Читать книгу Black Mad Wheel - Josh Malerman, Josh Malerman - Страница 4

IN MAY OF 2012 the High Strung had just played the record release show for our album ¿Posible ó Imposible?, I’d just set the microphone back upon the stand, and Derek (drums) and I were stumbling out of the bar. From the bar’s shadows, an imp came, a gorgeous pair of bright green eyes and legs so long she must have been standing in the cellar. She spoke, too. “Do you have any more of that face paint?” Before the show I’d used a Sharpie on myself. Easy designs. “Yes,” I told her, reaching into the pocket of my jacket. But the imp had hands and she took hold of my face and rubbed it against her own.

Voilà. A painted face. And the beginning of something, too.

This book is for Allison Laakko, who got Black Mad Wheel piecemeal, spark by spark, as every night I relived for her the day’s excited writing. For that, there will always be a path, tracks, made by a wheel, perhaps, leading from her to me, then to the book and back to us again.

I like that.

We’ll forever know which way the wheels rolled.

I love you, Allison.