el.angeleyes-第12部分
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takes the edge off the heat generated by two。
Tori understands at last that she hates these people； that she feels their ing as an invasion。 That night； whether in the living room； the study； the library； the throngs of people overwhelm her。 She feels suffocated。 She flees the house； but the grounds； too； are choked with celebrities； and still she cannot breathe。 Bent over by the side of the lighted pool； her sanctuary； where she had always felt closest to Greg； she wheezes like an asthmatic。
At last she stumbles to her car； a new Thunderbird； convulsively turns the ignition and； scattering gravel in her wake； speeds away into the night； the neon light of Los Angeles。 Not Beverly Hills or Westwood； but beyond； where people who are not rich； pampered； privileged； work and play。
There is a rage inside her she can neither explain nor face。 She feels inadequate in the face of it； and at the same time ashamed of it； as if part of her mother has broken off and； like a poisoned arrowhead； has embedded itself in her brain。
She hates the shame most of all； because it keeps her from embracing her rage； owning it and； thus； understanding it。 Kept at a distance； it is nothing more than an arcane artifact living at the edge of her emotional horizon； a glyph…covered stele； marking what？ She does not know； but tonight she is determined to find out。
Down twisty Mulholland to the freeway； rolling over the edge of the glen； ing upon the wide swath of smeary lights glowing in the Valley。 The pollution； trapped by the air inversion between high ground； makes her eyes tear； her skin itch。 She depresses the accelerator； bringing the horizon closer。
At a seedy bar she pulls in beside a line of scruffy Harley…Davidson motorcycles。 She sits listening to the hot engine of the T…bird ticking over as if it is the beating of her heart。 Sadness mixes with her rage； and she wishes that Greg were with her； Greg who is always willing to listen to her； the one person in the world who accepts her as herself and nothing more。 But Greg is away at Cal Tech； studying for finals which he takes more seriously than God。
I am alone。 Tori thinks； the glyph…covered stele ing nearer。
She goes into the bar and orders drink after drink。 She is underage； but she regularly passes for eighteen。 In any event； her beauty is something no bartender can resist； and she is never turned down or asked for ID。
A jukebox is blasting 〃The Loco…Motion；〃 and the dancing is ferocious。 There are a number of black leather jackets。 She sees tattoos； long； lank hair； thick； studded belts and armbands。 One biker wears a miniature skull on a leather thong around his neck。 A girt asks him something； and he laughs； fondling it； saying over the music； 〃It's real； man。 Belonged to a rat that thought it could share my kitchen with me。 What you think o' that？〃 The girl giggles giddily and shudders； but she cannot avert her gaze from the grisly talisman。
All the guys…and most of the girls…are staring at Tori。 She sticks out here like a tea rose in a cabbage patch。 Someone is pointing out the window； at her brand new T…bird； and the whispering begins。 The artifact； once at the edge of her horizon； is almost close enough to touch。
The only guy who hasn't noticed her is the one with the rat skull around his neck。 He is not handsome； not even attractive to Tori； but that is irrelevant。 He is the one she wants。 In him burns the fire she knows so well…yet does not understand at all： the rage of the beast caged； bound by the laws of a hypocritical society。 He will be the one； her Rosetta stone； from whom she will obtain the secret of deciphering the glyphs of her rage。
He is dancing with the girl who asked about the skull。 There is a fire in her eyes that Tori recognizes and envies； a fire she feels but must suppress in order to fit into the perfectly manicured life in Diana's Garden。 The fire exhibits itself as simple； unadulterated； elemental； and it represents everything Tori is not。
With a sudden wrenching of the girl's wrist； Tori spins her away and begins dancing with the biker。 He is huge； and she smells him； a rich； heady bination of leather and sweat。 Primitive。 The beast。
〃Hey！ Hey！〃 The girl has returned； her hair disheveled； her face twisted into an angry mask。
〃Get lost！〃 Tori shouts as she dances。 〃I'm here now！〃
〃Bitch！〃 the girl shouts back； and reaches clumsily for her。 The rage bursts its bonds； at last。 Tori twists her upper torso； slams her balled fist into the girl's face。 The girl's neck snaps back and her legs go out from under her。
Tori continues to dance with the biker。 She has not once looked into his eyes。 She does not want to。 His eyes don't interest her。
〃Hey！〃 he says。 〃Hey！〃
Tori is dancing； and hardly notices that he has stopped。
The biker says to her； ''Who the fuck do you think you are？'' And； as casually as someone would swat a fly； he smashes the heel of his thick hand into Tori's nose； breaking it。 。。。
