James Hadley Chase if you value your life. Audiobook by James Hadley Chase. If you value life listen online, download

Chase James H

If you value life

James Hadley Chase

If you value life...

Translation by M. Zagota

The next, third volume of the collected works of the English master detective includes three novels, the main character of which is a “strong personality”.

Meg woke up suddenly, as if with a jolt, although they had slept for perhaps an hour. She lifted her head from the backpack that served as her pillow and looked around the empty room flooded with moonlight with an anxious look. Above her she saw a thick garland of sagging cobwebs, and a giant spider was walking along the ceiling.

It’s kind of creepy,” she told Chuck when they broke down the doors. Best for ghosts appropriate place.

But Chuck did not suffer from an excess of imagination. He cackled.

Well, okay... Let's keep them company. Anything is better than those damn mosquitoes. They came across this abandoned house when they got off Highway 4 in search of a place to stay for the night. Soon after they left Goulds, the town of lemons and potatoes, they ran out of money. Chuck tried to work part-time at one of the packaging factories, but he was turned away. Shoulder-length hair, a beard, and the smell? The last time he managed to wash himself was in Jacksonville - for employers this was all a worthless recommendation.

The deserted house stood in a thicket of stunted palm trees and lush bushes. It was a two-story colonial manor house, with six square columns supporting the roof on the front; Apparently, the house once belonged to a wealthy southerner and made a solid impression on his guests.

Meg even groaned: had the owner really not found a buyer for such a mansion? And what kind of owner is this?

What do we care? - Chuck answered her perplexed questions and approached entrance doors and kicked the massive iron castle. The sagging doors opened. One fell off its hinges and crashed to the ground, throwing up a cloud of choking dust.

Meg pulled back.

I don't want to sleep there... it's creepy there!

Don't tire! - Chuck was in no mood to listen to this superstitious nonsense. He was hungry, he was tired, his soul was sad. He grabbed Meg by the hand and dragged her into the dusty darkness.

They decided to sleep on the second floor: the windows of the first floor were boarded up. And on the second - the glass, although dirty, let in the moonlight, and you can somehow unpack. And the wide staircase that led up - wow! Meg imagined how, say, Scarlett O'Hara was descending these steps in all her splendor, and from below, from the large hall, admirers and admirers were enthusiastically looking at her. But she did not share these thoughts with Chuck. She knew: he would lift she laughed, that's all. Chuck lived for today and nothing more. Even the future for him is a completely white veil. And for some unknown reason, her heart began to beat unevenly.

The house lived its own life. The wind coming from Biscayne Bay moaned softly under the eaves of the roof. The scraps of wallpaper whispered something. The floorboards creaked, somewhere downstairs a door swung open from the wind, and the rusted hinges shrilly signaled this.

Meg listened for another minute, then, although the anxiety did not subside, she decided that she must sleep. She looked at Chuck - he was lying on his back, his mouth was slightly open, a strand of long unwashed hair fell on her face. Even from her place she could smell him, but what could you do? She probably doesn't smell any better either. Okay, so they get to the sea, take a swim - and the problem will disappear by itself.

She raised her eyes to the ceiling, stretched out her long legs, and ran her hand over her ample breasts, covered with a dirty sweater worn to holes.

She is already accustomed to a life full of hardships, accustomed to being content with little. This had its advantages; at least she is free to go wherever she wants and live as she wants, and for her this is already a lot.

She remembered her father, who worked for a pittance as an insurance agent, and her boring mother. Until she was seventeen, she put up with them, although already at fourteen she decided: she would leave home as soon as she felt the strength to leave. This musty little world of the middle class - she was simply suffocating in it. And when Chuck appeared in her life, she said to herself: it’s time.

Chuck was four years older than her. She then went to the cinema, this rarely happened alone, there were always enough girlfriends. But that evening she wanted to be alone. She told her parents that she was going to the cinema with Shirley. Her parents always had to know who she was going with and where, and she lied to them every time, because she knew: it wouldn’t even occur to them to check - they were simpletons. She lied, even when she went somewhere with Shirley, she said that she was going with Edna. There was a special relish in messing with parents' minds. Yes, they probably didn’t even hear what she told them. They sit with their eyes glued to the TV, and always have the same parting words: “Happy, honey, go for a walk, but it’s not too late.” She was tempted to say that today she had a date with Frank Sinatra, after all, she wouldn’t even bat an eyelid!

The film turned out to be terribly boring; she didn’t even sit through half of it and left. But on the street I began to reproach myself. It's only nine o'clock yet. Well, I left the cinema, what next? The evening is stuffy, sultry, and there’s no point in wandering the streets. And there was nowhere to go except home... but spending the evening with her parents watching TV - she couldn’t wish that even on her enemy.

Aren't you bored alone?

Chuck appeared in front of her, stepping out of the shadows. She looked at him appraisingly. She had seen a lot of men for her age and allowed them a lot, but she did not give up the final frontier - virginity. She liked to squeeze in the car, desperately resist and eventually give up position after position - except for the last bastion. Her mother warned her so many times unknown men stay away that this warning has become across the throat.

Chuck was attractive in his own way. Short, stocky, strongly built. She liked the long reddish hair and beard. The face is independent, carefree, and despite all the irregularities of its features, it is beautiful. It felt masculinity.

They went to the beach and swam naked. Chuck was not at all embarrassed by his nakedness, which killed the last remnants of timidity in Meg - she took off her clothes.

When they reached the sea, he suggested: “Shall we swim?” He immediately stripped naked and, before Meg had time to come to her senses, threw himself into the water. After hesitating for a moment, she followed his example, and then yielded to his persistent caresses.

The first act of love in her life was brilliant. Chuck had many shortcomings, but he knew how to please a woman.

“I like you, Meg,” he said when, having exhausted the fervor of love, they lay resting next to each other. - Do you have money?

It soon became clear that Chuck was truly interested in only two things: money and women. Meg actually had three hundred dollars put aside - gifts from rich relatives, so she saved it over many years - “for a rainy day,” as her mother used to say. The rainy day has not yet arrived, but is it worth waiting for its arrival?

Chuck told her he was going to Florida. Wants to bask in the sun. No, he doesn't do anything special. When the money runs out, he gets a job - whatever comes along, as soon as he saves a little, he immediately weighs anchor. This lifestyle is just right for him. And for her! But, perhaps, too. Three hundred, Chuck said, would last us forever. Let's go to Florida together?

It was this moment that Meg had been waiting for. Last year. Here he is - a man who worries her, and they have similar views on life. Strong, independent, and just the right lover. There was no need to persuade her.

They agreed to meet the next day at the bus station and rush to Florida together.

The next morning, when her mother went shopping, Meg threw her simple belongings into her backpack, wrote a note that she would not return, borrowed fifty dollars that her father kept in the house “for a rainy day,” and left her parental home forever.

Three hundred dollars plus my father’s fifty ran out pretty quickly, what an eternity! Among Chuck's other weaknesses was an indomitable passion for gambling. Meg watched with bated breath as Chuck carelessly squandered her money while playing dice with two guys who stuck with them on the way to Jacksonville. When the last fifty dollars were used, Meg stammered in a trembling voice: “Maybe that’s enough?”

The guys looked at Chuck. The eldest of them asked:

Why are you allowing your woman to boss you around?

Chuck pressed his wide, short-fingered hand to Meg's face and pushed hard - Meg flew upside down, hit the hummocky ground, so hard that it almost knocked the wind out of her. When she came to her senses, Chuck had already lost to smithereens, and the two guys with her money disappeared into the evening darkness.

