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

their best for me, but there was no way to get me out until I’d healed, and no
communication with the rest of the world. The soldiers had cut the telecom lines and
confiscated the radios, but had then become too busy fighting each other to do
anything more to the village. So if the soldiers didn’t hurt me, and the villagers didn’t
hurt me, who are “they”?

There is a “they” in Willie’s story, but while what they did to me was painful,
they did it with my consent. Getting my album recorded and released is worth some
pain. It’s also worth being Christopher for a while. And it’s for damn sure worth
having Lydia Love in my arms.

On the bed. Pin her wrists over her head.

That seems a little rough for a tender homecoming, but I remember that the
Christopher chip is my conscience. I let my conscience be my guide.

I still worry that she’ll know I’m not him, but it turns out all right. If there’s a
difference between the new Christopher and the old one, she doesn’t seem to be
aware of it. The chip tells me a few things that she likes, but most of the time it’s
silent. I guess that at some point, sex takes control away from its participants —
even from Lydia Love and a computer chip — and instructions aren’t necessary.

She’s sweet.

And here I am deceiving her.

But this pang is undeserved. In any respect that matters to Lydia, I am
Christopher. I will live with her, recharge her soul, and give her what she needs
before she sends me away. And then, at last, she’ll rise again from the ashes of her
life to resume her work. Willie can be proud of that.

You are Christopher.

Lydia and I have spent most of the past six days in bed. It’s been a repeating
cycle: Tears, sex, a little sleep, more sex, and food. Then back to the tears.
According to what Daniels and the Christopher chip have told me, everything with
Lydia goes in cycles.
 But this particular cycle has to be interrupted, because we’ve run out of food.
Despite her huge house, Lydia has no hired help; and since no one will deliver
groceries this far out in the Hill Country, one or both of us will have to make a trip to
Kerrville. But Lydia isn’t supposed to leave the estate alone without calling
CCA-Austin for a bodyguard. . .and if she were to go out with me, the hassle from
the videorazzi would be even worse than usual. The headlines would be something
like “Lydia Performs Satanic Ritual to Bring Boy-Toy Back from Beyond the
Grave.” I don’t think she can handle that just yet.

But if I slip out by myself, I tell her, I’ll be inconspicuous. Christopher
Jennings is an ordinary guy. Put him in his old jeans and pickup truck, and no one
would suspect that he’s the man living with Lydia Love. I have the jeans, and the
pickup’s still in Lydia’s garage. So I can hit the Kerrville H.E.B. supermarket and be