JК
The Laughing Corpse :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 153 из 213You want to save me, don't you?"
"Is it terribly naive to offer you a ticket home or somewhere?"
Shenodded. "Terribly. And why should you want to help me? You're not a man. You don't like women. Why should you offer to send me home?"
"Stupidity," I said and stood.
"It's not stupid." She took my hand and squeezed it. "But it wouldn't do any good. I'm a whore. Here at least I know the town, the people. I have regulars." She released my hand and shrugged. "I get by."
"With a little help from your friends," I said.
She smiled, and it wasn't happy. "Whores don't have friends."
"You don't have to be a whore. Gaynor made you a whore, but you don't have to stay one."
There were tears trembling in her eyes for the third time that night. Hell, she wasn't tough enough for the streets. No one was.
"Just call a taxi, okay. I don't want to talk anymore."
What could I do? I called a taxi. I told the driver the fare was in a wheelchair like Wanda told me to. She let Jean-Claude carry her back downstairs because I couldn't do it. But she was very tight and still in his arms. We left her in her chair on the curb.
I watched until the taxi came and took her away. Jean-Claude stood beside me in the golden circle of light just in front of my apartment building. The warm light seemed to leech color from his skin.
"I must leave you now, ma petite. It has been very educational, but time grows short."
"You're going to go feed, aren't you?"
"Does it show?"
"A little."
"I should call you ma veritй, Anita. You always tell me the truth about myself."
"Is that what veritй means? Truth?" I asked.
He nodded.
I felt bad. Itchy, grumpy, restless. I was mad at Harold Gaynor for victimizing Wanda. Mad of Wanda for allowing it. Angry with myself for not being able to do anything about it. I was pissed at the whole world tonight. I'd learned what Gaynor wanted me to do. And it didn't help a damn bit.
"There will always be victims, Anita. Predators and prey, it is the way of the world."
I glared up at him. "I thought you couldn't read me anymore."
"I cannot read your mind or your thoughts, only your face and what I know of you."
I didn't want to know that Jean-Claude knew me that well. That intimately. "Go away, Jean-Claude, just go away."
"As you like, ma petite." And just like that he was gone. A rush of wind, then nothing.
"Show-off," I murmured. I was left standing in the dark, tasting the first edge of tears.
"Is it terribly naive to offer you a ticket home or somewhere?"
Shenodded. "Terribly. And why should you want to help me? You're not a man. You don't like women. Why should you offer to send me home?"
"Stupidity," I said and stood.
"It's not stupid." She took my hand and squeezed it. "But it wouldn't do any good. I'm a whore. Here at least I know the town, the people. I have regulars." She released my hand and shrugged. "I get by."
"With a little help from your friends," I said.
She smiled, and it wasn't happy. "Whores don't have friends."
"You don't have to be a whore. Gaynor made you a whore, but you don't have to stay one."
There were tears trembling in her eyes for the third time that night. Hell, she wasn't tough enough for the streets. No one was.
"Just call a taxi, okay. I don't want to talk anymore."
What could I do? I called a taxi. I told the driver the fare was in a wheelchair like Wanda told me to. She let Jean-Claude carry her back downstairs because I couldn't do it. But she was very tight and still in his arms. We left her in her chair on the curb.
I watched until the taxi came and took her away. Jean-Claude stood beside me in the golden circle of light just in front of my apartment building. The warm light seemed to leech color from his skin.
"I must leave you now, ma petite. It has been very educational, but time grows short."
"You're going to go feed, aren't you?"
"Does it show?"
"A little."
"I should call you ma veritй, Anita. You always tell me the truth about myself."
"Is that what veritй means? Truth?" I asked.
He nodded.
I felt bad. Itchy, grumpy, restless. I was mad at Harold Gaynor for victimizing Wanda. Mad of Wanda for allowing it. Angry with myself for not being able to do anything about it. I was pissed at the whole world tonight. I'd learned what Gaynor wanted me to do. And it didn't help a damn bit.
"There will always be victims, Anita. Predators and prey, it is the way of the world."
I glared up at him. "I thought you couldn't read me anymore."
"I cannot read your mind or your thoughts, only your face and what I know of you."
I didn't want to know that Jean-Claude knew me that well. That intimately. "Go away, Jean-Claude, just go away."
"As you like, ma petite." And just like that he was gone. A rush of wind, then nothing.
"Show-off," I murmured. I was left standing in the dark, tasting the first edge of tears.