Yes, that’s what money was invented for! - Chuck snapped in response to her pitiful cry. - There is no need to whine here! We'll find the money... there's plenty of it around, just don't yawn.

They contracted to pick oranges and worked in the heat for a whole week until they scraped together thirty dollars. Then we headed towards Miami again.

Meg woke up suddenly, as if with a jolt, although they had slept for perhaps an hour. She lifted her head from the backpack that served as her pillow and looked around the empty room flooded with moonlight with an anxious look. Above her she saw a thick garland of sagging cobwebs, and a giant spider was walking along the ceiling.

“It’s kind of creepy,” she said to Chuck when they broke down the doors. - This is the best place for ghosts.

But Chuck did not suffer from an excess of imagination. He cackled.

- Well, okay... Let's keep them company. Anything is better than those damn mosquitoes.

They came across this abandoned house when they got off Highway 4 in search of a place to stay. Soon after they left Goulds, the town of lemons and potatoes, they ran out of money. Chuck tried to work part-time at one of the packaging factories, but he was turned away. Shoulder-length hair, a beard, and the smell? The last time he managed to wash himself was in Jacksonville - for employers this was all a useless recommendation.

The deserted house stood in a thicket of stunted palm trees and lush bushes. It was a two-story colonial manor house, with six square columns supporting the roof on the front; Apparently, the house once belonged to a wealthy southerner and made a solid impression on his guests.

Meg even groaned: had the owner really not found a buyer for such a mansion? And what kind of owner is this?

- What do we care? – Chuck answered her perplexed questions, walked up to the front doors and kicked the massive iron lock. The sagging doors opened. One fell off its hinges and crashed to the ground, throwing up a cloud of choking dust.

Meg pulled back.

– I don’t want to sleep there... it’s creepy there!

- Don't tire me! – Chuck was in no mood to listen to this superstitious nonsense. He was hungry, he was tired, his soul was sad. Grabbing Meg by the hand, he dragged her into the dusty darkness.

They decided to sleep on the second floor: the windows of the first floor were boarded up. And on the second, the glass, although dirty, let in the moonlight, and you can somehow unpack. And the wide staircase that led up – wow! Meg imagined how, say, Scarlett O'Hara was descending these steps in all her splendor, and from below, from the large hall, admirers and admirers were enthusiastically looking at her. But she did not share these thoughts with Chuck. She knew: he will make her laugh, that’s all. Chuck lived for today, and nothing more. Even the future is a completely white veil for him.

And nobody knows why she woke up; my heart was beating somehow unevenly. She began to listen closely to the night.

The house lived its own life. The wind coming from Biscayne Bay moaned softly under the eaves of the roof. The scraps of wallpaper whispered something. The floorboards creaked, somewhere downstairs a door swung open from the wind, and the rusted hinges shrilly signaled this.

Meg listened for another minute, then, although the anxiety did not subside, she decided that she must sleep. She looked at Chuck - he was lying on his back, his mouth slightly open, a strand of long, unwashed hair falling over his face. Even from her place she could smell him, but what could you do? She probably doesn't smell any better either. Okay, so they get to the sea, take a swim - and the problem will disappear by itself.

She raised her eyes to the ceiling, stretched out her long legs, and ran her hand over her ample breasts, covered with a dirty sweater worn to holes.

She is already accustomed to a life full of hardships, accustomed to being content with little. This had its advantages; at least she is free to go wherever she wants and live as she wants, and for her this is already a lot.

She remembered her father, who worked for a pittance as an insurance agent, and her boring mother. Until she was seventeen, she put up with them, although already at fourteen she decided: she would leave home as soon as she felt the strength to leave. This musty little world of the middle class - she was simply suffocating in it. And when Chuck appeared in her life, she said to herself: it’s time.

Chuck was four years older than her. She then went to the cinema alone - this rarely happened, there were always enough girlfriends. But that evening she wanted to be alone. She told her parents that she was going to the movies with Shirley. Her parents always needed to know who she was going with and where, and she lied to them every time, because she knew: it wouldn’t even occur to them to check - they were simpletons. She lied, even when she went somewhere with Shirley, told them that she was going with Edna. There was a special relish to messing with my parents' brains. Yes, they probably didn’t even hear what she told them. They sit with their eyes glued to the TV, and always have the same parting words: “Happy, honey, go for a walk, but it’s not too late.” She was tempted to say that today she had a date with Frank Sinatra - after all, she wouldn’t even bat an eyelid!

The film turned out to be terribly boring; she didn’t even sit through half of it and left. But on the street I immediately began to reproach myself. It's only nine o'clock yet. Well, I left the cinema, what next? The evening is stuffy, sultry, and there’s no point in wandering the streets. And there was nowhere to go except home... but spending the evening with her parents watching TV - she couldn’t wish that even on her enemy.

– Isn’t it boring to be alone?

Chuck appeared in front of her, stepping out of the shadows. She looked at him appraisingly. She had seen enough men for her age and allowed them a lot, but she did not give up the final frontier - virginity. She liked to squeeze in the car, desperately resist and eventually give up position after position - except for the last bastion. Her mother warned her so many times to stay away from strange men - that this warning stuck in her throat.

Chuck was attractive in his own way. Short, stocky, strongly built. She liked the long reddish hair and beard. The face is independent, carefree, and despite all the irregularities of its features, it is beautiful. There was a masculine quality to him.

They went to the beach and swam naked. Chuck was not at all embarrassed by his nakedness, which killed the last remnants of timidity in Meg - she took off her clothes.

When they reached the sea, he suggested: “Shall we swim?” He immediately stripped naked and, before Meg had time to come to her senses, threw himself into the water. After hesitating for a moment, she followed his example, and then yielded to his persistent caresses.

The first act of love in her life was brilliant. Chuck had many shortcomings, but he knew how to please a woman.

“I like you, Meg,” he said when, having exhausted the fervor of love, they lay resting next to each other. - Do you have money?

It soon became clear that Chuck was truly interested in only two things: money and women. Meg actually had three hundred dollars put aside - gifts from rich relatives, so she saved it over many years - “for a rainy day,” as her mother used to say. The rainy day has not yet arrived, but is it worth waiting for its arrival?

Chuck told her he was going to Florida. Wants to bask in the sun. No, he doesn't do anything special. When the money runs out, he gets a job - whatever comes along; As soon as it delays a little, it immediately lifts the anchor. This lifestyle is just right for him. And for her! But, perhaps, too. Three hundred, Chuck said, would last us forever. Let's go to Florida together?

It was this moment that Meg had been waiting for all last year. Here he is - a man who worries her, and they have similar views on life. Strong, independent, reckless, and just the right lover. There was no need to persuade her.

They agreed to meet the next day at the bus station and rush to Florida together.

The next morning, when her mother went shopping, Meg threw her simple belongings into her backpack, wrote a note that she would not come back, borrowed fifty dollars that her father kept in the house “for a rainy day,” and left her parental home forever.

Three hundred dollars plus fifty of my father's ran out pretty quickly - what an eternity! Among Chuck's other weaknesses was an indomitable passion for gambling. Meg watched with bated breath as Chuck carelessly squandered her money while playing dice with two guys who stuck with them on the way to Jacksonville. When the last fifty dollars came into play, Meg stammered in a trembling voice: “Maybe that’s enough?”

The guys looked at Chuck. The eldest of them asked:

- Do you allow your woman to boss you around?

Chuck pressed his wide, short-fingered hand to Meg's face and gave it a good push - Meg flew upside down, hit the hummocky ground, so hard that it almost knocked the wind out of her. When she came to her senses, Chuck had already lost to smithereens, and the two guys with her money disappeared into the evening darkness.

