"Eddings, David - High Hunt" - читать интересную книгу автора (High Hunt)

"It's been real," I told them. "I'll always remember you both fondly."

They turned their backs on me and went on handing out pamphlets.

Farther up the street another young lady stopped me, but she wasn't offering politics. She was surprisingly direct about what she was offering.

Next a dirty-looking little guy wanted to give me a "real artistic" tattoo. I turned him down, too.

Farther along, a GI with wasted-looking eyeballs tried to sell me a lid of grass.

I went into another bar — a fairly quiet one — and mulled it around over a beer. I decided that I must have had the look of somebody who wanted something. I couldn't really make up my mind why.

I went back on down the street. It was a sad, grubby street with sad, grubby people on it, all hysterically afraid that some GI with money on him might get past them.

That thought stopped me. The four hundred I'd won was in my blouse pocket, and I sure didn't want to get rolled. It was close enough after payday to make a lone GI a pretty good target, so I decided that I'd better get off Pacific Avenue.

But what the hell does a guy do with himself on his first night back in the States? I ticked off the possibilities. I could get drunk, get laid, get rolled, or go to a movie. None of those sounded very interesting. I could walk around, but my feet hurt. I could pick a fight with somebody and get thrown in jail — that one didn't sound like much fun at all. Maybe I could get a hamburger-to-go and jump off a bridge.

Most of the guys I'd come back with were hip-deep in family by now, but I hadn't even bothered to let my Old Lady know I was coming back. The less I saw of her, the better we'd both feel. That left Jack. I finally got around to him. Probably it was inevitable. I suppose it had been in the back of my mind all along.

I knew that Jack was probably still in Tacoma someplace. He always came back here. It was his home base. He and I hadn't been particularly close since we'd been kids, and I'd only seen him about three times since the Old Man died. But this was family night, and he was it. Ordinarily, I wouldn't have driven a mile out of my way to see him.

"Piss on it," I said and went into a drugstore to use the phone.

"Hello?" His voice sounded the same as I remembered.

"Jack? This is Dan."

"Dan? Dan who?"

Now there's a great start for you. Gives you a real warm glow right in the gut. I almost hung up.

"Your brother. Remember?" I said dryly.

"Dan? Really? I thought you were in the Army — in England or someplace."

"Germany," I said. "I just got back today."

"You stationed out here at the Fort now?"

"Yeah, I'm at the separation center."

"You finishing up already? Oh, that's right, you were only in for two years, weren't you?"

"Yeah, only two," I said.

"It's my brother," he said to someone, "the one that's been in the Army. How the hell should I know? — Dan, where are you? Out at the Fort?"

"No, I'm downtown."