JК
The Colorado Kid :: Кинг Стивен
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Dave said: “Arig of a question.”
Vince said: “Themain question.”
“Accourse it is,” Dave said. “Always was.”
Vince, quite softly: “We don’t know, Stephanie. We never have.”
Dave, more softly still: “BostonGlobe wouldn’t like that. Nope, not at all.”
17
“Accourse, we ain’t the BostonGlobe,” Vince said. “We ain’t even the BangorDaily News. But Stephanie, when a grown man or woman goes completely off the rails, every newspaper writer, big town or small one, looks for certain reasons. It don’t matter whether the result is most of the Methodist church picnic windin up poisoned or just the gentlemanly half of a marriage quietly disappearin one weekday morning, never to be seen alive again. Now—for the time bein never mindin where he wound up, or the improbability of how he managed to get there—tell me what some of those reasons for goin off the rails might be. Count them off for me until I see at least four of your fingers in the air.”
School is in session, she thought, and then remembered something Vince had said to her a month before, almost in passing: To be a success it the news business, it don’t hurt to have a dirty mind, dear. At the time she’d thought the remark bizarre, perhaps even borderline senile. Now she thought she understood a little better.
“Sex,” she said, raising her left forefinger—her Colorado Kid finger. “I.e., another woman.” She popped another finger. “Money problems, I’m thinking either debt or theft.”
“Don’t forget the IRS,” Dave said. “People sometimes run when they realize they’re in hock to Uncle Sam.”
“She don’t know how boogery the IRS can be,” Vince said. “You can’t hold that against her. Anyway, according to his wife Cogan had no problems with Infernal Revenue. Go on, Steffi, you’re doin fine.”
She didn’t yet have enough fingers in the air to satisfy him, but could think of only one other thing. “The urge to start a brandnew life?” she asked doubtfully, seeming to speak more to herself than to them. “To just…I don’t know…cut all the ties and start over again as a different person in a different place?” And then something elsedid occur to her. “Madness?” She had four fingers up now—one for sex, one for money, one for change, one for madness. She looked doubtfully at the last two. “Maybe change and madness are the same?”
“Maybe they are,” Vince said. “And you could argue that madness covers all sorts of addictions that people try to run from.
Dave said: “Arig of a question.”
Vince said: “Themain question.”
“Accourse it is,” Dave said. “Always was.”
Vince, quite softly: “We don’t know, Stephanie. We never have.”
Dave, more softly still: “BostonGlobe wouldn’t like that. Nope, not at all.”
17
“Accourse, we ain’t the BostonGlobe,” Vince said. “We ain’t even the BangorDaily News. But Stephanie, when a grown man or woman goes completely off the rails, every newspaper writer, big town or small one, looks for certain reasons. It don’t matter whether the result is most of the Methodist church picnic windin up poisoned or just the gentlemanly half of a marriage quietly disappearin one weekday morning, never to be seen alive again. Now—for the time bein never mindin where he wound up, or the improbability of how he managed to get there—tell me what some of those reasons for goin off the rails might be. Count them off for me until I see at least four of your fingers in the air.”
School is in session, she thought, and then remembered something Vince had said to her a month before, almost in passing: To be a success it the news business, it don’t hurt to have a dirty mind, dear. At the time she’d thought the remark bizarre, perhaps even borderline senile. Now she thought she understood a little better.
“Sex,” she said, raising her left forefinger—her Colorado Kid finger. “I.e., another woman.” She popped another finger. “Money problems, I’m thinking either debt or theft.”
“Don’t forget the IRS,” Dave said. “People sometimes run when they realize they’re in hock to Uncle Sam.”
“She don’t know how boogery the IRS can be,” Vince said. “You can’t hold that against her. Anyway, according to his wife Cogan had no problems with Infernal Revenue. Go on, Steffi, you’re doin fine.”
She didn’t yet have enough fingers in the air to satisfy him, but could think of only one other thing. “The urge to start a brandnew life?” she asked doubtfully, seeming to speak more to herself than to them. “To just…I don’t know…cut all the ties and start over again as a different person in a different place?” And then something elsedid occur to her. “Madness?” She had four fingers up now—one for sex, one for money, one for change, one for madness. She looked doubtfully at the last two. “Maybe change and madness are the same?”
“Maybe they are,” Vince said. “And you could argue that madness covers all sorts of addictions that people try to run from.