ch.nakedcamethemanatee-第14部分

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y　boys；　Hasids　in　fur　hats　and　black　coats；　Miami　gangbangers；　pimps；　whores；　celebutantes；　dominatrices。　The　parade　was　framed　by　blowing　coconut　palms；　warm　white　sand；　sparkling　sea。　Windsurfers；　Hobies；　Cigarettes；　yachts；　cruise　ships；　and　sun…bleached　surfers　skimmed　by　on　the　ocean。　Pelicans；　Frisbees；　wild　parrots；　seagulls；　blimps；　kites；　and　airplanes　pulling　advertisements　flew　by　in　the　sky。
　As　the　remnants　of　last　night's　Special　K　drug　dripped　from　his　brain；　Dash　swallowed　down　big　spoonfuls　of　Special　K　cereal。　He　licked　his　lips；　could　not　keep　his　eyes　from　the　bouncing　breasts。　His　panion　inhaled　his　coffee　and　cigarettes；　stared　transfixed　at　the　bulging　men's　baskets。　Britt　walked　up　to　their　table；　Dash　jumped　up；　kissed　her　on　both　cheeks；　and　pulled　a　chair　for　her。
　〃This；〃　Dash　said；　introducing　her　to　Ziff　Bodine；　〃is　the　best　special…effects　man　in　the　business。〃
　Ziff；　Britt　noted；　either　was　wearing　black　nail　polish　or　had　recently　slammed　both　hands　in　a　car　door。
　〃The　most　valuable　prop　for　his　film　is　missing；　stolen；〃　Ziff　blurted。　〃It　would　take　me　weeks　to　reproduce；〃　he　whined。　〃If　we're　going　to　stay　on　schedule…〃
　〃What　is　it？〃
　〃Fidel　Castro；　his　head　actually。〃
　Britt　spit　up　her　coffee　and　stared　at　the　man。
　〃Is　it　。。。　very　lifelike？〃
　Ziff　leaned　back　in　his　chair；　mouth　open　in　surprise。　Then　he　smirked。
　〃Lifelike？〃　His　eyes　shifted　to　Dash。　〃She　wants　to　know　if　it's　lifelike。〃　He　leaned　forward。　〃Did　you　see　Alien　Autopsy？　That　was　my　work。　I　did　that。〃
　〃It　better　be　lifelike；〃　Dash　sneered。　〃It　cost　enough。〃
　Somehow　these　clowns　had　gotten　wind　of　her　situation；　Britt　thought。　Had　to　be　some　elaborate　joke。　But　Dash　leaned　across　the　table；　his　big　hand　on　her　slender　arm。　The　man　gave　her　the　creeps。　She'd　always　hated　to　watch　him　on　the　screen　and　he　wasn't　revising　her　thinking　much　in　the　flesh。
　〃I　had　a　call　on　my　answering　machine　this　morning。　A　woman's　voice。　She　said　if　I　'wanted　my　head'　I　better　show　at　Paulo　Muschino's　house　tonight　for　dinner。　I　want　you　to　go　there　with　me。〃
　Britt　wasn't　sure　she　believed　Dash　had　really　gotten　any　message　like　that；　and　even　if　he　had；　it　might　be　some　kind　of　lame　publicity　stunt。　And　the　last　place　she　wanted　to　be　was　at　some　trendoid　South　Beach　party　on　Dash's　arm。　But　at　this　point；　mention　the　word　〃head〃　and　Britt　was　there。
　〃I'll　e；　Dash；〃　Britt　said。　〃But　this　better　not　be　some　sicko　e…on。〃
　
　As　the　limo　cruised　through　the　South　Beach　evening；　Britt　thought　how　much　she　hated　it；　drecko　sandbar　turned　vulgar　freak　show；　excreter　of　endless　hype；　festering　petri　dish　of　sexual　disease　and　perversion；　a　sure　sign　of　the　apocalypse。　〃What　do　you　think；〃　Britt　said　snarkily；　〃they're　going　to　serve　the　head　as　a　main　course？〃
　Dash　ignored　her。　〃Isn't　South　Beach　the　coolest？〃　Dash　said；　as　the　limo　pulled　onto　Ocean；　a　honky…tonk　on　XTC；　and　stopped　at　Maison　Marzipan。
　〃Isn't　Muschino　the　coolest？〃　Dash　said；　as　they　walked　into　the　fake　Italian　palazzo　owned　by　the　real　Italian。　Britt　remembered　when　it　had　been　a　low…rent　apartment　building　filled　with　friends　of　hers；　struggling　writers　and　artists。
　〃His　clothes　are　the　coolest；〃　Britt　said　sarcastically；　thinking　they　only　looked　good　on　call　boys。
