"Dean Wesley Smith - Jukebox Gifts" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Dean Wesley)

JUKEBOX GIFTS
Dean Wesley Smith

Dean Wesley Smith, a multiple Hugo and World Fantasy Award
nominee, has published over 50 short stories, co-edited the
award-winning Science Fiction Writers of America Handbook, and
teaches writing all over the country. In 1989, he won a World Fantasy
award at about the same time as his short story. "Where Have All the
Graveyards Gone!" appeared in the pages of F&SF. He has published one
novel, Laying the Music to Rest, and has sold three more. He is the
publisher of Pulphouse, and edits many of their projects. Alter a hiatus
from writing short fiction, he will have over 14 stories appear in 1994 in
various magazines and anthologies, including Grails: The Quest at
Daybreak, and Christmas Ghosts

Dean has a series of stories written around the time-travel powers of
music, using the device of a jukebox. One such story has appeared in
Night Cry Magazine, another will appear in By Any Other Fame, and
then there is this one, "Jukebox Gifts." Perhaps, someday, he will collect
them all so that we can read the adventures of Radley Stout, his bar and
his magic jukebox all in one sitting.



The stereo behind the bar was playing soft Christmas songs as I clicked
the lock to the front entrance of the Garden Lounge and flicked off the
outside light. I could feel the cold of the night through the wood door and
the heat of the room surrounding me. I took a deep breath. Christmas Eve
was finally here.

I could see the entire lounge and the backs of my four best friends
sitting at the bar. I had never been much into decorating with Christmas
stuff and this year was no different. My only nod to the season was small
Christmas candles for each table and booth. Some customer had tied a red
ribbon on one of the plants over the middle booth and the Coors driver
had put up a Christmas poster declaring Coors to be the official beer of
Christmas. The candles still flickered on the empty tables, but the rest of
the bar looked normal. Dark brown wood walls, dark brown carpet, an old
oak bar and friends. The most important part was the friends. My four
best friends' lives were as empty as mine. Tonight, on the first Christmas
Eve since I bought the bar, I was going to give them a chance to change
that. That was my present to them. It was going to be an interesting night.


"All right, Stout," Carl said, twisting his huge frame around on his bar
stool so that he could face me as I wound my way back across the room
between the empty tables and chairs. "Just what's such a big secret that
you kick out that young couple and lock the door at seven o'clock on
Christmas Eve?"