F Paul Wilson Repairman Jack 01 Legacies

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If only it were that simple.
"You mean, get married?"
"Yes, I mean get married. Is that so awful?"
"Not the ceremony. And certainly not the commitment. But going to a municipal
building and registering my name somewhere& " He faked a minor seizure.
"Aaaaargh!"
"You'll use one of your fake identities we'll pick one with a name that
sounds nice following Gia and Vicky and that'll be it. Easy."
"Couldn't we just live together?" Jack said, though he already knew the
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answer. But at least they were off the subject of his work.
"Sure. Soon as Vicky's grown up and moved out and married and on her own.
Until then, Vicky's mom doesn't shack up with anyone not even that man Jack
who Vicky and her mom love so much."
Gia had been a Manhattanite and an artist for many years now, and seemed
every bit as urbane as the next, but every so often the Iowa farm girl
nestling deep within her surfaced to call the shots.
Which was okay with Jack. That Iowa farm girl was part of her appeal, part of
what made her Gia.
But marriage wasn't the problem. Repairman Jack was the real barrier to going
public with the relationship. For as soon as Jack moved in with Gia and
Vicky or vice versa he became vulnerable. He tended to make enemies in his
line of work. He tried to keep his face out of his fixes, but a certain amount
of exposure was unavoidable. A fair number of people with a grudge knew what
he looked like. Every so often one of them found out where he lived. What
followed was usually unpleasant. But because Jack lived alone, because he was
very circumspect about appearing in public with anyone he cared about, the
grudge guys had to deal directly with him. Fine. He could handle that. And he
did. Most of them were never seen again.
But if Gia and Vicky were linked to him, they'd become targets.
And Jack had no idea how he'd handle that.
If one of them ever suffered because of him&
"Okay," he said. "I retire and we get married. Then what?"
"Life."
"Easy for you to say. You go on designing book covers and doing your
paintings, but what about me? What do I do in the straight world? I don't know
anything else."
Gia rose up on one elbow and gave him one of her intent looks.
"That's because you've never tried anything else. Jack, you're a bright,
inventive, intelligent man with an agile body. You can do anything you want."
But I want to do what I'm doing now, he thought.
"But what about the toy theft?" he said. "If I were retired and we were
married, what would you have done?" He poked her playfully. "Huh? Huh? What
would you have done?"
"I'd have asked you to go get them back."
He stared at her. Not a hint of guile, no sign that she was joking. She meant
it.
"Am I the only one in this room who detects just a tiny bit of inconsistency
here?"
"Nope," she said. "I'm a hypocrite and I freely admit it. The only time I
want you to be Repairman Jack is for me."
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Jack was speechless. What did he say to that?
During the silence, a low, guttural laugh filtered in from the front room.
Jack felt the gooseflesh rise on Gia's arm.
"My, God, Jack. Did you hear that?"
"Just the TV. That's our old friend Dwight."
Draculawas running in the ongoing Dwight Frye Festival. Jack could picture
the scene playing now, one of his all-time favorites: The ship transporting
the count to England has washed ashore, and the only man alive is Renfield,
looking up from the bottom of the hold, his eyes alive with madness, his
insane laugh echoing through the ship.
"It's creepy."
"You got that right. Ol' Dwight did such a great job as Renfield that he was
typecast for the rest of his career. Whenever they needed a character whose
belt didn't go through all the loops they called Dwight Frye."
Gia glanced at the clock. "God, look at the time. I want to get some
Christmas shopping in before we have to pick up Vicky."
"I don't think we have time to go to Westchester," he said.
"Very true. So we're going to FAO Schwartz."
Jack groaned. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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