　A　butler；　naked　except　for　white　gloves　and　a　Muschino　scarf　wrapped　around　his　waist；　led　them　through　rooms　that　looked　like　a　vulgar　Hollywood　version　of　Pompeii。　They　passed　through　a　walkway　filled　with　fake　Greek　urns；　into　the　dining　room　filled　with　fake　Chinese　silks。　Everyone　stopped　talking；　looked　up。　Paulo　air…kissed　Dash　on　both　cheeks；　ignored　Britt。　〃You're　here　just　in　time　for　dessert；〃　Paulo　said；　sitting　Dash　next　to　him；　motioning　at　Britt　with　a　flick　of　his　hand。　She　was　seated　at　the　other　end　in　table　Siberia；　between　a　sexless；　no…talent　writer　and　that　lesbian　fox　Antonia　Cesare。　Next　to　Antonia　was　Madonna；　who　was　in　a　liplock　with　that　vapid　bitters　heir　Chris　Angostura。
　Paulo　was　talking　to　Claudia　Schiffer。　〃I　don't　understand；〃　he　said；　waving　his　wineglass　dismissively。　〃What　it　is　you　date？　A　magician？　What　he　do？　Pull　rabbits　out　of　hat？〃
　〃So　what　was　for　dinner？〃　Britt　asked；　picking　up　the　engraved　menu。　〃　'Boiled　loggerhead　turtle　eggs；'　〃　she　read　aloud。　〃　'Florida　panther　steaks　with　bearnaise。　Manatee　mousse。'　〃
　〃It　was　a　Florida　theme　dinner　in　honor　of　Marion　McAlister　Williams；〃　Madonna　said。　〃She　just　died；　or　something。〃
　A　gong　rang　and　Paulo　stood　up。　〃Now　for　dessert；　the　most　endangered　species　of　all；　the　South　Beach　virgin。〃　A　flawless　naked　black　girl；　covered　in　melted　white　chocolate　and　surrounded　by　fresh　fruit；　was　rolled　out　on　a　silver　tray　at　one　end　of　the　table；　while　at　the　same　time　a　flawless　naked　white　boy　covered　in　dark　chocolate　and　surrounded　with　fruit　was　pushed　out　at　the　other　end。　Dash　picked　up　a　peeled　banana　from　next　to　the　girl；　giggled；　and　asked；　〃Where　should　I　dip　it？〃
　The　white…chocolate　confection　opened　her　mouth；　the　icing　cracking　as　she　said；　〃If　you　want　head；　go　to　Hell。〃
　
　Thousands　of　people　holding　VIP　invitations　to　the　grand　opening　of　a　new　nightclub　named　Hell　were　frenzied；　screaming；　begging；　crying；　rushing　the　velvet　ropes。　Hundreds　of　oversteroided　bouncers　held　them　back。　Dash　and　Britt　got　out　of　the　limo　to　the　cry　of　〃Dash！　Dash！〃　Cameras　flashed。　The　crowd　parted；　like　the　Red　Sea　for　Moses。　The　velvet　ropes　lowered　and　they　walked　up　the　red　carpet　into　Hell。
　Britt　felt　the　darkness　devour；　the　heat　hit；　the　beat　throb。　Fog　filled　the　room。　Red　and　blue　spotlights　spun　and　twisted　as　green　lasers　pierced　and　wiggled　the　darkness；　then　turned　into　wheels　and　spun。　Dash　led　her　through　the　sea　of　flesh；　torsos　and　trunks；　heads　and　tails；　which　rose　in　tiers　from　the　dance　floor。　Everyone　was　in　a　different　stage　of　undress；　showing　off　tattoos　and　body　piercing。　Some　were　pletely　naked。　Every　variety　and　possible　bination　of　sex　was　taking　place。　A　woman　wearing　an　Astroturf　dress　grabbed　on　to　a　speaker　as　she　was　mounted　from　behind　by　a　man　covered　from　head　to　toe　in　leather。
　Britt　felt　faint；　like　she　was　swimming。　Then　she　looked　down　and　saw　sharks；　big　ones；　gliding　in　a　floodlit　subterranean　aquarium　under　the　glass　dance　floor　beneath　her　feet。　Just　then　a　woman　pushed　up　to　them；　held　open　her　coat；　a　walking　drugstore；　and　asked　if　they　wanted　speed；　XTC；　LSD；　GHB；　smack；　crystal　mesh；　poppers；　barbs；　coke；　rock；　Chat；　'shrooms；　peyote；　opium。
　〃You　got　any　sugarless　gum？〃　Britt　asked。
　Outside　the　ropes　the　crowd　was　getting　more　and　more　unruly；　as　Juan　Carlos　Reyes　arrived　with　two　dozen　members　of　the　First　of　April　anti…Castro　paramilitary　group；　tipped　off　by　an　anonymous　phone　call　that　an　extremely　high　official　of　the　Cuban　government　was　going　to　be　at　the　opening。
