"Steven Gould - Wildside" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gould Stephen Jay)

"You'll wash something in hot and ruin it."

"I won't wash anything in hot. Don't worry. See you at supper." I kissed her on the cheek. She
started crying in earnest. I was glad the others were outside, by the trucks.

We drove out, Marie with me, Rick and Clara with Joey.

"Your mom is sad about you moving out, isn't she?" Marie asked, in the truck.

"Yeah," I said. "It's a pain."

She just looked at me and didn't say anything. I remembered that she'd barely known her
mother and felt stupid.

I moved my stuff into Uncle Max's room. Mom mothballed his stuff to the attic a couple of years
ago, after he'd been missing for five years already, so the closet and dresser were empty. It felt weird
putting my things in there.
 Then we gathered on the front porch to eat Mom's sandwiches.

"What now, Boss?" said Joey. He pulled an insulated bag from behind the seat of his dad's
pickup. "Anybody want a beer?"

Marie glared at him.

Rick said, "I'll take one."

Clara had one as well.

"Charlie? You want a Bud?"

"No, thank you."

Joey popped his top and drank a large swallow. "Well, Boss, what now?"

"We wait."

"What for?"

I started to answer, but the phone rang inside. I went and picked it up. It was Luis.

"All right—when."

"What do you mean?"

"It was 'when.' The bank called half an hour ago—the transfer is in. My associate in Austin
transferred it and I put ninety thousand in the working account." The public account was opened
originally by Richard Madigan, an Austin lawyer who went to law school with Luis. He knew about
Luis, but he didn't know about us. He received two percent for his trouble. Luis received eight
percent.