- Yes, that’s what money was invented for! – Chuck snapped in response to her pitiful cry. – There’s no need to whine here! We'll find the money... there's plenty of it around, just don't yawn.

They contracted to pick oranges and worked in the heat for a whole week until they scraped together thirty dollars. Then we headed towards Miami again.

But their money didn’t last long: they had to eat something and pay for the journey. Now they didn't have a penny left, and Meg was really hungry. For twelve hours now she had not had a drop of poppy dew in her mouth. The last thing she ate was a hamburger fried in rancid oil... and yet she had no regrets. Yes, she may be dirty, hungry, homeless, but this is much better than living in a hateful prison ruled by her parents.

It’s okay, something will turn up tomorrow. Chuck will think of something. She settled down again, getting ready to fall asleep, and shuddered again and raised her head.

Someone was walking on the first floor!

She clearly heard the creaking of a leather sole, and her heart began to beat faster. Moving towards Chuck, she took his hand and shook it lightly:

He groaned, threw her hand away and began to roll over, but she touched his wrist again:

- Well, what the hell! “He woke up and sat up on his elbow. Even at this moment, the smell of dirt and sweat emanating from him made her wrinkle her nose. - What do you want?

- Someone is walking downstairs.

She felt his steel muscles tense and calmed down. She was in awe of his physical strength.

- Listen! – she whispered.

He shook off her hand and stood up. Walking silently, he approached the door and opened it. She looked at his broad back. He bent down slightly, as if preparing to jump, and her fears subsided. He listened for a long time, then closed the door and returned.

- Yes you are right. There is someone there... maybe a pharaoh.

She stared at him.

- Pharaoh?

- We are violating property rights. And if some pharaoh is itching... - He bit his lower lip. “We could well be punished for vagrancy.”

– We’re not doing anything bad... vagrancy?

But Chuck didn't listen to her. He pulled out an object from his trouser pocket and thrust it into Meg's hand.

- Put it in your panties. If this is Pharaoh, it’s better that I don’t have it, otherwise he’ll find it...

- What is “this”?

- Knife, stupid!

He walked to the door and quietly opened it. Meg saw him come out and stop at the top of the steps. Then she turned her gaze to the bone handle of the knife with a chrome button and involuntarily pressed the button. And then she shuddered - three inches of shimmering steel snapped out of the handle. She had no idea how to put the blade back into the handle, so she jumped to her feet, walked to the other side of the room and hid the knife under a pile of tattered, moldy wallpaper. Then she followed Chuck out. He made a sign to her: be quiet! So they stood, motionless, and listened. But apart from the loud beating of her own heart, Meg heard nothing.

“I’ll go downstairs,” Chuck whispered.

Meg grabbed his hand.

- No need!

It seemed like he was just waiting for this. He seemed to be just as scared as she was, and she was slightly disappointed in him. They listened for some time, and then from the room to the left of the hall came the clear sound of footsteps. A man—only a dark silhouette was visible—entered the hall. Noticing the red light of the cigarette, Chuck immediately calmed down. In any case, this is not a pharaoh. Pharaohs do not smoke on duty.

There was a pause for a minute. The dim silhouette did not move, then the beam of a powerful flashlight hit them, forcing them to recoil. After a second or two, the beam disappeared, and they stopped seeing anything at all.

“Give me the knife,” Chuck whispered.

Meg stumbled back into the room, ran to a pile of wallpaper and found a knife.

“I saw the door was open,” explained a male voice from below, when Meg stood next to Chuck, “so I entered.”

Chuck's hot, sweaty fingers closed around the handle of the knife.

“As you come in, come out,” he growled. - We are here by right of first. So get lost!

“I think there’s enough room for everyone.” I have food. And I don’t feel like having dinner alone.

At the thought of food, Meg immediately felt a tingle in her stomach and her mouth began to water. She squeezed Chuck's hand. He understood her - after all, he himself was quite hungry.

“I thought you were a pharaoh,” he explained peacefully. - Come up here.

The man went into a room near the hall and immediately returned carrying a backpack. Using a flashlight to illuminate himself, he began to climb the steps.

Chuck was waiting for him with a knife in his hand, pushing Meg further towards the room in which they slept. She froze in the doorway, watching with a pounding heart as the uninvited guest approached.

Chuck didn't take his eyes off him either. He saw only a tall silhouette: the man was a head taller than Chuck, but thin and not broad-shouldered. If something happens, we can handle it, Chuck decided and finally calmed down.

“Come on, let’s look at you,” Chuck declared in a businesslike manner. - Give me a lantern.

The man handed him a lantern. Having intercepted it, Chuck sharply directed the beam at the alien's face.

Seeing this face, Meg froze. A Seminole Indian stood before them. On the road from Jacksonville they had met several Indians of this tribe, and now she recognized the thick blue-black hair, dark skin, prominent cheekbones and narrow black eyes. The Indian was handsome and young - twenty-three or twenty-four years old, only his face was somehow impassive, frozen, petrified, and Meg felt uneasy. He was wearing a yellow shirt white flower, dark blue jeans, brown feet were wearing braided rope sandals.

He stood calmly, allowing them to look at him. In the light of the lantern, Meg seemed to have a smoldering fire in his eyes.

- What is your name? – Chuck asked, aiming the flashlight at the floor.

“Pok Toholo,” answered the Indian. - And you?

– Chuck Rogers... And this is my girlfriend, Meg.

- Let's have dinner.

Lighting the way with a lantern, Chuck led uninvited guest into the room. Meg was already sitting there next to her backpack, her stomach sending distress signals.

Pook dumped his backpack on the floor, bent over it, untied the ribbons, took out two candles from it, lit them and stuck them to the floor. Then he took the flashlight from Chuck and put it in his backpack, and into the light he pulled out a plastic bag containing a delicious fried chicken and several pieces of ham.

- Hey! Where does such luxury come from? – Chuck exclaimed, his eyes bulging. He couldn't even remember when last time ate chicken.

Pook glanced at him.

- Do you really care? “He deftly divided the chicken into equal parts, wielding a bone-handled knife.

They ate in silence, biting into the chicken with fury and contentment. Meg noticed that the Indian kept glancing at Chuck. He didn't look in her direction even once.

Having finished his meal, Chuck leaned back and rested his elbows on the floor.

- Well, brother! We had a nice meal! Where are you going?

Pook took out a pack of cigarettes.

- In Paradise City. And you?

– They seemed to be planning to go to Miami.

They lit a candle from the flame.

– Do you have a job there? - Pook asked. He sat cross-legged with his hands on his knees.

- So sure? – Pook looked at Chuck carefully. - Pharaohs do not favor any kind of rabble.

Chuck froze, petrified by such impudence.

“Are you the one who called me trash?”

-Who are you? All dirty and you stink.

Meg shuddered. After all, now Chuck will rush at this Indian with a knife! But Chuck, oddly enough, remained seated.

“For me, it’s better to be a rabble than a red-skinned savage,” he said. – Do you think they’ll hand you work on a plate?

– I don’t need a job.

Chuck became wary:

- Do you have any money?

Pook nodded.

- And how many? Ten dollars? I'll bet it's no more!

– Tomorrow I’m buying a car.

Chuck whistled through his teeth.

- A car? Which one?

Pook shrugged.

– Something cheaper... used. The main thing is that you go. I need a car.

- Honest mother! – Chuck looked at the Indian for a long time, thinking about something. - Listen! What if the three of us started a company? Let's get to Paradise City together... what do you say?

