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

That night Jessie had a long, terrible dream, but when the daylight came she could remember only a small part of it. She was standing at the door to the Pear-shaped Man's apartment under the stairs; she was standing there in darkness, waiting, waiting for something to happen, something awful, the worst thing she could imagine. Slowly, oh so slowly, the door began to open. Light fell upon her face, and Jessie woke, trembling
* * * *

He might be dangerous, Jessie decided the next morning over Rice Krispies and tea. Maybe he had a criminal record. Maybe he was some kind of mental patient. She ought to check up on him. But she needed to know his name first. She couldn't just call up the police and say, УDo you have anything on the Pear-shaped Man?Ф

After Angela had gone to work, Jessie pulled a chair over by the front window and sat down to wait and watch. The mail usually arrived about eleven. She saw the postman ascend the stairs, heard him putting the mail in the big hall mailbox. But the Pear-shaped Man got his mail separately, she knew. He had his own box, right under his doorbell, and if she remembered right it wasn't the kind that locked, either. As soon as the postman had departed, she was on her feet, moving quickly down the stairs. There was no sign of the Pear-shaped Man. The door to his apartment was under the stoop, and farther back she could see overflowing garbage cans, smell their rich, sickly sweet odor. The upper half of the door was a window, boarded up. It was dark under the stoop. Jessie barked her knuckles on the brick as she fumbled for his mailbox. Her hand brushed the loose metal lid. She got it open, pulled out two thin envelopes. She had to squint and move toward the sunlight to read the name. They were both addressed to Occupant.

She was stuffing them back into the box when the door opened. The Pear-shaped Man was framed by bright light from within his apartment. He smiled at her, so close she could count the pores on his nose, see the sheen of the saliva on his lower lip. He said nothing.

УI,Ф she said, startled, УI, I ... I got some of your mail by mistake. Must be a new man on the route. I, I was just bringing it back.Ф

The Pear-shaped Man reached up and into his mailbox. For a second his hand brushed Jessie's. His skin was soft and damp and seemed much colder than it ought to be, and the touch gave her goose bumps all up and down her arm. He took the two letters from her and looked at them briefly and then stuffed them into his pants pocket. УIt's just garbage,Ф squeaked the Pear-shaped Man. УThey shouldn't be allowed to send you garbage. They ought to be stopped. Would you like to see my things? I have things inside to look at.Ф

УI,Ф said Jessie, Уuh, no. No, I can't. Excuse me.Ф She turned quickly, moved out from under the stairs, back into the sunlight, and hurried back inside the building. All the way, she could feel his eyes on her.
* * * *

She spent the rest of that day working, and the next as well, never glancing outside, for fear that he would be standing there. By Thursday the painting was finished. She decided to take it in to Pirouette herself and have dinner downtown, maybe do a little shopping. A day away from the apartment and the Pear-shaped Man would do her good, soothe her nerves. She was being overimaginative. He hadn't actually done anything, after all. It was just that he was so damnedcreepy .

Adrian, the art director at Pirouette, was glad to see her, as always. УThat's my Jessie,Ф he said after he'd given her a hug. УI wish all my artists were like you. Never miss a deadline, never turn in anything but the best work, a real pro. Come on back to my office, we'll look at this one and talk about some new assignments and gossip a bit.Ф He told his secretary to hold his calls and escorted her back through the maze of tiny little cubicles where the editors lived. Adrian himself had a huge corner office with two big windows, a sign of his status in Pirouette Publishing. He gestured Jessie to a chair, poured her a cup of herb tea, then took her portfolio and removed the cover painting and held it up at arm's length.

The silence went on far too long. Adrian dragged out a chair, propped up the painting, and retreated several feet to consider it from a distance. He stroked his beard and cocked his head this way and that. Watching him, Jessie felt a thin prickle of alarm. Normally, Adrian was given to exuberant outbursts of approval. She didn't like this quiet. УWhat's wrong?Ф she said, setting down her teacup. УDon't you like it?Ф

УOh,Ф Adrian said. He put out a hand, palm open and level, waggled it this way and that. УIt's well executed, no doubt. Your technique is very professional. Fine detail.Ф

УI researched all the clothing. It's all authentic for the period, you know it is.Ф

УYes, no doubt. And the heroine is gorgeous, as always. I wouldn't mind ripping her bodice myself. You do amazing things with mammaries, Jessie.Ф

She stood up. УThen what is it? I've been doing covers for you for three years, Adrian. There's never been any problem.Ф

УWell,Ф he said. He shook his head, smiled. УNothing, really. Maybe you've been doing too many of these. I know how it can go. They're so much alike, it gets boring, painting all those hot embraces one after another, so pretty soon you feel an urge to experiment, to try something a little bit different.Ф He shook a finger at her. УIt won't do, though. Our readers just want the same old shit with the same old covers. I understand, but it won't do.Ф

УThere's nothing experimental about this painting,Ф Jessie said, exasperated. УIt's the same thing I've done for you a hundred times before.What won't do?Ф

Adrian looked honestly surprised. УWhy, the man, of course,Ф he said. УI thought you'd done it deliberately.Ф He gestured. УI mean, look at him. He's almostunattractive .Ф

УWhat?Ф Jessie moved over to the painting. УHe's the same virile jerk I've painted over and over again.Ф

Adrian frowned. УReally now,Ф he said. УLook.Ф He started pointing things out. УThere, around his collar, is that or is that not just the faintest hint of a double chin? And look at that lower lip! Beautifully executed, yes, but it looks, well, gross. Like it was wet or something. Pirouette heroes rape, they plunder, they seduce, they threaten, but they do not drool, darling. And perhaps it's just a trick of perspective, but I could swear"Чhe paused, leaned close, shook his headЧ"no, it's not perspective, the top of his head is definitely narrower than the bottom. A pinhead! We can't have pinheads on Pirouette books, Jessie. Too much fullness in the cheeks, too. He looks as though he might be storing nuts for the winter.Ф Adrian shook his head. УIt won't do, love. Look, no big problem. The rest of the painting is fine. Just take it home and fix him up. How about it?Ф

Jessie was staring at her painting in horror, as if she were seeing it for the first time. Everything Adrian had said, everything he had pointed out, was true. It was all very subtle, to be sure; at first glance the man looked almost like your normal Pirouette hero, but there was something just the tiniest bit off about him, and when you looked closer, it was blatant and unmistakable. Somehow the Pear-shaped Man had crept into her painting. УI,Ф she began, УI, yes, you're right, I'll do it over. I don't know what happened. There's this man who lives in my building, a creepy-looking guy, everybody calls him the Pear-shaped Man. He's been getting on my nerves. I swear, it wasn't intentional. I guess I've been thinking about him so much it just crept into my work subconsciously.Ф

УI understand,Ф Adrian said. УWell, no problem, just set it right. We do have deadline problems, though.Ф

УI'll fix it this weekend, have it back to you by Monday,Ф Jessie promised.

УWonderful,Ф said Adrian. УLet's talk about those other assignments, then.Ф He poured her more Red Zinger, and they sat down to talk. By the time Jessie left his office, she was feeling much better.

Afterward she enjoyed a drink in her favorite bar, met a few friends, and had a nice dinner at an excellent new Japanese restaurant. It was dark by the time she got home. There was no sign of the Pear-shaped Man. She kept her portfolio under her arm as she fished for her keys and unlocked the door to the building.