"Stefan Vucak - Hunger" - читать интересную книгу автора (Vucak Stefan)

She had a long oval face that framed large ebony eyes, a thin delicate nose and
generous red lips. I couldn't see any makeup. She wore a velvety brown-black
dress that clung without being tight.
She was attractive, but I had seen better.
"Not bad," I said offhandedly.
Dan shook his head and gave me a cold grin.
"You happen to leave your eyeballs at home or something? Step aside. This is
man's work, sonny." Without taking his eyes off the woman, he absently placed the
tumbler on the bar top and stood up.
Amused, I watched as he walked up to her and said something. She gave him a
quizzical look, nodded and smiled. I took a sip and when I looked up they were
gone.
I didn't think much of it then, but I remember the angry scowl hanging on the
bartender's face when he gave me a refill. To hell with him. I wasn't Dan's keeper,
and a man was free to run his own life.
 CHAPTER 2
It was a few weeks later that I bumped into Dan again - and didn't recognize him.
I was hanging against the bar for emotional support when this old guy quietly
slipped in beside me. He had peppery gray hair worn kind of long and skin hanging
off his jowls. He must have been powerful once. Now, he was just another
old-timer trying to recapture something he happened to leave behind in his youth.
"Pops," I said pleasantly and nodded.
His clear blue eyes sparkled as he grinned. "How you doing, Frank?"
The voice was kind of familiar and I frowned as I studied him. Then my jaw fell
as I took in the gray corduroy blazer and the dark trousers.
"Dan?" I asked, not believing my eyes.
"I always knew you were a pretty sharp boy, Frank," he wheezed, nodding.
"What the hell happened to you? You look..." I trailed off, but deep down I
knew. The knowledge sent my skin crawling.
"Yeah, I know. I look like hell." He raised a finger and ordered a drink. He
didn't say anything, just stared into space as he waited for that drink. I let him have
the moment.
The bartender shook his head as he slid the tumbler across the top.
"On the house," he growled and stomped away, but not before giving me an
accusing glare. I glared back. Screw him! Everyone was entitled to ruin their own
life.
"Don't mind him," I told Dan.
"Let's find a quiet place," Dan grunted and we carried our drinks to an empty
table tucked into a dark corner. The music followed us, but I didn't mind. Looking
at him, I still couldn't believe it. It had been awhile...
"Dan?"
"I know, I know," he said tiredly. "I'm dying."
"Dying? From what?"
He smiled and his eyes lit up. "Would you believe love?"
"Come on, Dan. I'm serious."
"So am I."
When he looked at me, there was no pretense, no regrets. "It was her."
He didn't have to explain. I knew. "How?" But I knew that too. He shook his
head and shrugged.
"I don't know. There was something about her that made her different from any