Meg, listening, admired Chuck - well done, without complexes. That's how it should be. If you don't ask, you won't receive.

– Why should we unite? – Pok asked after a pause.

- It won't get any worse for you. Being alone on the road is melancholy. And with us everything is more fun.

Pook got up, took the backpack to the far end of the room, away from Chuck and Meg, and sat down on the floor.

-Are you deaf? – Chuck shouted. – It won’t get any worse for you!

- I'll think about it. And now I want to sleep. Blow out the candles... they cost money. “And Pook stretched out on the floor, turned his back to them and put his head on his backpack. Chuck and Meg looked at each other.

Meg blew out the candles. Darkness closed over them. It took several minutes before their eyes adjusted to the moonlight. Pook seemed to have already fallen asleep. At least he was breathing evenly and calmly.

Chuck and Meg also lay down.

Having satisfied her hunger, Meg, who had worn herself out during the day, fell asleep instantly, and Chuck... Chuck didn’t even think about sleeping, his brain was working with all its might.

Is this Indian bluffing or not? Is he really going to buy a car? Maybe he decided to throw dust in their eyes... and what if not? Then the money is either on him or in the backpack.

Chuck broke out in a sweat. At a minimum, he should have two hundred dollars! A filthy Indian with two hundred dollars!

His thick, short fingers closed around the handle of the knife. The task is not difficult. Sneak to the other end of the room, one swing of the knife - and it's done.

Chuck had some experience in this regard. If he was going into the wet for the first time... but he already had two dead people on his record. One more, one less - is there a big difference?

Then he remembered Meg and winced. There was no need to drag her with him. If he kills an Indian, she will scream terribly - that's for sure. His fingers clenched the knife tighter. Two hundred dollars! Well, she will perform - and we will send her to the same address. When the bodies are found, he will be many miles away... so they still need to be found.

He wiped his sweaty face with the back of his hand.

So be it! You just need to wait a little. The Indian's sleep is not yet deep. Let him forget himself in deep sleep, then... then go ahead!

Gun!

“Go ahead,” he muttered. - I'm already falling asleep.

- We'll talk tomorrow.

Soon Chuck actually fell asleep.

For breakfast, Pook laid out more ham, some stale bread and a bottle of Coca-Cola.

They ate in silence, but Meg noticed again: Pook kept glancing at Chuck, and there was a twinkle in his black eyes, as if he was weighing whether to deal with Chuck or not.

After they had eaten, Chuck asked without further ado:

– If you buy a car, will you give us a ride?

Pook went to his backpack and took out a battery-powered electric razor and a pocket mirror. I stuck the mirror on window frame, started shaving.

Chuck clenched his fists, his face flushed with blood.

-Didn't you hear what I said? – he barked.

Pook looked at him and continued shaving. When he finished, he said:

- I still think. “After blowing out the knives, he put the machine away and took out a towel and a bar of soap. - There's a canal nearby. Shall we go?

Chuck's heart slammed under his ribs. Here it is, his chance! Away from Meg. He would kill this Indian, and then come back and tell her that the red man had drowned. Whether she believes it or not is her business, but she will no longer be a witness.

He followed Pok out of the room. But at the stairs he suddenly realized:

- Crap! I forgot the towel.

Pook looked at Chuck with a straight face:

- Tell her not to twitch. I have the money with me. “He crossed the hall and came out into the air.

Chuck returned to the room, contorted with rage. He rummaged through his backpack and pulled out a damp, dirty towel. Meg asked:

– Do you think he will take us with him?

- How should I know? – Chuck barked and walked out.

He caught up with Pok, and through the undergrowth they headed towards the canal.

Let's take off our clothes, Chuck thought, and then I'll kill him. There's no point in bleeding your clothes. A knee to the groin, then a knife – and that’s it.

Here is the channel. The sun's reflections danced on the surface of the water. Across the canal was Highway 27, leading to Miami. At this early hour there was no traffic on the highway.

Chuck pulled his greasy shirt over his head and flexed his muscles. Pook walked a little to the side, undressed and stood at the edge of the canal.

Chuck saw that his thin waist was wrapped in a plastic money belt. And clearly not empty. Chuck's eyes narrowed. But when he looked at Pok’s figure, he felt a little uneasy. He had never seen such a torso before. The flat muscles rippled with every movement, like ripples on the surface of water. Not a body, but flexible steel... Chuck suddenly lost confidence in own strength. Yes, you can’t take this Indian with your bare hands. However, why naked? The hand slipped into his pocket, and his fingers felt for the handle of the knife.

Meanwhile, Pook dived into the water and, making powerful strokes, swam to the far end of the canal. Turning away, Chuck pulled a thick elastic band from his pocket and wrapped it around his hand. He put a knife under it. Then he took off his trousers, threw his shoes off his feet and also dived. He was a poor swimmer and never felt like a fish in the water. Pok, relaxed, lay on his back. Chuck swam towards him, cutting up the water with heavy strokes. A sharp movement from bottom to top - and the Indian is finished; he just has to manage to pull off the belt before the body goes to the bottom.

They were only a few yards apart. Chuck accepted vertical position.

- The water is good, right? – he squeezed out hoarsely.

Pook nodded.

Chuck paddled a little closer. They were already very close, when suddenly Pok disappeared under the water. It disappeared as if it had not happened, only a light ripple remained.

Cursing to himself, Chuck waited, his eyes scanning the surface of the canal. Suddenly, someone's strong fingers grabbed his ankles, and he was pulled down, water rushed into his mouth and nostrils. He thrashed desperately, kicked his legs, and finally the grip loosened, the fingers on his ankles unclenched. He jumped to the surface, spitting and gasping for air. Shaking the water out of his eyes, he saw Pok: he was calmly swimming away from him. And the knife, secured with tape to the hand, disappeared!

Crazy with anger, forgetting about caution, Chuck furiously rowed towards the shore, but Pook easily outpaced him. He was already standing in an independent position when Chuck, climbing, was just getting out of the water.

Chuck, consumed by rage, went at Pok like a mad bull - his head pulled into his shoulders, his fingers like tentacles-hooks. Pook dodged the attack and immediately, with a deft trip, deprived Chuck of his foothold - he collapsed as if knocked down. At the same second, Pok fell on him. He pressed him to the ground, pressed his knee on his chest, and Chuck saw his own knife in the Indian’s hand. A razor-sharp, glinting blade touched Chuck's throat.

Chuck went cold. He looked into the shining black eyes and realized with horror: now life would flow out of him in a thin trickle.

Pock didn't take his eyes off him, the tip of the knife pricked Chuck's skin.

– Did you want to kill me? – he asked quietly. - Just don’t lie! Tell the truth!

“I wanted to take the money,” Chuck breathed.

– Do you need money so much that you are ready to kill a person?

They looked at each other, then Pook stood up and walked away a couple of steps. Chuck struggled to his feet. He was shaking, sweat streaming down his face.

- Do you need my money? - Pook asked. - Take it if you can. “He patted the plastic belt. - There are two hundred and twenty dollars here. “He looked at the knife and, holding it by the blade, extended the handle towards Chuck. - Hold it.

Stunned, Chuck pulled out a knife. Pook looked at him calmly.

- Take my money if you can.

Chuck looked at the Indian. These sparkling eyes, this stillness... as if a cobra was preparing to jump. Chuck was scared - his nerves couldn’t stand it. The knife slipped from his fingers and fell into the grass.

“So, after all, he’s not a fool,” Pok concluded. - Go wash yourself. You stink.

