Девять рассказов
Pretty Mouth and Green my Eyes
YouthinkifIwentinandtalkedtoJuniorpersonally,Icould—"
"Arthur,ifyoudon’tmind,I’dappreciate—"
"ImeanIdon’twantyoutothinkIjustcalledyoubackoranythingbecauseI’mworriedaboutmygoddamjoboranything.I’mnot.Imeanbasically,forChrissake,Icouldn’tcareless.IjustthoughtifIcouldstraightenJunioroutwithoutbeatingmybrainsout,I’dbeagoddamfool—"
"Listen,Arthur,"thegray-hairedmaninterrupted,takinghishandawayfromhisface,"Ihaveahelluvaheadacheallofasudden.Idon’tknowwhereIgotthebloodythingfrom.Youmindifwecutthisshort?I’lltalktoyouinthemorning—allright?"Helistenedforanothermoment,thenhungup.
Againthegirlimmediatelyspoketohim,buthedidn’tanswerher.Hepickedaburningcigarette—thegirl’s—outoftheashtrayandstartedtobringittohismouth,butitslippedoutofhisfingers.Thegirltriedtohelphimretrieveitbeforeanythingwasburned,buthetoldhertojustsitstill,forChrissake,andshepulledbackherhand.
