"Richard Paul Russo - Just Drive, She Said" - читать интересную книгу автора (Russo Richard Paul)

two small bills from my wallet, left them on the table.
I felt a lot drunker as we walked back to the motel. Or maybe it was just
overload. I felt I was moving through water. Or mud. It seemed like a long
trip across the parking lot, but we finally reached our room and went
inside.
I dropped into one of the chairs. Victoria sat on the bed with her back
against the wall. Someone in the room above us kept dropping things onto
the floor.
"When I first opened the car door and saw you," I said, "it looked like
you were trying to decide whether or not to shoot me."



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Victoria shook her head slightly and smiled. "I would never have shot
you."
"Maybe you shouldn't tell me that. Maybe I'll just take off."
"Yeah? Where the hell are you going to go?"
I shrugged.
"No," she said. "I was trying to decide whether or not to take you with
me."
"Why did you? Hostage?"
She shook her head again, the smile gone. "I've been lonely," she said. "I
just wanted the company."
I didn't say anything. She pushed up from the bed. "I'm going to take a
shower." She turned away from me and walked into the bathroom, closed the
door.
Find the gun, I thought. But only for a moment. I didn't really care where
the gun was, I didn't want to have anything to do with it. What I did
instead was undress and get into bed. I was beat, still half drunk, and I
needed the sleep.
But I couldn't sleep. I lay wide awake, waiting for her to return. It had
been a long time since I'd been involved with anyone, and that had been a
woman who spent all her time on speed of one kind or another; I'd begun to
feel like I was moving in slow motion whenever I was with her. Now I felt
as if I had been on speed most of the evening. I closed my eyes, but that
didn't help. I waited.
I opened my eyes to the covers being pulled away, and Victoria standing
over me, naked and wet from the shower. She was a completely normal woman,
whatever universe she'd come from.
She crawled across the bed on all fours, dripping onto my skin as she
leaned over me. She blew air across my belly, through the hair between my
legs. She moved down toward my thighs, and straddled me.
"I'm too drunk," I said.
She looked down at my crotch. "No you're not," she said.
"I'm too tired."
"No you're not."
"I don't even know what you are," I said.