sk.thetalisman-第17部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　seen　violence　begin　to　darken　in　the　hillbilly's　green　eyes；　and　a　sudden　upsurge　of　joy　had　made　him　waddle　in　toward　the　man；　still　cutting　off　skin；　almost　hoping　that　the　attendant　would　take　a　poke　at　him。　Abruptly；　the　hillbilly　had　lost　his　momentum；　feebly；　indeed　apologetically　suggested　that　maybe　that…there　l'il　nuthin　of　a　ding　came　from　somewhere　else？　Parking　service　at　a　restaurant；　maybe？　The　way　those　bozos　treat　cars；　y'know；　and　the　light　ain't　so　good　that　time　a　night；　why　。　。　。
　　'Shut　your　stinking　mouth；'　Sloat　had　said。　'That　little　nothing；　as　you　call　it；　is　going　to　cost　me　about　twice　what　you　make　in　a　week。　I　should　fire　you　right　now；　cowpoke；　and　the　only　reason　I'm　not　going　to　is　that　there's　about　a　two　percent　chance　you　might　be　right；　when　I　came　out　of　Chasen's　last　night　maybe　I　didn't　look　under　the　door　handle；　maybe　I　DID　and　maybe　I　DIDN'T；　but　if　you　ever　talk　to　me　again；　if　you　ever　say　any　more　than　'Hello；　Mr。　Sloat'　or　'Goodbye；　Mr。　Sloat；'　I'll　get　you　fired　so　fast　you'll　think　you　were　beheaded。'　So　the　hillbilly　watched　him　inspect　his　car；　knowing　that　if　Sloat　found　any　imperfections　in　the　car's　finish　he　would　bring　down　the　axe；　afraid　even　to　e　close　enough　to　utter　the　ritual　goodbye。　Sometimes　from　the　window　that　overlooked　the　parking　lot　Sloat　had　seen　the　attendant　furiously　wiping　some　flaw；　bird　dropping　or　splash　of　mud；　off　the　BMW's　hood。　And　that's　management；　buddy。
　　When　he　pulled　out　of　the　lot　he　checked　the　rear…view　mirror　and　saw　on　the　hillbilly's　face　an　expression　very　like　the　last　one　Phil　Sawyer　had　worn　in　the　final　seconds　of　his　life；　out　in　the　middle　of　nowhere　in　Utah。　He　smiled　all　the　way　to　the　freeway　on…ramp。
　　
　　Philip　Sawyer　had　underestimated　Morgan　Sloat　from　the　time　of　their　first　meeting；　when　they　were　freshmen　at　Yale。　It　could　have　been；　Sloat　reflected；　that　he　had　been　easy　to　underestimate…a　pudgy　eighteen…year…old　from　Akron；　graceless；　overweighted　with　anxieties　and　ambitions；　out　of　Ohio　for　the　first　time　in　his　life。　Listening　to　his　classmates　talk　easily　about　New　York；　about　'21'　and　the　Stork　Club；　about　seeing　Brubeck　at　Basin　Street　and　Erroll　Garner　at　the　Vanguard；　he'd　sweated　to　hide　his　ignorance。　'I　really　like　the　downtown　part；'　he'd　thrown　in；　as　casually　as　he　could。　Palms　wet；　cramped　by　curled…in　fingers。　（Mornings；　Sloat　often　found　his　palms　tattooed　with　dented　bruises　left　by　his　fingernails。）　'What　downtown　part；　Morgan？'　Tom　Woodbine　had　asked　him。　The　others　cackled。　'You　know；　Broadway　and　the　Village。　Around　there。'　More　cackles；　harsher。　He　had　been　unattractive　and　badly　dressed；　his　wardrobe　consisted　of　two　suits；　both　charcoal…gray　and　both　apparently　made　for　a　man　with　a　scarecrow's　shoulders。　He　had　begun　losing　his　hair　in　high　school；　and　pink　scalp　showed　through　his　short；　flattened…down　haircuts。
　　No；　no　beauty　had　Sloat　been；　and　that　had　been　part　of　it。　The　others　made　him　feel　like　a　clenched　fist：　those　morning　bruises　were　shadowy　little　photographs　of　his　soul。　The　others；　all　interested　in　the　theater　like　himself　and　Sawyer；　possessed　good　profiles；　flat　stomachs；　easy　careless　manners。　Sprawled　across　the　lounge　chairs　of　their　suite　in　Davenport　while　Sloat；　in　a　haze　of　perspiration；　stood　that　he　might　not　wrinkle　his　suit　pants　and　thereby　get　a　few　more　days'　wear　out　of　them；　they　sometimes　resembled　a　gathering　of　young　gods…cashmere　sweaters　draped　over　their　shoulders　like　the　golden　fleece。　They　were　on　their　way　to　being　actors；　playwrights；　songwriters。　Sloat　had　seen　himself　as　a　director：　entangling　them　all　in　a　net　of　plications　and　designs　which　only　he　could　unwind。
