Девять рассказов
A Perfect Day for Bananafish
Onthesub-mainfloorofthehotel,whichthemanagementdirectedbatherstouse,awomanwithzincsalveonhernosegotintotheelevatorwiththeyoungman.
"Iseeyou’relookingatmyfeet,"hesaidtoherwhenthecarwasinmotion.
"Ibegyourpardon?"saidthewoman.
"IsaidIseeyou’relookingatmyfeet."
"Ibegyourpardon.Ihappenedtobelookingatthefloor,"saidthewoman,andfacedthedoorsofthecar.
"Ifyouwanttolookatmyfeet,sayso,"saidtheyoungman."Butdon’tbeaGod-damnedsneakaboutit."
"Letmeoutofhere,please,"thewomansaidquicklytothegirloperatingthecar.
Thecardoorsopenedandthewomangotoutwithoutlookingback.
"IhavetwonormalfeetandIcan’tseetheslightestGoddamnedreasonwhyanybodyshouldstareatthem,"saidtheyoungman."Five,please."Hetookhisroomkeyoutofhisrobepocket.
Hegotoffatthefifthfloor,walkeddownthehall,andlethimselfinto507.Theroomsmelledofnewcalfskinluggageandnail-lacquerremover.
Heglancedatthegirllyingasleepononeofthetwinbeds.Thenhewentovertooneofthepiecesofluggage,openedit,andfromunderapileofshortsandundershirtshetookoutanOrtgiescalibre7.65automatic.Hereleasedthemagazine,lookedatit,thenreinsertedit.Hecockedthepiece.Thenhewentoverandsatdownontheunoccupiedtwinbed,lookedatthegirl,aimedthepistol,andfiredabulletthroughhisrighttemple.
