"Callahan 03 - Callahan's Secret 1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robinson Spider)

It took her ten years to turn and look at me, and no thought of any kind took place inside my skull; horror fused every circuit. She looked me square in the eye, absolutely expressionlessly, for endless decades, while I marinated in failure and shame. Then her gaze left my eyes, panned slowly downward. It rested on my mouth for many years, moved on down again, did not pause until it reached my feet, then came back up again and paused where it was bound to eventually-but I was centuries dead by then, only a cinder of consciousness remained in my brain to be snuffed by the realization that my erection was now up to at least half mast, and so by the time her gaze got back up to my eyes, I don't see how she could possibly have seen glowing therefrom the slightest light of intelligence.
The animal who sleeps Under my computer woke up and tried its best. It tried for a smile, doubtless produced a horrible grimace. It essayed a merry laugh, managed to generate a hideous gargling sound. It gestured vaguely, attempting a Gallic shrug and failing to bring it off. To all of this she displayed no visible reaction whatever. The old animal gave up.
The first plan I formed was to jump off the roof, but the problem with that was that it could only be done once and might not hurt enough long enough, so I stepped closer to the dumbwaiter housing and began battering my head against it to soften my skull up for the grand finale, and I liked the way it felt and began to get a rhythm going, and then and only then did she burst out into a magnificent bellow of laughter, a great trombone hoot of shocked merriment, and big as she was she was up out of tailor's seat and holding me away from the dumbwaiter before I could deliver it another blow, and then there was a great complicated rocking struggling hugging stumbling confusion of laughter and tears and rain that somehow left us sitting on our asses on that wet roof with our feet touching, both of us shuddering with mirth. We nearly got our breath back a few minutes later, but when she tried to speak all she got out was "smooth" before dissolving into hysterics again, and a little after that I managed to get out, "My Freudian slip is-" before I lost it, and when the earthquake had well and truly passed I was lying flat on my back with rain running up my nostrils and the soles of my feet pre~sed firmly against human warmth. My hands hurt a little from beating them on the roof.
I sat up.
So did she. 'I must have looked forlorn. My erection was gone. "It's okay," she said, pressing her toes gently against mine. "I've heard worse."
"You don't understand," I moaned.
"Admittedly-but I think I got the message."
"But-"
"It was, unquestionably, the most memorable meeting of my life, and nothing will ever top it." Oh, if only she'd been right.
I was beginning slowly to realize that this situation was salvageable-that the disсster was of such epic proportion as to be a kind of triumph. I had certainly made an impression on her. Was this not Callahan's Place-albeit empty~- beneath my butt? Callahan's Place, focus of strange and wonderful events, magical tavern in which nothing was impossible and few things even unlikely? Could there be any better, more fitting place for a miracle to happen than here on Callahan's roof?
But exactly where to go from here was hidden from me. "I'm Jake."
"I'm glad. I thought you might have really hurt yourself there."
"I meant that my name is Jake."
"Glad to hear it. What is your name?"
Better and better. I like them quick. "Damned if I know. What's yours? And please don't say, 'Thanks, I'll have a beer."
"I'm Mary, Jake."
With what feeble wits I had left, I attempted a cunning investigation. "You must know the guys who put in that splendid staircase, right?"
She went two degrees cooler. "I put in the staircase."
"Excuse me," I said faintly, and got to my feet. The dumbwaiter housing felt just as good as it had before; there was just enough give to it to cause an energetic rebound, but not so much as to soften the impact.
Unexpectedly my ears hurt, and the rhythm of my head was halted. "Stop that," she said, twisting me by both ears to face her. "Damn it, I had nO business getting chilly at you that way. I must be the first lady blacksmith you've ever run into, how the hell could you know? You did good:
you didn't look disbelieving, just surprised."
I shook my head. It stayed on. "You're the second woman smith I've met. That's why I'm mad at myself-I should have guessed."
She stepped back a pace and put her hands on her hips. "Jake," she said softly, "you're trying too hard."
"I know. Is it flattering at least?"
Her laugh was a good hearty bray. "Yes, by damn. And not entirely ineffective: I can't wait to fmd out what you're like when you're normal."
I felt my breathing begin to slow and my shoulders begin to relax. "I've always wondered myself. But at my worst I should have known that you put in that staircase."
"Why?"
"Because you look like the person who did it. Everything it takes to do a job that good, you've got, I could see that before you knew I was here, so I should have figured it out."
She dimpled. "There, you see? You finally got a compliment out straight-you're getting better."
"Where did it come from?"
"It spent its early years in the library of a wealthy bishop. For the last thirty years it was in the best whorehouse in Brooklyn, but the place closed down a few months back-"
I was stricken. "Lady Sally's is closed?"
She nodded sadly. "Too much cutrate competition. Changing fashions. Nowadays they seem to want sleaze, and a place like Sally's is out of style."
"My God! I know that staircase! Do you mean to tell me that Lady Sally McGee's staircase is here in Callahan's bar?" I began to smile through my sorrow. "Ah, God, Sally," I said to the weeping heavens, "I'm sorry they closed you down, the world is a darker place-but at least all your treasures haven't fallen among heathens. Mary, where is the grand-old lady, do you know?'
"Enjoying her retirement. This is a good home for-the staircase, then?"
"Only the very best. This is Callahan's Place, do you see? No, how could you see?'
"The way you could see that I was a good smith, maybe. There is something about the place. But I-"
"Be sure. If the staircase had legs, it would have walked here. Miracles happen here-a little like the ones that happened at Lady Sally's, come to think. Is Mike planning to open tonight, do you know?"
"About half an hour from now, he said."
"Then you'll see. You'll like the gang-they're the best family lever had. Did Mike tell you about the house rules?".
"House rules?"
"Every drink in the house costs half a buck. Mike accepts nothing but singles. On your way out you collect whatever change you have coming from the cigar-box full of quarters on the end of the bar-unless you've been visiting the fireplace-"
"Hold it. The drinks are half a buck?"
"Yeah, why?'
"These days a beer in most bars costs more than a dollar."
"Really? I don't go to any other bars."
"And nobody rips off the quarters? He must watch the box like a hawk-"
"Nope. Nobody watches the box. That's some of what I mean about Callahan's Place."
She shook her head gently. "Go on. Something about 'visiting the fireplace'-"
"If you feel the urge to, or the need to, you step up to the chalk line and face the fireplace. You have to make a toast aloud, and everyone shuts up while you do. Then you deep-six your glass, into the fireplace. It costs you your change for that drink, but it can really take a load off your shoulders sometimes."