Читать книгу Crocodile Tears онлайн

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“You ain’t gonna look so big when you got cum all over your face. I don’t want your ass,” he says loudly, spitting in Diego’s ear. “You fuckin faggot. Don’t mess with me. Ain’t nothin to stop me draggin you into an empty cubicle right now.”

The hand that holds the cigarette makes an obscene gesture then returns the cigarette to the mouth. He snorts, his breathing agitated. Diego tries to calm him down.

“Cool it, Hobo.”

“You set me off, asshole.”

“What can I do? Just tell me what to do.”

The Hobo is trembling like a rabid dog about to attack, his eyes glare red as if in a bad photo, seeking out Diego’s own evasive gaze. His tongue is like a caged animal hurling itself against his teeth.

Suddenly he smiles and his face changes, he gently takes Diego by the arm. Hit by a wave of anxiety, Diego’s vision begins to mist over.

“Was that lawyer I gave you any good?”

27Diego struggles to draw air into his lungs. “Yes, yes.”

“Tell me.”

“We’ve already spoken a couple of times and —”

“Antinucci’s the best. You gettin out soon, ain’t you?”