"Dennis Danvers - Circuit of Heaven" - читать интересную книгу автора (Danvers Dennis)

She nodded. “Six weeks. But I suppose I told you that already last night.”

“Yes.”

She sat down on the edge of the bed and motioned for him to sit down, but he remained standing. “Do
you have strange dreams when you’re first in?”
He furrowed his brow and shook his head. “Dreams? No, I’ve never heard of that.”

“To tell you the truth, Winston—it’s Winston, isn’t it?—I don’t remember how we met.”

“I bought you a drink in the bar.”

She nodded, contemplating the tangle of rumpled sheets. She couldn’t even remember going into the bar.
“I apparently didn’t need it.”

“Maybe we can make a fresh start,” he said hopefully. “Just forget about last night.”

“That’s easy.” She laughed. “I’ve already forgotten it.” She’d been afraid he’d be all over her, but now
he was polite, almost formal. I must’ve laid on the lonely-little-girl bit a little thick last night, she thought,
and now he feels sorry for me. Truth was, she felt sorry for herself. The last six weeks was a series of
hotel rooms. No friends to speak of. Even her old band had quit or wandered away. She wasn’t sure
what had become of them.

“So what do you say? Seven-thirty? I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

“Sure,” she said. “I’d like to meet some people.”

“Wonderful!” He bowed again, excusing himself and letting himself out before she even had the chance to
stand up. Maybe my instincts about him were wrong, she told herself. Maybe he’s okay.

She finished her coffee, pushed the icon for another cup, and was reminded again of Star Trek. But this
time it struck her—she’d never seen Star Trek. It was an old TV show, she knew that, but there hadn’t
been any TV since before she was born. The only TV she could’ve seen was playing in the corner in
some period virtual. But there it was, this memory of some guy in a funny uniform—Captain Kirk, his
name was—taking a cup of coffee out of the wall just as she had done. Who the hell is Captain Kirk?
she wondered. How do I know this? She shook her head, figuring she was just hungover, still spooked
by her dream.

SHE NEEDED TO GET OUT, DO SOMETHING. SHE HUNTED through her bag and found a letter
from her agent listing her dates for the next several weeks. In the letter was the number of the hotel where
her new band was staying. She called and got John, the bass player. He had the visual turned off, so she
didn’t get a look at him, and his voice was low and muffled. She told him she wanted to meet the band at
the club in the morning so they could rehearse before tomorrow night.

“No problem,” he said.

“How’s eleven?”

“No problem.”