　　Sawyer　and　Tom　Woodbine；　both　of　whom　seemed　unimaginably　rich　to　Sloat；　were　roommates。　Woodbine　had　only　a　lukewarm　interest　in　theater　and　hung　around　their　undergraduate　drama　workshop　because　Phil　did。　Another　gilded　private…school　boy；　Thomas　Woodbine　differed　from　the　others　because　of　his　absolute　seriousness　and　straightforwardness。　He　intended　to　bee　a　lawyer；　and　already　seemed　to　have　the　probity　and　impartiality　of　a　judge。　（In　fact；　most　of　Woodbine's　acquaintances　imagined　that　he　would　wind　up　on　the　Supreme　Court；　much　to　the　embarrassment　of　the　boy　himself。）　Woodbine　was　without　ambition　in　Sloat's　terms；　being　interested　far　more　in　living　rightly　than　in　living　well。　Of　course　he　had　everything；　and　what　he　by　some　accident　lacked　other　people　were　quick　to　give　him：　how　could　he；　so　spoiled　by　nature　and　friendships；　be　ambitious？　Sloat　almost　unconsciously　detested　Woodbine；　and　could　not　bring　himself　to　call　him　'Tommy。'　
　　Sloat　directed　two　plays　during　his　four　years　at　Yale：　No　Exit；　which　the　student　paper　called　'a　furious　confusion；'　and　Volpone。　This　was　described　as　'churning；　cynical；　sinister；　and　almost　unbelievably　messy。'　Sloat　was　held　responsible　for　most　of　these　qualities。　Perhaps　he　was　not　a　director　after　all…his　vision　too　intense　and　crowded。　His　ambitions　did　not　lessen；　they　merely　shifted。　If　he　was　not　eventually　to　be　behind　the　camera；　he　could　be　behind　the　people　in　front　of　it。　Phil　Sawyer　had　also　begun　to　think　this　way…Phil　had　never　been　certain　where　his　love　of　theater　might　take　him；　and　thought　he　might　have　a　talent　for　representing　actors　and　writers。　'Let's　go　to　Los　Angeles　and　start　an　agency；'　Phil　said　to　him　in　their　senior　year。　'It's　nutty　as　hell　and　our　parents　will　hate　it；　but　maybe　we'll　make　it　work。　So　we　starve　for　a　couple　of　years。'　
　　Phil　Sawyer；　Sloat　had　learned　since　their　freshman　year；　was　not　rich　after　all。　He　just　looked　rich。
　　'And　when　we　can　afford　him；　we'll　get　Tommy　to　be　our　lawyer。　He'll　be　out　of　law　school　by　then。'
　　'Sure；　okay；'　Sloat　had　said；　thinking　that　he　could　stop　that　one　when　the　time　came。　'What　should　we　call　ourselves？'
　　'Anything　you　like。　Sloat　and　Sawyer？　Or　should　we　stick　to　the　alphabet？'
　　'Sawyer　and　Sloat；　sure；　that's　great；　alphabetical　order；'　Sloat　said；　seething　because　he　imagined　that　his　partner　had　euchred　him　into　forever　suggesting　that　he　was　somehow　secondary　to　Sawyer。
　　Both　sets　of　parents　did　hate　the　idea；　as　Phil　had　predicted；　but　the　partners　in　the　infant　talent　agency　drove　to　Los　Angeles　in　the　old　DeSoto　（Morgan's；　another　demonstration　of　how　much　Sawyer　owed　him）；　set　up　an　office　in　a　North　Hollywood　building　with　a　happy　population　of　rats　and　fleas；　and　started　hanging　around　the　clubs；　passing　out　their　spandy…new　business　cards。　Nothing…nearly　four　months　of　total　failure。　They　had　a　ic　who　got　too　drunk　to　be　funny；　a　writer　who　couldn't　write；　a　stripper　who　insisted　on　being　paid　in　cash　so　that　she　could　stiff　her　agents。　And　then　late　one　afternoon；　high　on　marijuana　and　whiskey；　Phil　Sawyer　had　gigglingly　told　Sloat　about　the　Territories。