　Inside；　the　main　stage　of　Hell　was　flooded　with　light。　Shelley　Novak　led　a　chorus　line　of　drag　queens。　In　her　hands　she　held　a　silver　platter；　sauteed　in　blood；　topped　with　an　extremely　lifelike　head　of　Fidel　Castro。
　〃There's　my　damn　prop！〃　Dash　said；　pointing　to　the　head；　pulling　Britt　in　his　direction。　As　they　lurched　forward　in　the　throng；　machines　started　pumping　foam　all　over　the　club　as　the　revelers　cried　out　in　unison。
　The　din　was　so　great　nobody　even　heard　the　motion　at　the　door　when　the　bouncers　refused　to　let　Juan　Carlos　and　his　men　in。　At　Reyes's　signal；　they　butted　the　bouncers　with　their　guns　and　stormed　in。　The　crowd　of　thousands　still　waiting　outside　the　velvet　ropes　saw　their　opportunity　and　rushed　behind　them；　screaming；　into　the　club；　into　the　darkness；　the　heat；　the　smoke；　the　foam；　onto　the　dance　floor　all　at　once。　Onstage；　a　conga　line　of　fifty　Castros　in　tutus　kicked　in　unison。　Juan　and　his　men　stood　there　pointing　their　guns；　not　knowing　which　one　to　shoot；　as　a　thirty…foot…high　red　devil's　head　was　lowered　from　the　ceiling。　Its　mouth　opened　wide　and　a　deep　bass　voice　said；　〃Wele　to　South　Beach。　Wele　to　Hell。〃　As　if　on　cue；　the　glass　dance　floor　splintered；　then　gave　way；　and　squirming　partygoers　tumbled　into　the　shark…filled　pool。
　
　The　Miami　morning　sun　shone　brightly；　cheerfully；　mocking　Fay's　sadness。　She　wished　for　some　gray；　some　overcast。　Remnants　of　last　night's　sleeping　pills　scuba…dived　in　her　brain　as　she　checked　the　black；　late…model　Acura　following　her　in　the　rearview　mirror。　She'd　easily　shaken　the　other　two　cars　that　were　following　her；　but　this　bastard　seemed　stuck　to　her。　So　much　to　do；　so　little　energy；　she　thought。　Planning　her　Granny's　funeral　in　her　head；　worrying　about　Phil。　And　these　damn　reporters；　worse　than　no…see…ums。
　She　headed　on　395　east　toward　Biscayne　Bay；　driving　fast；　faster；　watching　the　speedometer；　seventy；　eighty；　ninety。　She　hit　a　bump；　her　truck　bounced；　the　scuba　tanks　in　the　back　banging　against　each　other；　metal　scraping　metal。　She　knew　she　should　have　unloaded　them。
　The　Acura　followed　her　as　she　screeched　down　the　expressway　ramp。　This　asshole　wasn't　just　another　reporter；　she　thought；　or　he　would　have　given　up　by　now。　She　headed　up　Biscayne　Boulevard；　the　truck　trembling　as　she　swerved　onto　the　Venetian　Causeway。
　Fay　saw　the　lights　of　the　bridge　gate；　and　then　heard　the　bells　of　the　bridge　start　to　ring；　the　signal　almost　drowned　out　by　the　raucous　strains　of　〃Disco；　Disco；　Duck！〃　ing　from　a　party　boat；　all　lit　up　like　Christmas；　approaching　from　the　south。
　Granny；　she　thought；　help　me；　save　me。　She　hit　the　brakes　instinctively　and　then　realized　that　flooring　it　was　her　only　chance。　She　stomped　on　the　pedal。　The　scuba　tanks；　which　had　slid　violently　forward　when　she　hit　the　brakes；　now　shot　back　as　the　truck　screeched　forward。　When　they　slammed　into　the　tailgate；　they　leapt　up；　and　out　into　the　air；　in　a　perfect　arch。
　The　bridge　tender　saw　Fay's　truck　racing　toward　him　on　one　side；　the　disco　boat　cruising　toward　him　underneath　on　the　other；　scuba　tanks　flying　above　him；　and　almost　directly　below　him；　floating　in　the　water；　a　big　brown　blob　that　looked　like　a　booger。
　He　jammed　his　finger　on　the　red　stop　button；　and　the　ancient　spans　that　had　just　begun　to　rumble　upward　jerked　to　a　halt。　As　soon　as　the　truck　hopped　over　the　slightly　inclined　span；　airborne　for　a　split