The subdued Chuck took the bar of soap that Pook handed him and went to the water. He washed and dried himself, Pook, meanwhile, managed to get dressed, sat down on the bank and lit a cigarette. He waited until Chuck pulled on his dirty rags, then motioned for him to come.

Chuck, like a hypnotized rabbit, came and sat down next to him.

“I was looking for someone like you,” said Pook. - A man without conscience. You were ready to kill me for two hundred and twenty dollars... but how many will you kill for two thousand?

Chuck licked his lips. This Indian belongs in a mental hospital. He remembered how the knife almost pierced his throat - and shuddered.

“You live like the last pig,” Pook continued. - Dirty, always hungry, you stink, even if you close your nose. Look at me! If I need something, I take it. I shave, that's why I stole the razor. Chicken and ham stolen from a supermarket. And he stole this money. – He tapped himself on the waist. - Two hundred and twenty dollars! Tell me how I stole them? Very simple. The man gave me a lift, and I intimidated him. With a pistol. And when a person is scared, he is ready to pay to be left alone. I just showed him the gun and he laid out the money. And no problems. Fear makes the rich open their wallets and purses. – He turned to Chuck and looked at him point blank. “I invented a formula for instilling fear in people.”

Chuck understood only one thing: getting involved with this Indian is dangerous. After all, he’s clearly a psycho!

Pook pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and handed it to Chuck. After hesitating, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

“Tell me about yourself,” Pook ordered. - Just without lying. I could use you. Come on, tell me.

- Will it be useful? How is this possible?

Chuck had an eerie feeling - this Indian was not bluffing. Two thousand dollars!

- And what should I do?

– First, tell us about yourself.

Well, Chuck decided, he wasn't risking anything special. And he began to talk.

He didn't learn to read properly. He could read, but had difficulty writing. Mother was a prostitute. I didn’t see my father in person. At the age of eight, he was the leader of a gang of boys who stole little things in stores. Later he became a pimp for his own mother. The pharaohs did not allow him to live all the time, and in the end one of them had to be removed. Chuck was barely eighteen at the time. And everyone in their quarter hated this pharaoh with fierce hatred. Chuck waylaid him and beat him to death with an iron rod. At twenty, he clashed with one kid who imagined that he would remove Chuck from his post as the leader of the gang. There was a knife fight and Chuck won. The usurper's body was thrown into a cement mixer, and his bones and flesh formed the foundation of a new slum settlement. The mother ended her life tragically. Chuck found her with her throat cut. She left a small inheritance - one hundred dollars. What was Chuck to do? He left his native neighborhood forever and began to wander. He spent the whole of last year wandering around, living wherever he had to, life was not easy, but he wasn’t very upset, because he didn’t care about anything in this world.

He threw the cigarette butt into the canal.

- That's my whole biography. So what about two thousand dollars?

- So you have two murders. – Pook looked at him carefully. - If you come to my business, you will have to kill more. Are you ready for this?

“It would be better not to expose yourself,” Chuck said after a long pause. - So what about the money?

“Two thousand will be your share.”

Chuck's breath caught.

- And what should you do with that kind of money?

“My plan is thought out to the last detail, it will work, there’s nothing to think about, but I can’t do it alone.” Tell me about your girl. It might come in handy too.

- Meg? – Chuck shrugged. - She ran away from home. The chick is suitable. I have nothing more to say about her.

- She might come in handy too.

Chuck narrowed his eyes and thought. Then he reluctantly shook his head:

“She won’t mess with a wet case.”

- I need a girl. This is part of my plan. Can you persuade her?

- How do I know? You don't tell me what to do! What kind of plan is that?

Pook looked at him coldly. From this look of shiny black eyes, Chuck again felt uneasy.

– Do you really want to know?

– What does “exactly” mean? Of course, I want it!

– You just said that it would be better not to expose yourself.

- For two thousand dollars you can stick your head out. Well, what's the plan?

Pook didn't take his gaze off him.

“If I tell you, and then you decide to refuse, you won’t leave here alive.” I have been hatching this plan for a long time. And if I reveal it to you, it will no longer be my secret, right? So there's no turning back. Either you are with me or you are dead.

A blunt-nosed pistol appeared in the Indian's hand. It just didn’t happen, and suddenly... like a magician. Chuck pulled back. He was afraid of weapons.

- So decide.

Chuck looked at the gun.

- If you don’t want to, be healthy, I’ll find someone else. But if you say “yes” now, don’t refuse later.

- How much will I earn from this? – Chuck asked to gain time.

- I said... two thousand dollars.

– And these murders... will everything be covered up?

“You’ll have to kill three people... everything will be covered up.” My plan is solid. I’m not going to expose myself, but my share will be greater than yours.

Two thousand dollars! This is a fortune!

- I agree. “Let’s tell you,” he said.

Pook put the gun in his pocket.

- And the girl?

- I'll take it upon myself. I'll persuade you.

“Fear is the key that opens wallets and purses,” Pook repeated. “I invented a formula for instilling fear in people.”

A brown, motionless face, sparkling eyes, some kind of unnatural calm... Chuck almost shouted: don’t, don’t say anything! But again I thought about money and forced myself to remain silent.

A drop of sweat ran down his forehead, rolled out over the bridge of his nose, and fell from his nose onto his chin.

Listening to the Indian's plan, Chuck understood: yes, there really is a lot of money to be made here.

“We need a rifle with a telescopic sight,” Pook said in conclusion. “I know a gunsmith in Paradise City, there won’t be any problems.” As soon as we take out the rifle, we get to work.

– Do you know Paradise City? – Chuck asked.

A strange, bitter smile played on Pok’s lips.

- Yes. I once lived there. Yes, I know him.

Chuck's curiosity awoke. He told the Indian all his secrets. Should he say at least something about himself in return?

- Did you work there?

Pook stood up.

- Now the car is next in line. “He looked at Chuck carefully. - Are you with me?

Chuck nodded.

- With you.

- Talk to the girl. If you're not sure about it, we'll leave it here. Let's find another one.

Pook headed towards the highway. Chuck looked after him, then picked up a towel and with a heavy heart wandered towards the ownerless house.

Chuck let Meg swim in the canal, and when she began to dry her hair, he sat down with her on the shore.

Half an hour ago, Meg, all exhausted from anticipation, pounced on Chuck: well, will Pook take them with him in the car or not?

“Go wash yourself,” Chuck told her. – Then we’ll talk.

Now that he sat down next to her, she repeated the question:

-Are we going with him?

“I am,” Chuck answered without looking at her.

Meg dropped the towel. She went cold with fear.

- Are you? And I?

Chuck pulled out a handful of grass and tossed it into the air.

- Like this? – Meg rose to her knees. - Are you leaving me?

He saw panic in her eyes, but hid his grin. He leaned back, put his hands under his head and stared at blue sky.

“You see, baby, I’m tired of this kind of life.” I need money. “He pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. - Will you smoke?

- Chuck! Do you really want to leave me?

He slowly lit a cigarette.

-Can you listen? “So, in order to earn big, you have to take risks,” he finally said, and Meg stood on her knees next to him and looked at him with fear. “I don’t want to drag you into anything like that, so I think it’s better for us to part ways.”

Meg closed her eyes.

“It turns out that you don’t need me anymore... are you tired of me?”

- Did I really say that? – Chuck took a deep drag, then blew smoke through his nostrils. – Can’t you hear me? I care about you. I like you, and I don’t want to involve you in a dangerous matter. I don’t want to lose you, but you simply don’t have the guts for it, so it’s better to break up.

- On this? For what exactly... for this? – Meg almost squealed.