　　'You　know　what　I　can　do；　you　ambitious　so…and…so？　Oh；　can　I　travel；　partner。　All　the　way。'
　　Shortly　after　that；　both　of　them　travelling　now；　Phil　Sawyer　met　a　rising　young　actress　at　a　studio　party　and　within　an　hour　had　their　first　important　client。　And　she　had　three　friends　similarly　unhappy　with　their　agents。　And　one　of　the　friends　had　a　boyfriend　who　had　actually　written　a　decent　filmscript　and　needed　an　agent；　and　the　boyfriend　had　a　boyfriend　。　。　。　Before　their　third　year　was　over；　they　had　a　new　office；　new　apartments；　a　slice　of　the　Hollywood　pie。　The　Territories；　in　a　fashion　that　Sloat　accepted　but　never　understood；　had　blessed　them。
　　Sawyer　dealt　with　the　clients；　Sloat　with　the　money；　the　investments；　the　business　side　of　the　agency。　Sawyer　spent　money…lunches；　airplane　tickets…Sloat　saved　it；　which　was　all　the　justification　he　needed　to　skim　a　little　of　the　cream　off　the　top。　And　it　was　Sloat　who　kept　pushing　them　into　new　areas；　land　development；　real　estate；　production　deals。　By　the　time　Tommy　Woodbine　arrived　in　Los　Angeles；　Sawyer　&　Sloat　was　a　multimillion…dollar　business。
　　Sloat　discovered　that　he　still　detested　his　old　classmate；　Tommy　Woodbine　had　put　on　thirty　pounds；　and　looked　and　acted；　in　his　blue　three…piece　suits；　more　than　ever　like　a　judge。　His　cheeks　were　always　slightly　flushed　（alcoholic？　Sloat　wondered）；　his　manner　still　kindly　and　ponderous。　The　world　had　left　its　marks　on　him…clever　little　wrinkles　at　the　corners　of　his　eyes；　the　eyes　themselves　infinitely　more　guarded　than　those　of　the　gilded　boy　at　Yale。　Sloat　understood　almost　at　once；　and　knew　that　Phil　Sawyer　would　never　see　it　unless　he　were　told；　that　Tommy　Woodbine　lived　with　an　enormous　secret：　whatever　the　gilded　boy　might　have　been；　Tommy　was　now　a　homosexual。　Probably　he'd　call　himself　gay。　And　that　made　everything　easier…in　the　end；　it　even　made　it　easier　to　get　rid　of　Tommy。
　　Because　queers　are　always　getting　killed；　aren't　they？　And　did　anybody　really　want　a　two…hundred…and…ten…pound　pansy　responsible　for　bringing　up　a　teenage　boy？　You　could　say　that　Sloat　was　just　saving　Phil　Sawyer　from　the　posthumous　consequences　of　a　serious　lapse　of　judgment。　If　Sawyer　had　made　Sloat　the　executor　of　his　estate　and　the　guardian　of　his　son；　there　would　have　been　no　problems。　As　it　was；　the　murderers　from　the　Territories…the　same　two　who　had　bungled　the　abduction　of　the　boy…had　blasted　through　a　stoplight　and　nearly　been　arrested　before　they　could　return　home。
　　Things　all　would　have　been　so　much　simpler；　Sloat　reflected　for　perhaps　the　thousandth　time；　if　Phil　Sawyer　had　never　married。　If　no　Lily；　no　Jack；　if　no　Jack；　no　problems。　Phil　may　never　even　have　looked　at　the　reports　about　Lily　Cavanaugh's　early　life　Sloat　had　piled：　they　listed　where　and　how　often　and　with　whom；　and　should　have　killed　that　romance　as　readily　as　the　black　van　turned　Tommy　Woodbine　into　a　lump　on　the　road。　If　Sawyer　read　those　meticulous　reports；　they　left　him　amazingly　unaffected。　He　wanted　to　marry　Lily　Cavanaugh；　and　he　did。　As　his　damned　Twinner　had　married　Queen　Laura。　More　underestimation。　And　repaid　in　the　same　fashion；　which　seemed　fitting。
　　Which　meant；　Sloat　thought　with　some　satisfaction；　that　after　a　few　details　were　taken　care　of；　everything　would　finally　be　settled。　After　so　many　years…when　he　came　back　from　Arcadia　Beach；　he　should　have　all　of　Sawyer