"Edward Bryant - Flirting With Death" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bryant Edward)

crosswalk and she quickened her pace.

"Last chance," called the boy.

Probably, she thought, stepping onto the opposite curb. My last chance. No
doubt. She let the words cool in her mind. The convertible roared away, trailing
the squeal of rubber and a chime of laughter.

The next block was less populated by passersby and even less well-lit. There was
a movie rental store called Wings Video. She wondered if they carried copies of
Looking for Mr. Goodbar. Just why am I out here? Linda thought. Just going for a
walk. Just clearing her head. Not looking for anything. Not looking for anyone.

Linda knew she was coming up on a club called High Beam. The next block would be
busier. She was paying attention to her surroundings, but still was surprised
when a man's voice came out of the darkened alley beside High Beam.

"Linda?" She heard the baritone, knew it was male. Broke her stride, startled.
Hesitated, knowing even as she peered into the darkness she should be sprinting
for light and other people. Safety. "It is you, isn't it, Linda?" The man
stepped forward and his shape resolved in the light on the sidewalk.

She involuntarily took a step back. He didn't look familiar. He was taller than
she, though most men were. Maybe six feet. She took in the shaggy collar-length
hair, blond streaked with something darker. He smiled and there was a white
glistening of teeth. His eyes were dark; that's all she could tell.

"Yes?" she said. "Do I know you?"

"We know each other," he said. "We've had some long conversations."

She instantly thought back over every crank call she'd ever gotten. Most of them
were hang-ups. She never allowed obscene callers to hang on the line. She
refused to feed their hunger.

"I think you're mistaken," she said uncertainly. "We don't know each other. But
how do you know my name?"

The man stepped farther into the light. Linda took another step back to
compensate. She believed she knew something about body language; this man seemed
to offer no threat.

"Linda's a lovely name," he said. She could see his lips curve in a smile. "You
know the Spanish meaning? Beautiful."

"I think it's more like just 'pretty,'" she found herself saying.

The man shook his head emphatically. "Beautiful," he repeated. His smile
widened. "Do you know the old High German?"