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

Joey's torturers released him and we fled. Good-natured injunctions about "having a good time"
floated after us. In the car, Joey said, "Sorry about Dad. He means well."

"It's okay."

Marie lived only two blocks from Joey. "I'll wait," I said. He nodded, swallowing nervously.
Marie's father knew about Joey's DWI incident. I got out and leaned against the car, visible from the
house, proof to Marie's father that Joey wasn't driving.

They didn't stay inside long, but Marie's father escorted them to the car and shook my hand.
"Hello, Charles." He always called me Charles. He and Marie left Vietnam in '75 and his English,
though quite good, never lost the accent.

"Hello, Mr. Nguyen. How are you?"

"I am fine, Charles. I've let Joseph know that if you weren't driving, he would not be taking
Marie to the prom. I depend on you to bring her home safely." He paused. "To bring all of them home
safely."

"Daddy!" Marie exhaled sharply. She looked gorgeous. She was wearing something low-cut and
tight in white, with a black silk shawl. In flat shoes she was my height, exactly, but tonight she was
taller. "Show some tact."

Joey stared at the ground.

I held the back door open and winked at Marie. "Certainly, Mr. Nguyen. You can count on
me."

On the way to Clara's, Joey ragged me, his voice pitched in a nasal whine, "Certainly, Mr.
Nguyen. You can count on me."

"Shut up, Joey," Marie said. "It's not Charlie's fault, now is it?"

I looked into Marie's eyes in the rearview mirror. She looked back, worried.

" 's okay," I said.

Joey shrugged and looked out the window for a moment, then said, "Sorry, Charlie. And thanks
for driving us."

Marie kissed him and I felt knives in my gut. "You're welcome."
 At Clara's house we had to go in for pictures. I held my hat to my chest and wore sunglasses
and my black leather flying gloves.

Clara, tall and blonde, was wearing a strapless black gown with ruffles, and her mother kept
tugging it up even though it really didn't seem to be slipping. "Mom, enough all ready!" She usually
wore unisex clothes—men's shirts, jeans.

"Leave her be, Margaret," said Mr. Prentice. "How can I take the picture if you're in the way?"