"Bradley Denton - We Love Lydia Love" - читать интересную книгу автора (Denton Bradley)

WE LOVE LYDIA LOVE
By Bradley Denton

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SHE KNOWS ME, AND SHE’S happy, and she’s not asking how or why. She’s
clutching me so tight that I can’t keep my balance, and my shoulder collides with the
open door. The door is heavy, dark wood with a circular stained-glass eye set into it.
The eye, as blue as the spring sky, is stating at me as if it knows I’m a fraud.

From down the hill comes the sound of the car that brought me, winding its
way back through the live oaks and cedars to Texas 27. Daniels didn’t even stay
long enough to say hello to his number-one recording artist. He said he’d leave the
greetings up to me and the Christopher chip.

Stroke her neck. She likes that.

Yes. She’s burying her face in my shoulder, biting, crying, Her skin is warm,
and she tastes salty. She says something, but her mouth is full of my shirt. Her hair
smells of cinnamon.

“Lydia,” I say. My voice isn’t exactly like Christopher’s, but CCA has fixed
me so that it’s close enough. She shouldn’t notice, but if she does, I’m to say that
the plane crash injured my throat. “I tried to get a message to you, but the village
was cut off, and I was burned, and my leg was broken —”

Not so much. We’re the stoic type.

The whisper sounds like it’s coming from my back teeth. I’ve been listening
to it for two weeks, but that wasn’t long enough for me to get used to it. I still flinch.
I told Daniels that I needed more time, but he said Lydia would be so glad to see me
that she wouldn’t notice any tics or twitches. And by the time she settles back into a
routine life with me — with Christopher — I’ll be so used to the chip that it’ll be as
if it’s the voice of my own conscience. So says Daniels. I’m not convinced, but I’ll
do my best. Not just for my sake, but for Lydia’s. She needs to finish her affair with
Christopher so she can move on. The world is waiting for her new songs.

And as a bonus, they’ll get mine. Willie Todd’s, I mean. Not Christopher
Jennings’. Christopher Jennings is dead.

You are Christopher. Right. I know.


She’s looking at our eyes. She thinks we’re distracted, and she wants our
attention. Her lips are moist. Kiss her.
 You bet. I’ll concentrate on being Christopher.

Being Christopher means that Lydia and I have been apart for ten months. She
has thought me dead, but here I am. She kisses me hard enough to make my mouth
hurt. Her face is wet from crying, and she breathes in sobs. The videos make her