"Christopher Moore - Dirty Job" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moore Christopher)

has to go.”)

In Rachel’s room, Charlie said: “If they removed her tail, I want it. She’ll want it when she gets older.”

“Sophie, your Papa isn’t really insane. He just hasn’t slept for a couple of days.”

“She’s looking at me,” Charlie said. “She’s looking at me like I blew her college money at the track and
now she’s going to have to turn tricks to get her MBA.”

Rachel took his hand. “Honey, I don’t think her eyes can even focus this early, and besides, she’s a little
young to start worrying about her turning tricks to get her MFA.”

“MBA,” Charlie corrected. “They start very young these days. By the time I figure out how to get to the
track, she could be old enough. God, your parents are going to hate me.”
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“And that would be different how?”

“New reasons, that’s how. Now I’ve made their granddaughter a shiksa.”

“She’s not a shiksa, Charlie. We’ve been through this. She’s my daughter, so she’s as Jewish as I am.”

Charlie went down on one knee next to the bed and took one of Sophie’s tiny hands between his
fingers. “Daddy’s sorry he made you a shiksa.” He put his head down, buried his face in the crook where
the baby met Rachel’s side. Rachel traced his hairline with her fingernail, describing a tight U-turn around
his narrow forehead.

“You need to go home and get some sleep.”

Charlie mumbled something into the covers. When he looked up there were tears in his eyes. “She feels
warm.”

“She is warm. She’s supposed to be. It’s a mammal thing. Goes with the breast-feeding. Why are you
crying?”

“You guys are so beautiful.” He began arranging Rachel’s dark hair across the pillow, brought a long
lock down over Sophie’s head, and started styling it into a baby hairpiece.

“It will be okay if she can’t grow hair. There was that angry Irish singer who didn’t have any hair and she
was attractive. If we had her tail we could transplant plugs from that.”

“Charlie! Go home!”

“Your parents will blame me. Their bald shiksa granddaughter turning tricks and getting a business
degree—it will be all my fault.”

Rachel grabbed the buzzer from the blanket and held it up like it was wired to a bomb. “Charlie, if you