– Pook is going to pull off one clever trick. For this he needs me and another girl. – Chuck was pleased with himself: he structured the conversation correctly. - Only the case may not work out. And you'll end up in jail for twenty years.

Meg went cold. This means they are planning some kind of crime! She had been with Chuck for two months now, and although he often chatted about stealing, things didn't go any further. It didn’t work because she played her role. Every time she begged him not to steal, although sometimes their stomachs would upset them. And now she realized: Chuck fell under the influence of this Indian! He pushes Chuck to the abyss with his stories!

- Chuck! “She grabbed his hand. - Let's run away from here before he returns! He's shifted. I see. Let's get a job somewhere. So far we've managed. I will do everything for you... I...

- Shut up! – Chuck snapped. “I’m going with him, so give me a concert and don’t start crying.” And get a job yourself... if you like it. Do you really want to be stuck in the sun for the rest of your life, picking these damn oranges? Then good luck – the road is open!

Meg realized: You can't move Chuck. And then she began to shake with despair. Picking oranges? It's either this or go home! And at home... parents, breakfast, lunch and dinner, tired classes, getting up in the morning, then going to work to my father, pounding on the typewriter until stupefaction, babbles in the evening, and getting up again in the morning, work, and so on ad infinitum.

“Will they also give you twenty years?” – she asked.

Chuck crushed his cigarette.

- Of course, if we puncture, we won’t puncture, and anyway, I don’t care! I want to quickly take big money, and here we will take it! Pook says that he will pay you five hundredths. He thinks that you will take on this work, but I think that you won’t. I told him: such promotion is not for you. - He scratched his beard. – You have no guts for this.

The prospect of getting rich left Meg indifferent, but being left alone... After two months with Chuck, she simply couldn’t imagine life without him.

– What will I have to do?

Chuck turned his head away so she wouldn't see the spark of triumph in his eyes.

- What will they say? Understand, baby, the less you know about everything, the safer it is for both you and me. We will take you on one condition: you unquestioningly follow all orders. For now, don’t ask any questions. Your share is five hundred dollars. As soon as we remove the foam, you and I will reel in our fishing rods and head to Los Angeles!

- But, Chuck, it's not fair! How so! I don't even know what I'm agreeing to! – Meg pounded her clenched fists on her knees. “You yourself say that I could end up in prison for twenty years, but you don’t tell me what’s going on... It’s so unfair!”

- You're right, but these are the conditions. – Chuck rose to his feet. - No one is forcing you, baby, you don’t have to agree. You still have time to think. Pok and I are filming in half an hour. So decide for yourself whether to come with us or not.

He was sure that she would not go anywhere.

He started to walk away, but then he heard:

- Well?

- Do you trust him?

“I don’t trust anyone, including you,” Chuck snapped. “And I never trusted it, but I know: you can make a lot of money here.” And I know another thing: we will hit a big jackpot quickly, but I sneezed at the rest. You have half an hour to think about it. “He looked at her carefully. – And remember, baby, if you’re with us, then you’re with us... there’s no turning back... you understand? - With these words he left.

Meg sat for a long time and looked at the glistening water of the canal. Pook filled her soul with fear. Something sinister emanated from him, and he was touched. And if she says “no” now, Chuck is lost to her. Well, she finally told herself, if things get really unbearable, she can always commit suicide. If anything truly belongs to her, it's own life. Her only asset. You swallow a handful of pills, hit your hands with a blade and hello... anything, just not to be left here without Chuck, without a penny of money, all alone.

She got up and went to the ownerless house. Chuck had already packed his backpack and was sitting at the top of the stairs, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. He looked at her, tobacco smoke his small eyes seemed to be slightly squinting.

“I’ll get ready now,” she said. - I'm going with you.

– Will you do whatever you are told... without question?

She nodded.

Chuck's grin suddenly turned into a warm and friendly smile.

- So that's great. You know?

“I really don’t want to lose you.”

A lump rose in Meg's throat and she almost burst into tears. She had never heard anything more pleasant in her life. Her pale, emaciated face lit up, and Chuck realized: he had said exactly what was needed. He stood up and she threw herself into his arms. Chuck grabbed Meg and hugged her tightly.

– Chuck... But are you sure that the case will work out? “She had chills. - I'm scared. This Indian... he's crazy... I feel it.

“Lean on me, baby.” I'll deal with him. Go pack.

Twenty minutes later, Pok Toholo pulled up in an old Buick convertible. The car was slightly shabby, but the chrome parts shone like new. An inconspicuous car: dark blue with a dark blue top, faded red leather seats; in the thousands of cars that rush along Highway 4, it certainly won’t attract anyone’s attention.

Seeing Chuck and Meg sitting on the steps with backpacks, Pook realized that Chuck had played his game right. He got out of the car and approached them.

- Everything is fine? - he asked, looking at Meg.

She nodded, internally shrinking under the gaze of his black shiny eyes.

Then he turned to Chuck:

– Our first stop is in Fulford. Shave your beard and get a haircut. In Paradise City we must look decent - respectable people have come to relax. And you'll have to wash your clothes.

Chuck winced with displeasure. He was proud of his beard and tufts.

“Okay,” he agreed, shrugging his shoulders. - As you say.

Picking up two backpacks, he and Pok went to the car.

Meg sat for a long minute, baking in the sun, but then Pook started the engine, and she, shrugging her shoulders helplessly, climbed into the car.

Books enlighten the soul, elevate and strengthen a person, awaken in him the best aspirations, sharpen his mind and soften his heart.

William Thackeray, English satirist

A book is a huge force.

Vladimir Ilyich Lenin, Soviet revolutionary

Without books, we can now neither live, nor fight, nor suffer, nor rejoice and win, nor confidently move towards that reasonable and beautiful future in which we unshakably believe.

Many thousands of years ago, a book in hands best representatives humanity became one of the main weapons in their struggle for truth and justice, and it was this weapon that gave these people terrible strength.

Nikolai Rubakin, Russian bibliologist, bibliographer.

A book is a working tool. But not only. It introduces people to the lives and struggles of other people, makes it possible to understand their experiences, their thoughts, their aspirations; it makes it possible to compare, understand the environment and transform it.

Stanislav Strumilin, academician of the USSR Academy of Sciences

No the best remedy to refresh the mind, like reading the ancient classics; As soon as you take one of them in your hands, even for half an hour, you immediately feel refreshed, lightened and cleansed, lifted and strengthened, as if you had refreshed yourself by bathing in a clean spring.

Arthur Schopenhauer, German philosopher

Anyone who was not familiar with the creations of the ancients lived without knowing beauty.

Georg Hegel, German philosopher

No failures of history and blind spaces of time are able to destroy human thought, enshrined in hundreds, thousands and millions of manuscripts and books.

Konstantin Paustovsky, Russian Soviet writer

The book is a magician. The book transformed the world. It contains the memory of the human race, it is the mouthpiece of human thought. A world without a book is a world of savages.

Nikolai Morozov, creator of modern scientific chronology

Books are a spiritual testament from one generation to another, advice from a dying old man to a young man beginning to live, an order passed on to a sentry going on vacation to a sentry taking his place.

Without books, human life is empty. The book is not only our friend, but also our constant, eternal companion.

Demyan Bedny, Russian Soviet writer, poet, publicist

A book is a powerful tool of communication, labor, and struggle. It equips a person with the experience of life and the struggle of humanity, expands his horizon, gives him knowledge with the help of which he can force the forces of nature to serve him.

Nadezhda Krupskaya, Russian revolutionary, Soviet party, public and cultural figure.

Reading good books is a conversation with the most the best people past times, and, moreover, such a conversation when they tell us only their best thoughts.

