"S. P. Somtow - Vampire Junction" - читать интересную книгу автора (Somtow S. P)

You know you're even shorter than in those photos. How old are you? Twelve? But cute.
I'm . . . twenty-nine. I don't look it, right? They always say I don't look it. Now I want to do
a huge feature for the magazine, understand, huge. You don't have to say anything at all
though, frankly I'm just going to make most of it up, like who gives a shit about those
weeny-boppers anyway, huh? Oh sorry, maybe I shouldn't have said shit. They're your fans
after all.
Well. . .
Hey, like this is some limousine you got. Two phones! I guess the driver picks it up and
then just intercoms it back to you? Ritzy. Look, here's the toll booth. Nice night, huh?
Traffic's not too bad either. Sometimes it can take hours to get to mid-town from
LaGuardia.
I've done it before.
Huh? Yeah, of course. You know you got beautiful eyes. . . so sexy. . . if I were a
weeny-bopper I'd go for you in spades. How do you like New York?
Well enough.
I guess you've seen the whole world though, even if you're just a kid. Huh?
Probably.
Where do you get those cute cloaks from, by the way, the ones you do the concerts in?
In Europe. I have them sent.
Oh.
I love the night.
What? Oh yeah, really, like I love the way you talk, you know, really compact, like
those songs of yours. There's never been a teen star like you before, never in my ten years
of working for Idol Magazine. But if I'm going to interview you you'll have to tell me more
about yourself, I mean like what you like to eat and drink, your views on teen sex, your—


Anything wrong?
No. Just. . . memories.
What kind of memories? That's just the kind of thing the fans want to know, like how
you grew up and stuff and— look, the Big Apple already! I know how I'm going to
describe it in the article: "rearing up over the water like a giant graveyard in the moonlight."
Pretentious.
They love shit.
I can see that.
Huh? Oh, yeah. Back to you, Timmy—can I call you that? You and your memories—
(spatter spatter spatter) You wouldn't want to know.
Bad childhood, huh?
Very bad. I've forgotten it all.
There you go, looking at me with those haunting eyes. I'd swear they shine in the dark.
There now. It's not often I get to hold the hand of a million-dollar property—oh, I don't
mean to hurt your feelings—
?
It's all right. They're like ice, your hands! Your metabolism must be weird or
something. You should try more organic foods, you know? Here, I'll warm them. Better?
Hey, this is sort of a turn-on, you know, I. . . oh, your hand, it's burning my breast, I mean
burning, and . . . why're you smiling at me like that? Oh, let me hug you, let me. . . don't
think I'm kinky now. You're a sophisticated kid, but I don't like little boys, you know, I'm all
of. . . twenty-nine . . . want to see them? Here, look, I keep in shape, you know, I. . . how
am I going to explain this rip? You like my breasts? Here . . . ouch! Like glaciers, your