"Nayler, Ray - An AIr-Conditioned Silence" - читать интересную книгу автора (Nayler Ray)

His eyes moved over the planes of her face. He saw it then -- the fine lines of strain around the eyes, the mouth, already small, compressing still further with every pressing day. She was like him. His secret would be safe with her because they were the same.

She was breathing heavily, her small breasts heaving under the starched uniform, her eyes wide, flickering across his face.

"Okay," he said, taking a step toward her. "So you know. What do you want?" He moved toward her slowly, muscles coiled.

She backed against the wall. "I don't want anything."

He was an arm's length away from her. "I could give you a part of the take. Is that what you want?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. I want nothing."

She made a frightened motion to the left, and he caught her by the shoulders.

"Where are you going?"

Her face was turned upwards toward his, her eyes half-closed. "To take the uniform off."

"No, it's too soon. Wait for my signal."

She laughed -- a sound like something breaking.

Kenneth looked at the curtains moving subtly in the air-conditioned currents. "Anyway, I don't want that."

She leaned into him. "Is your name really Kenneth?"

"Yes."

"What do you want, Kenneth?"

He put an awkward arm around her, and she melted against him, shivering.

"California."

"Take me."

Kenneth nodded, still watching the curtains. The sun had set, and indigo light bled through the cloth. He went to the window and pulled the curtain aside. The motel sign glowed dim red, the freeway was a red-and-white river. The trees were black and blended in a wavy line with the sky. He took his lighter from his pocket and turned to Tally.

"Turn the lights out."

When the room was black, he raised the lighter and snapped his thumb down the flint. The flame bought out his own ghost, an orange face in transparency, floating in front of the sign and freeway and trees. He let the lighter burn for a long minute, then snapped it shut, and waited. He thought of his foster mother, flicking the flashlight across his face to make sure he was asleep. The flashlight meant his foster father was away on a business trip, and soon he would hear panting and moaning, dim excited voices in the next room. He would lay very still, trying to float outside himself, up and through the wall and into the body of her lover. He had never seen her lover, but was sure that he looked like him -- only older. His foster mother was always breathless when she came in with the flashlight, anticipating. He would imagine her cheeks flushed and rosy. He could feel the light on his skin like an itch, see it red through his eyelids. But he never flinched.

Nothing. There was no answer from the trees.

"Did you notice me before?"

Kenneth let the curtains fall back into place.

"Yes. You can turn the lights back on, if you want."