Rene Descartes, French philosopher, mathematician, physicist and physiologist

Reading is one of the sources of thinking and mental development.

Vasily Sukhomlinsky, an outstanding Soviet teacher-innovator.

Reading for the mind is the same as physical exercise for body.

Joseph Addison English poet and satirist

Good book- exactly a conversation with smart person. The reader receives from her knowledge and a generalization of reality, the ability to understand life.

Alexei Tolstoy, Russian Soviet writer and public figure

Do not forget that the most colossal weapon of multifaceted education is reading.

Alexander Herzen, Russian publicist, writer, philosopher

Without reading there is no real education, there is no and there can be no taste, no speech, no multifaceted breadth of understanding; Goethe and Shakespeare are equal to a whole university. By reading a person survives centuries.

Alexander Herzen, Russian publicist, writer, philosopher

Here you will find audiobooks by Russian, Soviet, Russian and foreign writers on various topics! We have collected for you masterpieces of literature from and. Also on the site are audiobooks with poems and poets; lovers of detective stories, action films, and audiobooks will find interesting audiobooks. We can offer women, and for women, we will periodically offer fairy tales and audiobooks from school curriculum. Children will also be interested in audiobooks about. We also have something to offer to fans: audiobooks from the “Stalker” series, “Metro 2033”..., and much more from . Who wants to tickle their nerves: go to the section

James Hadley Chase

If you value life

Meg woke up suddenly, as if with a jolt, although they had slept for perhaps an hour. She lifted her head from the backpack that served as her pillow and looked around the empty room flooded with moonlight with an anxious look. Above her she saw a thick garland of sagging cobwebs, and a giant spider was walking along the ceiling.

“It’s kind of creepy,” she said to Chuck when they broke down the doors. - This is the best place for ghosts.

But Chuck did not suffer from an excess of imagination. He cackled.

- Well, okay... Let's keep them company. Anything is better than those damn mosquitoes.

They came across this abandoned house when they got off Highway 4 in search of a place to stay. Soon after they left Goulds, the town of lemons and potatoes, they ran out of money. Chuck tried to work part-time at one of the packaging factories, but he was turned away. Shoulder-length hair, a beard, and the smell? The last time he managed to wash himself was in Jacksonville - for employers this was all a useless recommendation.

The deserted house stood in a thicket of stunted palm trees and lush bushes. It was a two-story colonial manor house, with six square columns supporting the roof on the front; Apparently, the house once belonged to a wealthy southerner and made a solid impression on his guests.

Meg even groaned: had the owner really not found a buyer for such a mansion? And what kind of owner is this?

- What do we care? – Chuck answered her perplexed questions, walked up to the front doors and kicked the massive iron lock. The sagging doors opened. One fell off its hinges and crashed to the ground, throwing up a cloud of choking dust.

Meg pulled back.

– I don’t want to sleep there... it’s creepy there!

- Don't tire me! – Chuck was in no mood to listen to this superstitious nonsense. He was hungry, he was tired, his soul was sad. Grabbing Meg by the hand, he dragged her into the dusty darkness.

They decided to sleep on the second floor: the windows of the first floor were boarded up. And on the second, the glass, although dirty, let in the moonlight, and you can somehow unpack. And the wide staircase that led up – wow! Meg imagined how, say, Scarlett O'Hara was descending these steps in all her splendor, and from below, from the large hall, admirers and admirers were enthusiastically looking at her. But she did not share these thoughts with Chuck. She knew: he will make her laugh, that’s all. Chuck lived for today, and nothing more. Even the future is a completely white veil for him.

And nobody knows why she woke up; my heart was beating somehow unevenly. She began to listen closely to the night.

The house lived its own life. The wind coming from Biscayne Bay moaned softly under the eaves of the roof. The scraps of wallpaper whispered something. The floorboards creaked, somewhere downstairs a door swung open from the wind, and the rusted hinges shrilly signaled this.

Meg listened for another minute, then, although the anxiety did not subside, she decided that she must sleep. She looked at Chuck - he was lying on his back, his mouth slightly open, a strand of long, unwashed hair falling over his face. Even from her place she could smell him, but what could you do? She probably doesn't smell any better either. Okay, so they get to the sea, take a swim - and the problem will disappear by itself.

She raised her eyes to the ceiling, stretched out her long legs, and ran her hand over her ample breasts, covered with a dirty sweater worn to holes.

She is already accustomed to a life full of hardships, accustomed to being content with little. This had its advantages; at least she is free to go wherever she wants and live as she wants, and for her this is already a lot.

She remembered her father, who worked for a pittance as an insurance agent, and her boring mother. Until she was seventeen, she put up with them, although already at fourteen she decided: she would leave home as soon as she felt the strength to leave. This musty little world of the middle class - she was simply suffocating in it. And when Chuck appeared in her life, she said to herself: it’s time.

Chuck was four years older than her. She then went to the cinema alone - this rarely happened, there were always enough girlfriends. But that evening she wanted to be alone. She told her parents that she was going to the movies with Shirley. Her parents always needed to know who she was going with and where, and she lied to them every time, because she knew: it wouldn’t even occur to them to check - they were simpletons. She lied, even when she went somewhere with Shirley, told them that she was going with Edna. There was a special relish to messing with my parents' brains. Yes, they probably didn’t even hear what she told them. They sit with their eyes glued to the TV, and always have the same parting words: “Happy, honey, go for a walk, but it’s not too late.” She was tempted to say that today she had a date with Frank Sinatra - after all, she wouldn’t even bat an eyelid!

The film turned out to be terribly boring; she didn’t even sit through half of it and left. But on the street I immediately began to reproach myself. It's only nine o'clock yet. Well, I left the cinema, what next? The evening is stuffy, sultry, and there’s no point in wandering the streets. And there was nowhere to go except home... but spending the evening with her parents watching TV - she couldn’t wish that even on her enemy.

– Isn’t it boring to be alone?

Chuck appeared in front of her, stepping out of the shadows. She looked at him appraisingly. She had seen enough men for her age and allowed them a lot, but she did not give up the final frontier - virginity. She liked to squeeze in the car, desperately resist and eventually give up position after position - except for the last bastion. Her mother warned her so many times to stay away from strange men - that this warning stuck in her throat.

Chuck was attractive in his own way. Short, stocky, strongly built. She liked the long reddish hair and beard. The face is independent, carefree, and despite all the irregularities of its features, it is beautiful. There was a masculine quality to him.

They went to the beach and swam naked. Chuck was not at all embarrassed by his nakedness, which killed the last remnants of timidity in Meg - she took off her clothes.

When they reached the sea, he suggested: “Shall we swim?” He immediately stripped naked and, before Meg had time to come to her senses, threw himself into the water. After hesitating for a moment, she followed his example, and then yielded to his persistent caresses.

The first act of love in her life was brilliant. Chuck had many shortcomings, but he knew how to please a woman.

“I like you, Meg,” he said when, having exhausted the fervor of love, they lay resting next to each other. - Do you have money?

It soon became clear that Chuck was truly interested in only two things: money and women. Meg actually had three hundred dollars put aside - gifts from rich relatives, so she saved it over many years - “for a rainy day,” as her mother used to say. The rainy day has not yet arrived, but is it worth waiting for its arrival?

Chuck told her he was going to Florida. Wants to bask in the sun. No, he doesn't do anything special. When the money runs out, he gets a job - whatever comes along; As soon as it delays a little, it immediately lifts the anchor. This lifestyle is just right for him. And for her! But, perhaps, too. Three hundred, Chuck said, would last us forever. Let's go to Florida together?

