"Spider Robinson - C2 - Timetravellers Strictly Cash" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robinson Spider)

shocked I violated the prime rule of Callahan's Place without even thinking :about it. "Good God,
lady," I blurted, "What's the matter?"
Her head turned toward me with such elaborate care that I knew her car keys must be in the
coffee can behind the bar. Her eyes took awhile focusing on me, but when they did, there was no
one looking out of them. She enunciated her words.
"Is it to me to whom you are referring?"
She was not especially pretty, not particularly well dressed, her hair cut wrong for her
face and in need of brushing. She was a normal person, in other words, save that her face was
uninhabited, and somehow I could not take my eyes off her. It was not the pain I wanted to take my
eyes from that it was something else.
It was necessary to get her attention. "Nothing, nothing, just wanted to tell you your
hair's on fire."
She nodded. "Think nothing of it." She turned back to her screwdriver and started to take
a sip and sprayed it all over the counter. She shrieked on the inhale, dropped the glass, and
flung her hands at her hair.
Conversation stopped all over the house.
She whirled on me, ready to achieve total fury at the slightest sign of a smile, and I
debated gvng her that release but decided she could not afford the energy it would cost her.
"I'm truly, truly sorry," I said at once, "but a minute ago you weren't here and now you
are, and that's the way I wanted it."
Callahan was there, his big knuckly hand resting light as lint on my shoulder. His
expression was mournful. "Prying, Jake? You?"
"That's up to her, Mike," I said, holding her eyes.
"What you talkin' about?" she asked.
"Lady,"! said, "there's so much pain on your face! just have to ask you, How come? If you
don't want to tell me, then I'm prying." She blinked. "And if you are?"
"The little guy with a face like a foot who has by now tiptoed up behind me will brush his
blackjack across my occiput, and I'll wake up tomorrow with the same kind of head you're gonna-
have. Right, Eddie?"
"Dat's right, Jake, "the piano man's voice came from just behind me.
She shook her head dizzily, then looked around at friendly, attentive faces. "What the
hell kind of place is this?"
Usually we prefer to let newcomers figure that out for themselves, but I couldn't wait
that long. "This is Callahan's. Most joints the barkeep listens to your troubles, but we happen to
love this one so much that we all share his load. This is the place you found because you needed
to." I gave it everything I had.
She looked around again, searching faces. I saw her look for the prurience of the accident
spectator and not find it; then I saw her look again for compassion and find it. She turned back
to me and looked me over carefully. I tried to look gentle, trustworthy, understanding, wise, and
strong. I wanted to be more than I was for her. "He's not prying, Eddie," she said at last. "Sure,
I'll tell you people. You're not going to believe it anyway. Innkeeper, gimme coffee, light and
sweet."
She picked somebody's empty from the bar, got down unsteadily from her chair, and walked
with great care to the chalk line. "You people like toasts? I'll give you a toast. To fivesight,"
she said, and whipped her glass so hard she nearly fell. It smashed in the geometrical center of


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