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Blood Games. Faye Kellerman
Читать онлайн.Название Blood Games
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9780007424504
Автор произведения Faye Kellerman
Издательство HarperCollins
“Hey, don’t fret.” He gently nudged her arm. “You’ll have plenty of time to hear concerts when you get to college. Besides, it’s probably better not to sneak around your parents.”
She didn’t answer. Then she said, “What is the pianist playing?”
“It’s all Saint-Saëns. I think the orchestra’s doing some golden oldies like ‘Danse Macabre’ and ‘Bacchanale.’” He thought a moment. “When I was a little kid, I saw Samson and Delilah. My father took me. I inherited my ear from him. Anyway, it wasn’t like a Met opera, it was one of these experimental things that the New York avant-garde just love to do. So when the company did the ‘Bacchanale,’ they started stripping until they were nude and started simulating you know what.” He grinned. “Man, I don’t think I heard a note of music.”
She giggled. “How old were you?”
“Around nine.”
“What did your father do?”
“I dunno. I was too embarrassed to look at him.”
She giggled again. “So you got your talent from your dad?”
“Yeah, only I’m better than he is and we both know it. It’s funny. My father is an absolute tyrant. I’ve never, ever talked back to him except in music. It’s the one area where I can tell my dad that he’s full of shit in that language and he’ll just laugh or agree with me. It’s weird.”
“You’re probably living his dream.”
“Nah, my father likes what he does just fine.”
“What does he do?”
It took a few moments for him to speak. “He owns brothels.” Yasmine’s face was blank. Gabe said, “Brothels. You know. Whorehouses.”
“Whorehouses?”
“You don’t know what a whorehouse is?”
Her complexion darkened. “I know what a whore is. I didn’t know there was a special house for them.”
Gabe said, “Eat your Balance Bar.”
She took another bite. “Like how does that work? Do all the whores just decide to live together?”
“Change the subject.”
“No, I’m curious.”
“A brothel is a place where whores work.” A pause. “So instead of having to go out on the street and hustle for guys, they just stay in one place and the guys come to them.”
“To have sex?”
“That’s the idea.”
“So your dad owns like a big motel or something?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Wow.” Her eyes got big. “Is that even legal?”
“In certain parts of Nevada, it is.”
“And the whores pay him rent?”
“It’s a little more complicated than that.” He tapped his toe. “Yasmine, you can ask me any question you want, but I’d appreciate if you kept this between us. It’s a little embarrassing.”
She shrugged. “My dad owns all sorts of properties. I’m sure he rents to some unsavory characters.”
Gabe laughed. “Okay.”
“But I don’t think he owns any whorehouses.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t. Don’t ask him about it.”
“No, that wouldn’t be a good idea.”
“It would be a very bad idea.” He pointed to the rest of the Balance Bar. “Eat.”
Yasmine took a small bite. “So what’s the piano music?”
“Piano music?”
“For the concert on Saturday.”
“Oh yeah.” The conversation was meandering all over the place. “Paul’s playing a piano concerto called ‘Africa Fantasie.’ It’s not particularly hard but I happen to like it a lot. And I like to show support.”
“I’ve never heard it.”
“It’s a good one. Several versions are on YouTube.”
“So … like what time are you going?”
Gabe regarded her. “The bus leaves at one. That puts you into SC at around two-fifteen, two-thirty.”
She nodded. “How much are the tickets?”
“Not much. Like fifteen, twenty bucks. I’ll buy you one. If you show up, fine. If you don’t, that’s fine, too. No pressure. But if you do want to come, you can’t be late. I’m not waiting around.”
“Understood.” She sat back and closed her eyes. “This day was magical … just magical.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Gabe said. “You should probably buy your friend something for covering for you.”
“Ariella?” Yasmine smiled. “I’ve covered for her like a zillion times. This doesn’t even make a dent in the list. Now that girl is a real sneak.”
“So you’re the good girl?”
She shrugged.
“Nothing to be ashamed of,” Gabe said. “You’ll do fine.”
“I’m sure somewhere out there is a perfect twenty-four-year-old Persian Jew just waiting until I grow up.” She looked at him. “Persian girls tend to marry older guys. I mean, not always, but that’s the tradition. My oldest sister is engaged to a thirty-one-year-old. She’s twenty-three.”
Gabe nodded. “Interesting.”
They rode the remaining time in silence, Yasmine nodding off until she slumped to the side and slept with her head on his shoulder. Her face was turned upward, her full lips slighted parted. He could feel her breath warm against his neck. Her hair tickled his face.
He was tired as well, but he couldn’t tear himself away from watching her sleep.
A real cutie. Too bad.
A few minutes before their bus stop, he gently shook her awake. She inhaled a deep breath and let it out, sat up, and rubbed her eyes. “I fell asleep?”
“It happens.” He got up and pulled the string. A moment later, the bus lurched to a stop. “Let’s go.”
It was a moonless night—cold and dark.
“I owe you money for the cab.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“I insist.”
“I won’t take it. C’mon. I’ll walk you home … or a few houses away from home, I guess.”
“I’m supposed to be at Ariella’s.”
“Where does she live?”
“Just right around the corner, so I’m fine.”
“I’ll walk you to the house. She’s covering for you anyway, so she must know about me, right?”
“Sort of.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“More like mysterious.” Yasmine started walking … very slowly. She didn’t want the night to end. “Thanks again.”
“You’re welcome.”
They strolled for a few moments in silence, the only sound made by her clacking heels.
“No,