"Davis, Jerry - Opposite Ends Meet Here" - читать интересную книгу автора (Davis Jerry)

"She's in the need of a bodyguard," Finney told him. "The job
pays an obscene amount, and I can give you an advance." He produced
a large wad of planetary currency, holding it out for Kyle to take.
It was a lot --- enough to make him think twice about what he was
getting into.
"What happened to her old bodyguard?" Kyle asked, staring at
the money in Finney's hand.
Finney glanced down at the body between them, and took a half
step away from the widening pool of blood. "He, ah, retired
suddenly." Finney looked up into Kyle's eyes. "An honest man
wouldn't have to worry about losing his employment in such a way.
You are an honest man, aren't you?"
"Reasonably so."
Finney took the knife out of Kyle's hand, and put the wad of
money in its place. "We leave before sunrise tomorrow morning. Pack
some clothes and a few small personal items and be at the spaceport
early."
"Uh..." Kyle looked down at the ex-bodyguard.
"I'll take care of this," Finney said. "You go settle your
local affairs and meet us at the spaceport."
Kyle shoved the wad of money deep into his pants pocket and,
hefting the gyro stick over his shoulder, made his way out of the
alley. It occurred to him to go to the nearest Constable and report
the incident, as he was sure it was horribly illegal, but the
thought of lots of money and a chance to escape his life of mocking
ridicule kept him from doing it.

#

Kyle's dad lived in a nice adobe style home in the Little
Mexico quarter, amid sleepy neighborhood stores and a nearby
school. This was where Kyle had spent the latter part of his
childhood, where he grew up with friends that, until finding out
the truth about him, had been dear. There had been summers of stick
ball and street soccer, and bittersweet teenage crushes that lead
nowhere. His dad, who was actually his adoptive father and not a
blood relation, was the only person to which he was still close.
Kyle stood for a moment in the front yard, reliving a few memories,
before banging on the old graphite door.
"Who is it?" came a dry, old voice.
"It's me, Dad."
"Well, come on in."
Kyle's father was thin, frail, with faded and baggy clothes
and long stringy white hair. He was 167 years old, and half his
body was artificial. His new heart had been cloned from the old
one, both still in the body and working together. He could easily
last another 167 years if he wanted to, as long as he took it easy.
Kyle gave the old man a gentle hug, then pulled out the wad of
cash. "Look at this, eh?"