"Lawrence Watt - Evans - One of the Boys" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watt-Evans Lawrence)

He reached past the waiting woman, key in hand, and opened the door of his apartment.

The familiar warmth and smell of home rolled out, and he smiled; that took some of the stiffness and
worry out of him, just feeling that hot, damp air.

A new expression flickered across the woman’s face, one he didn’t quite catch—he was never very
quick at these things. Then it was gone, and he waved her in.

Rosalie Dutton was facing her moment of triumph, and somehow, it wasn’t quite what she had expected.
She had finally tracked down her hero, the man she wanted—but there was something in his face that
made her uneasy. His features weren’t as regular as she had expected; his hair wasn’t the blond she had
imagined it would be, but an odd shade of light brown.

And when the door of his apartment opened, the air that rolled out was thick with moisture, hot and
heavy, and it carried an odor of ammonia and other things, as if a hundred different cleansers and
chemicals had been spilled in there somewhere.

She entered, slowly, looking around. He saw her throat work as she swallowed.

“You… you keep it pretty warm in here, don’t you?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I guess,” he said. “I don’t like the cold.”

“Oh.” She looked around, at the books, the big table, the hassocks, the single chair. She seemed far less
certain now than she had on the stairs. He wished he knew what she was thinking.

She had expected to find a modest and tasteful little abode, an ail-American setting straight out of fifties
television; what else would be appropriate for a big Boy Scout like Captain Cosmos?

Instead, she was in this sweltering, malodorous, vaguely bohemian apartment. There was no sofa, no end
tables; the furnishings that were there were mismatched and worn.

Her dream was not coming out right.

He closed the door and asked, “Now, what can I do for you, Ms. Dutton?”

She turned to stare at him.

“You’re Captain Cosmos,” she said.

“What makes you think that?” he asked, trying to sound noncommittal—though he wasn’t sure why he
bothered; maybe in the comic books people could be fooled out of such discoveries, but he was pretty
sure he wasn’t going to be able to pull it off. This woman, whoever she was, had found him out.

“I followed you,” she said. “I’ve been following you for weeks, whenever I could, learning your tricks,
and finding ways around them. When I followed you from the reception last night I finally managed to see
you out of costume, and to stay with you all the way here. I watched you go in that men’s room at the
Mini’Mall, and I saw you come out, and I was sure it was you despite your tricks, because there wasn’t
anyone else around you could be, and there aren’t many men your size. I mean, I was sure, but I wanted
to be really sure, so I talked to Mrs. Almido, and she told me about how you go out every night, you’re