Читать книгу The Crash of Hennington - Patrick Ness - Страница 31

Eugene’s first job for Tybalt ‘Jon’ Noth was the procurement of a car (—Something black, Eugene, maybe a convertible, a sun roof at the very least), so when Eugene pulled up in front of the Solari in his brother’s seventeen-year-old orange Bisector, the one with the sideboards that kept killing old ladies before they moved the bus benches further away from the road, to say that Jon was non-plussed was quite possibly to understate the matter.

—And just what under the expanse of great blue heaven above is this?

—It’s my brother’s.

—Is he adopted?

—It’s the only car I could find.

—What a curious search that must have been.

—Well, I just thought that, you know.

—Oh, I don’t have even the slightest idea where you’re going with this, Eugene.

—Anyone can get a rental car.

—Of course they can. That’s the whole point. Convenience, you see, matched with desire. It’s called capitalism.

—I thought, I guess, you wanted something, I don’t know, singular.

—Singular?

—Yeah.

Jon blinked.

—Singular.

—My brother’s on a fishing boat for the next four months.

—So this … mobile clown cutlery is at our disposal.

—Look, if you don’t like it, I can get you something different. I just thought—

—I know. Singular.

—Fuck it, I’ll take it back.

—No, wait.

In truth, there was something spectacular about it, if Jon was going to be honest about things. The car was gargantuan with a long sloping roof that ultimately made its way to a third row of seats near the back. The half-dome hood swooped down to meet the twelve-bar radiator with a thud that could have raised mountains. Eugene’s brother had gotten the optional fifth door that served as a convenient escape hatch in case of fire or police stop. And then there were those lethal protruding sideboards. Bisector, It Divides the Road, had quickly entered the lingo as Vivisector, It Dices Wide the Old. Uniambic perhaps, but accurate. Eugene’s as-yet unnamed brother had kept it spotless and buffed to a point where both the wooden and chrome parts shone with equal glare. Such a monstrosity could never have been called beautiful, but it certainly was something. Singular, indeed.

—I’ve either grossly over-estimated you, Eugene, or grossly under-estimated. Either way, I’m curious as all hell as to how things are going to go.

—So you’ll use the car?

—'Car’ doesn’t quite cover it, does it?

—You’re not the easiest person to figure out, you know that?

—You’ve no idea.

Jon opened the passenger side door. Eugene looked surprised.

—I’m driving?

—Wouldn’t you rather drive?

—Yeah, but—

—If I’m going to be seen in this Day-Glo meteorite, I think being chauffeured is probably the only route to take. Wouldn’t you agree?

—Whatever you say.

—That’s what an employer likes to hear.

Eugene shook his head. Jon smiled.

—Good. It’ll be easier if you think I’m loony.

—What’ll be easier?

—To City Hall, Eugene.

—City Hall?

—I have an appointment with the Mayor.

—The Mayor.

—Yes.

—Don’t tell me she’s—

—Yes, she’s the friend.

Eugene turned the key. A sound like a two-story house being shat out the asshole of a zebra ripped through the dashboard. Jon had to strain to hear what Eugene said next.

—She’s married, you know.

—Yes.

They exchanged a long look until Eugene finally shrugged, put the car in gear, and thrust off in a cloud of purple smoke.