Tori sat very still in the huge leather chair。 It had been a long time since she had thought of that night in the Valley。 Because her nose had healed slightly crooked； her mother had taken her to her own plastic surgeon。 But after seeing the array of new noses he could provide her； Tori had run out of his office and never gone back。 In the end； her imperfect nose had bee for her a badge of sorts； a reminder of what she had never gotten and what she needed。
Freedom to be 。。。
Be what？ She did not know。 But Adona was right： she needed a passion。 Without it； she was suspended in limbo； surviving perhaps； but hardly living。
〃Tori？〃 Laura Nunn poked her head into the library。 She was wearing a pair of blue jeans with lines of rhinestones across the pockets and down the legs； and a plain white man…tailored shirt； both of which she had just bought at a posh store on Rodeo Drive in the mistaken impression this casual outfit would allow her to feel closer to her daughter。 But this attempt at being a pal was a role as well； and the sight merely saddened Tori。
〃Oh； there you are； darling！ You seemed to have disappeared like a puff of smoke。〃 Laura Nunn flashed her kilowatt smile。 〃There's someone here to see you。〃
〃There is？ I don't see how。〃 Tori looked up from the book she was reading。 She had one leg thrown over the arm of me oversized leather chair she was slouched in。 She was barefoot； wearing only a pair of cutoffs and a Cal Tech T…shirt。 ''No one knows where I am。〃
〃Nevertheless； he's here。〃
〃Who？〃
〃Russell。〃
〃Russell who？〃
〃Why； you know； dear。 Russell Slade。〃 Laura Nunn held the smile as if she were waiting for the director to yell； Cut！
〃Jesus Christ！〃 Tori slammed the book shut； jumped off the chair。 〃I hope to God you told him to go to hell or； at the very least； that I wasn't home。〃
〃I did nothing of the sort；〃 Laura Nunn said。 〃I told him I was delighted to see him…which； by the way； I am。 I told him I'd go fetch you。 Now…〃
〃Mother； Russell Slade fired me！〃
〃Well； I'm sure that was just a misunderstanding；〃 Laura Nunn said。 〃More a matter of internal politics than anything else。 I'm certain it had nothing to do with the kind of job you were doing。 New regimes； and all that。 People who e into a new job want their own people under them。 It's only natural； darling。 I've seen it happen often enough at the studios。 One just has to thicken one's skin。 The last thing you need is to take this kind of unpleasantness personally。〃
〃Oh； Jesus； I haven't even spoken to Russell since he canned me a year and a half ago。''
〃Not even when we were 。。。 in Washington last year？〃
〃No。〃 Tori's mother could not bring herself to speak of it； but the President had presented them with the Congressional Medal of Honor awarded posthumously to Greg； and she had carried it back here； put it away in a drawer in Greg's room。 It was to her not a symbol of pride； but rather another reminder of the enormous tragedy of his death。
〃I can't think why you haven't patched up your differences by now； darling。 He's such an adorable man。 Just perfect for…〃 Some sixth sense caused her to stop。 She turned to look over her shoulder； said in a voice so bright it verged on being brittle； 〃Darling； look who's here！〃
And Tori saw Russell Slade brush past her mother； neatly cutting off her own avenue of escape from the library。
〃Hello； Tori；〃 he said； just as if nothing had ever happened between them。
Tori； for the moment speechless； looked past him to where her mother still stood in the partly open doorway。 Laura Nunn gave Tori a beseeching look； then quietly closed the door。
Russell looked around。 〃I haven't been here in a long time。 It was good to see your mother again。 My God； what a magnificent woman she is。〃
〃You've got a set of brass ones；〃 Tori said。 〃What the hell are you doing here？''
〃Could I have a drink； do you think？ It's a long drive from the airport。〃
Tori went to the wet bar along one wall； fixed him a Tom Collins without asking him what he wanted； she already knew。 She handed him the drink； and he nodded。 He was dressed elegantly but fortably in a dark blue polo shirt； linen trousers； a beautifully cut lightweight silk jacket。 Tori was acutely aware that she was barefoot and dressed like a waif。 She seemed at a distinct disadvantage； like a naughty child being interviewed by her father。
〃I've e to debrief you；〃 Russell Slade said。
〃Debrief me？〃
He nodded。 〃Someone had to do it。 I thought it might as well be me。 Ariel Solares was one of my best field men。 Since you were there when he died； you know it's standard operating procedure that you be debriefed。〃
〃You're the director； you don't know the first thing about debriefing field personnel； they're too far down the food chain。〃
Russell ignored her sarcasm。 〃As I said； Solares was one of my best men。 I thought it wise if I came myself。''
〃Don't bullshit me； Russell。 You came here because it was me who was with him。''
〃I understand your anger； but…〃
〃You don't understand one thing about me！〃 Tori flared。
Russell； taking a sip of his drink； regarded her coolly over the rim of his glass。 〃In any event； 〃 he said at last； 〃I've got to talk to you。〃
〃I don't work for you anymore。〃
He sighed as he took a s
