three feet away, staring at her. УWhat do you want?Ф she snapped, closing the book.

УWould you like to come down and see my house?Ф the Pear-shaped Man asked in that high, whiny voice.

УNo,Ф she said, retreating to her own apartment. But when she looked out a half hour later, he was still standing in the same exact spot, clutching his brown bag and staring at her windows while dusk fell around him. He made her feel very uneasy. She wished that Angela would come home, but she knew that wouldn't happen for hours. In fact, Angie might very well decide to spend the night at Don's place.

Jessie shut the windows despite the heat, checked the locks on her door, and then went back to her studio to work. Painting would take her mind off the Pear-shaped Man. Besides, the cover was due at Pirouette by the end of the week.

She spent the rest of the evening finishing off the background and doing some of the fine detail on the heroine's gown. The hero didn't look quite right to her when she was done, so she worked on him, too. He was the usual dark-haired, virile, strong-jawed type, but Jessie decided to individualize him a bit, an effort that kept her pleasantly occupied until she heard Angie's key in the lock.

She put away her paints and washed up and decided to have some tea before calling it a night. Angela was standing in the living room, with her hands behind her back, looking more than a little tipsy, giggling. УWhat's so funny?Ф Jessie asked.

Angela giggled again. УYou've been holding out on me,Ф she said. УYou got yourself a new beau and you didn't tell.Ф

УWhat are you talking about?Ф

УHe was standing on the stoop when I got home,Ф Angie said, grinning. She came across the room. УHe said to give you these.Ф Her hand emerged from behind her back. It was full of fat, orange worms, little flaking twists of corn and cheese that curled between her fingers and left powdery stains on the palm of her hand. УFor you,Ф Angie repeated, laughing. УFor you.Ф
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