It was this moment that Meg had been waiting for all last year. Here he is - a man who worries her, and they have similar views on life. Strong, independent, reckless, and just the right lover. There was no need to persuade her.

They agreed to meet the next day at the bus station and rush to Florida together.

The next morning, when her mother went shopping, Meg threw her simple belongings into her backpack, wrote a note that she would not come back, borrowed fifty dollars that her father kept in the house “for a rainy day,” and left her parental home forever.

Three hundred dollars plus fifty of my father's ran out pretty quickly - what an eternity! Among Chuck's other weaknesses was an indomitable passion for gambling. Meg watched with bated breath as Chuck carelessly squandered her money while playing dice with two guys who were stuck to

Maggie woke up unexpectedly, as if something had jolted her, although she had only slept for an hour and a half. She raised her head above the backpack that served her as a pillow and stared at the low, empty ceiling, illuminated by the mysterious moonlight. Directly above her, the girl saw a thick, sagging web, in which a giant spider was waiting for the stupid flies.

“Oh my God, it’s really creepy,” she complained to Chuck two hours earlier, when they had just broken down the door. - The most suitable place for ghosts.

Chuck was not imaginative. He neighed like a stallion.

- That’s wonderful... Let’s keep the ghosts company. Anything is better than being a snack for those damn mosquitoes.

The abandoned house was their first home since leaving Route 4. They ran out of money as soon as they left Goulds, a sad town of the kind that lives by processing lemons and potatoes. Chuck tried to get a job at one of the packaging factories, but he was quickly made aware that he needed to wash his face more than once a week. Maggie remembers the last time it was in Jacksonville. Shoulder-length greasy hair, a scruffy beard and the smell of sweat mixed with urine are not an important recommendation for employers.

The deserted cottage was overgrown with stunted palm trees, wild plums and bushes growing wildly in all directions, the flowers of which exuded a spicy aroma. Once upon a time he knew better times and was a two-story estate from the time of colonial dependence on England. The facade was decorated with half a dozen marble columns, spacious veranda with swing chair, wide glass windows- obviously some rich southerner had lived there before, who wanted to make a solid impression on his neighbors. But everything passes, and now the house stands alone and not a single light shines in it.

– I wonder why there was no buyer for such mansions? – the girl asked her companion when they climbed the steps to the veranda. - And who was the last to own them?

- What do we care? – Chuck said and kicked out the door. The door broke off its hinges and crashed to the ground, throwing up a cloud of ancient dust.

Maggie recoiled involuntarily.

– I don’t want to go inside, I’m afraid!

- Shut up, pussycat. – Chuck was not in the mood to listen to all sorts of nonsense. He wanted to eat, he was tired, he was ready to spend the night even in the middle of nowhere. No matter how Maggie resisted, he pushed her into the dusty darkness.

They didn’t settle down to sleep on the first floor: it was unpleasant that the windows were boarded up. And on the second glass remained intact, although dirty, they let in a pale light, and it was possible to somehow unpack things. A wide marble staircase, that led up, just the ultimate dream! Maggie immediately imagined herself going down the steps, like Scarlett O'Hara from Gone with the Wind, in a chic evening dress with diamonds on her bare neck, and downstairs, in the spacious hall, many fans were enthusiastically waiting for her exit. But she shared her secrets with Chuck Maggie was sure that he would make her laugh. This hippie lived for today and only for him, the future was a complete fog. And now she woke up for an unknown reason. Her back was covered with sticky sweat. stuffy night.

The house lived its own strange life. The wind coming from Biscayne Bay whistled softly under the roof. The scraps of wallpaper whispered something mysterious. The floorboards creaked, and somewhere below, an unlocked door creaked due to gusts of wind.

Maggie listened and listened and understood: if she wanted to calm her nerves, she had to force herself to sleep. But how to do this if Chuck's sickening smell permeated the air of the room? She probably smells like herring herself. Okay, so they get to the sea, take a swim - and the problem will disappear by itself.

She stretched out her legs and ran her hand over her huge tits, hidden under a dirty sweater, with pleasure.

Maggie is accustomed to a life full of hardships, accustomed to being content with what comes into her own hands. This way of existence had its disadvantages and its advantages. In any case, she doesn’t owe anyone anything and lives the way she wants, and this is all that is necessary for a free person.

She remembered her parents. A father who worked all his life in an insurance office, a boring mother who cared for dad all her life. Until the age of seventeen, the daughter put up with this situation, although already as a teenager she decided to leave home as soon as she felt ready to set sail on the stormy waves of the sea of ​​\u200b\u200blife. In the musty atmosphere of the bourgeois world, she was simply suffocating. And when one day Chuck appeared on her way, relaxed and without complexes, the girl realized that the hour had struck.

He was five years older than her. That day Maggie went to the cinema to see some action movie. One. All her friends refused to join her, busy with their girly affairs. She lied to her parents that she was going to the movies with Shirley. It was her job to brainwash the ancestors favorite hobby– she got a thrill from any, even completely harmless, lies to them. Yes, they probably didn’t even hear what she told them. They sit in their arms, with their eyes glued to the TV, and don’t pay attention to everything else: “Okay, baby, go for a walk, just make sure you don’t come back late.” She was tempted to say goodbye that she had a date with Clark Gable, but they would hardly have reacted!

The picture evoked such boredom that Maggie didn’t sit through half of it. Already on the street, doubts began to tear her apart. Where to go, where to go? Her friends are busy, she hasn’t met any boys from school, but she can’t wander around the town restless. The thought that she would have to join her parents in front of the dull flickering television was something she could not imagine even for a second.

- Wait, beauty. Aren't you bored alone?

A guy stood in front of her. Maggie glanced at his figure with an appraising glance. For being seventeen, she had seen a lot of men and allowed them a lot, but she was in no hurry to give up her virginity. She liked to flounder back seat cars, desperately squeal and resist and gradually give up position after position - except for the last bastion. Mother never tired of emphasizing that all sorts of troubles could be expected from strangers. After all, they only need one thing from the girls. And the fools will have to pay for the momentary pleasure.

She liked Chuck right away. He was of medium height, stocky, and his muscles were bursting like a cowgirl. His long red hair and beard gave him a certain charm. The face with its independent expression was attractive in its own way. The masculine principle was clearly visible in him. And Maggie gave up on decency.

To begin with, she agreed to take a bath with him. They went to the sea, and Chuck struck her imagination by the fact that he was not at all embarrassed by his nudity, which killed the last remnants of timidity in the girl - she took off her dress.

After hesitating for a moment, she followed him into the oncoming surf, and where life on the planet once originated, she gave in to his persistent caresses.

The first sexual intercourse in her life gave her incomparable pleasure. Chuck was full of shortcomings, but he could satisfy a woman like no one else.

“You're a good girl, Maggie,” he said, his fingertips lazily tracing her breasts as they rested after puffing on the sand. - Do you have money?

Very quickly, Maggie realized that Chuck was only interested in money and women. She had three hundred dollars in her stash from her parents, saved up over many years. But she was in no hurry to admit it.

“I want to go to Florida,” Chuck said dreamily, “it wouldn’t hurt to warm up my bones in the sun.” I don’t have a specific occupation. When I run out of money, I get a job, whatever comes along. As soon as I save a little, I immediately weigh anchor. My nature is like that, gypsy. And how are you?

- I? To be honest, all my life I dreamed of meeting such a gorgeous guy. And leave this remote town with him.

“Unfortunately,” Chuck immediately became sad, “I can’t take you with me.” I am out of cash. Eh, if I had a couple hundred, I would show you the sky in diamonds!