Веснушки
Chapter VIII
HeglancedattheAngel.NOWwouldshesee?
“Onmysoul!”hemutteredunderhisbreath.“Theydon’taventouchher!”
Shelaiddownhersunshadeandgloves.Shewalkedtotheendofthecounterandturnedthefullbatteryofhereyesontheattendant.
“Please,”shesaid.
Thewhite-apronedindividualsteppedbackandgavedelightedassent.TheAngelsteppedbesidehim,andselectingatall,flaringglass,ofalmostpaperthinness,shestoopedandrolleditinatrayofcrackedice.
“Iwanttomixadrinkformyfriend,”shesaid.“Hehasalong,hotridebeforehim,andIdon’twanthimstartedoffwithoneofthoseoldpalate-teasingsweetnessesthatyoumixjustonpurposetodriveamanbackintenminutes.”Therewasanappreciativelaughfromthelineatthecounter.
“Iwantaclear,cool,sparklingdrinkthathasatangofacidinit.Where’sthecherryphosphate?That,notatallsweet,wouldbegood;don’tyouthink?”
Theattendantdidthink.Hepointedoutthedifferenttaps,andtheAngelcompoundedthedrink,whileFreckles,standingsoerecthealmostleanedbackward,gazedatherandpaidnoattentiontoanyoneelse.Whenshehadtheglassbrimming,shetiltedalittleofitscontentsintoasecondglassandtastedit.
“That’sentirelytoosweetforathirstyman,”shesaid.
Shepouredouthalfthemixture,andrefillingtheglass,tasteditasecondtime.Shesubmittedthatresulttotheattendant.“Isn’tthataboutthething?”sheasked.
Herepliedenthusiastically.“I’dgetmywagesraisedtenamonthifIcouldlearnthattrick.
