"David Eddings - Losers, The" - читать интересную книгу автора (Eddings David)

"Shit!" Raphael threw off the covers.

"My God!" Flood recoiled from the sight of the huge bruises and welts on Raphael's body. "You mean to tell me you let yourself get in that condition for fun?"

Raphael sat up and glanced at the bruises. "They'll go away. What were you babbling about?"

"We go to visit the fair Isabel," Flood declaimed, "whose hair is like the night, whose skin is like milk, and whose gazongas come way out to here." He gestured exaggeratedly in front of his chest. "She's an old schoolmate of my aunt's, a fallen woman, cast out by her family, living in shame and obscurity by the shores of scenic Lake Oswego some miles to the south. She and I are kindred spirits, since both of us offend our families by our very existence. She's invited us to spend the weekend, so up, my archangel. Put on your wings and halo, and I will deliver you into the hands of the temptress."

"Isn't it a little early for all the bullshit?" Raphael asked, climbing stiffly to his feet and picking up his towel. "I'm going to hit the showers." He padded out of the room and down the hall to the bathroom.

After a hot shower his sore muscles felt better, and he was in a better humor as he dressed. There was no withstanding Flood when he set his mind to something, and finally Raphael gave in. Twenty minutes later they were packed and southbound on the freeway in Flood's small, fast, red Triumph.

"Just exactly who is this lady we're visiting?" Raphael asked.

"I told you," Flood replied.

"This time why don't you clear away all the underbrush and give me something coherent."

"The lady's name is Isabel Drake. She went to school with my aunt, which makes her practically a member of the family."

"I don't quite follow that, but let it pass."

"We have very extended families in Grosse Pointe."

"Okay."

"Helps us avoid contact with the riffraff:"

"All right."

"Avoiding contact with the riffraff is a major concern in Grosse

Pointe."

"All right, I said."

"Do I digress?"

"Of course you do, but I'm used to that. All right. Miss-Mrs.-Drake is a distant friend of your family's, a lady of middle years who happens to live in the area, and this is by way of a courtesy call, right?"

Flood laughed. "She'll love that," he hooted. "Mrs. Drake definitely Mrs.-made, when she was quite young, an excellent marriage and an even better divorce. She's a lady of means now. The aunt I referred to is my father's youngest sister, so Isabel is maybe thirty at most-hardly what you'd call `of middle years.' And as far as `courtesy calls' go, you'll soon discover that the term is wildly inappropriate. Isabel Drake is probably who they had in mind when they invented the word `fascinating.' "

"Why did you call her a fallen woman?"

"That's a tale of dark passion and illicit lust, Raphael, hardly suitable for your tender ears."

"Try me. If there are subjects I shouldn't talk about, I'd like to know in advance."

"Besides which, you're panting to hear the details, right?" Flood smirked.