"Steve Perry - Matador 01 - The Man Who Never Missed" - читать интересную книгу автора (Perry Steven)

"We can afford it, can't we? We want to keep the customers happy."
Butch shook his head. "I don' see how you make an' profit, you keep tryin'
to give it away."
"We get by, Butch, we get by."
The pubtender left, looking even more grave than before, and Khadaji
began to work his way around the octagon, smiling at the customers,
listening and watching as he moved.
"тАФholes Uplevels wouldn't know a Scum if it peed onтАФ"
"тАФsaid she's more fucking sensitive than I amтАФ"
"тАФJammy's still knotted in the stretch wardтАФ"
"тАФkid's nine T.S. but sharp, lemme tell youтАФ"
"тАФcouldn't pull it out of her if you wanted toтАФ"
"тАФthe Old Man himself said it, so I hearтАФ"
The flow of conversation was full of the things which have always been
important to soldiers: love, hate, sex, money, family, Uplevels' stupidity, the
campaign. Khadaji knew the talk. He'd only been nineteen when conscripted
for his seven and he'd done six years with men and women like these. Most
of them were young, but the military had a way of making you grow up
quickly. He was thirty-nine T.S. now, he could have fathered most of the
soldiers in the octagon. He felt a lot older than that sometimes, an old man
among children.
"тАФyour ass! Get up, elbow-sucker!" Khadaji froze for an instant, then
turned. Two troopers were standing next to a table six meters away, squared
off in military oppugnate stances, each waiting for the other to make the first
stupid moveтАФwhich both had already done by standing to fight in the Jade
Flower. Khadaji wondered who was on this shiftтАФah. As he watched,
Dirisha moved smoothly through the crowded pub toward the two soldiers.
Dirisha was a big woman, close to Khadaji's own 183 cm and eighty-two
kilos, but she didn't look it because she was so well balanced. She had short,
dark hair, a winning smile when she was happyтАФlike nowтАФand expert
rankings in three class one martial arts. She was about twenty-eight T.S. and
in a one-on-one, could probably take either Bork or Sleel, the other two
bouncers.
Dirisha reached the two men and slid between them, her back to the larger
one. Khadaji strolled closer.
"Fighting's not too bright," she said. "I mean, make a list: fucking, soak-
toke, good wine or cold simshi and where does getting your face smashed fit
in?"
The soldier she was talking to was about eye-level with Dirisha and he was
obviously angry. He wasn't going to let go of his rage that easily. "Yeah?
Well, I don't think dick-nose over there can smash anything!"
Dirisha's voice got very quiet, and she smiled, her teeth bright against her
dark chocolate skin. People strained to hear her. "I wasn't talking about him
hurting you, Deuce, I'm talking about me. You can sit and smoke your smoke
or you can walk, but you can't fight in here." Her voice was even and there
wasn't a gram of bluff in it.
The soldier seemed to wilt a little.
Khadaji smiled. Dirisha could take the soldier without having to suck a
deep breath and the man was perceptive enough to pick up on it, even if he'd
never seen her in action. If he had, he would have sat as soon as she