"Pendragon - 01 - The Merchant Of Death" - читать интересную книгу автора (MacHale D J)

“Hi, Bobby.”

Uncle Press was standing there! Where didhe come from? I pulled away from Courtney so fast that she still had her eyes closed. Actually, she looked kind of goofy for a second like she was kissing air, but she recovered fast and believe me, I didn’t laugh.

“Uncle Press! Hi!” I probably should have said, “Yo!” that’s how stupid I felt. I’m not sure why, either. We weren’t doing anything wrong. We were just kissing. Granted, it was the big-league kiss of all time, but it was still just a kiss. Once Courtney realized what was happening, she went from zero to full-tilt embarrassed. She wanted to be anywhere but there, and I wanted to be there with her. She backed toward the door.

“I…uh…I better go,” she stammered.

“No, don’t go.” I didn’t want to take the heat alone, but Uncle Press had other things on his mind.

“Yes. You should go.” Short, blunt, simple as that. Something about the way he said it made a red flag go up in my head. This didn’t sound like Uncle Press. Normally he’s the kind of guy who would think catching his nephew macking was pretty funny. In fact, that’s exactly what happened when he caught me making out with Nancy Kilgore on the back porch. He just laughed. I was embarrassed as hell, but he got a real charge out of it. He’d bring it up every once in a while, just to jazz me. But not in front of anybody else, which made it okay. This time was different though. This time he wasn’t laughing.

“Good luck tonight. I’ll be cheering,” said Courtney as she took a step…and walked square into the door. Ouch. Uncle Press leaned over and opened it for her. She gave him a quick, embarrassed nod of thanks, then shot me a look with the slightest hint of a sly smile. Then she was gone. Uncle Press closed the door and looked at me.

“I’m sorry, Bobby, but I need your help. I want you to come with me.”

Again, this didn’t sound like Uncle Press. He was a loose kind of guy. My guess was he was in his fifties, but he didn’t act like a geezer. He was always goofing around, never seemed to take things all that seriously. But tonight, he was dead serious. In fact, it almost seemed as if he looked a little…scared.

“But, I got a game. County semis. I’m already late.”

“You didn’t seem too concerned about that a few seconds ago,” he shot back.

Good point. But I really was late, and it was a big game.

“Mom and Dad are already there with Shannon. If I don’t show up—”

“They’ll understand. I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I didn’t think it was more important than a basketball game…or kissing that beautiful girl who just left.”

I was prepared to argue on that last point, but man, he was acting pretty intense. It was weird. Then, as if he were reading my mind he said, “Bobby, you’ve known me all your life. Have you ever seen me like this?”

I didn’t need to answer. Something was definitely up.

“Then you know how serious this is,” he said with absolute finality.

I didn’t know what to do. At that very minute there was a team waiting for me to help them win a county title. Not to mention a family, friends, and an almost-girlfriend who would be expecting me to trot out onto the court. But standing in front of me was a guy who was my own flesh and blood who needed my help. Uncle Press did a lot for me as I was growing up and never asked for a single thing in return. Until now. How could I turn him down?

“You promise to explain things to my coach, Mom and Dad, and Courtney Chetwynde?”

Uncle Press actually gave a small smile, just like he used to, and said, “They’ll understand.”

I tried to think of any other reason why I shouldn’t go with him, but came up empty. So with a sigh I said, “All right then, let’s go.”

Instantly Uncle Press opened the front door. I shrugged and started out.

“You won’t need that bag,” he said, referring to my pack. I’m not sure why, but that sounded strange, and a touch ominous.

“What’s this all about Uncle Press?”

If he had answered the question truthfully, I would have run upstairs to my room and hid under the bed. But he didn’t. All he said was, “You’ll find out.”