pzb.drawingblood-第51部分

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l　prejudice　was　almost　nonexistent；　where　the　heroin　was　strong　and　clean　and　there　were　no　hassles　from　the　law。　But　Bird　couldn't。　He　had　to　fly　back　to　the　tawdry　lights　of　Fifty…second　Street；　to　the　clubs　where　he　could　no　longer　play；　to　the　great　sprawling　hungry　land　that　had　made　his　name　a　legend；　but　would　kill　him　at　thirty…five。　He　had　to　e　back。　He　had　to　see　and　hear　everything。　He　was　an　artist。
　　Okay；　he　thought；　I'm　here。　But　I'll　draw　what　I　damn　well　want　to　draw。　And　I　won't　hurt　Zach；　not　ever　again。
　　As　if　in　response；　Zach　moaned　in　his　sleep　and　pushed　his　face　into　Trevor's　shoulder。　Trevor　stroked　his　hair　and　the　smooth　curve　of　his　back；　wondered　what　haunted　Zach's　bad　dreams。　Was　it　a　heavy　grip　falling　on　his　shoulder；　a　set　of　steel　bracelets　dragging　him　away　to　bloody　rape　and　death　in　prison？　Was　it　his　mother's　limpid　eyes　and　cruel　tongue；　or　his　father's　hands？　Or　was　it　something　less　concrete：　an　image　glimpsed　in　a　mirror；　a　shadow　flickering　on　a　wall？
　　The　night　was　very　quiet。　Trevor　heard　the　small　secret　sounds　of　the　house；　the　distant　thrum　of　traffic　on　the　highway；　the　insects　shrilling　and　sawing　in　the　long　grass　outside。　But　closer　than　any　of　that；　as　close　as　his　own；　he　heard　Zach's　breathing　and　Zach's　heartbeat。
　　He　held　Zach　tighter　and　thought　about　all　the　things　he　would　not　give　up。
　　
　　
　　　Chapter　Nineteen
　　
　　The　Sacred　Yew　was　already　crowded　when　Trevor　and　Zach　arrived。　A　warm　rain　had　begun　misting　down；　but　kids　were　still　milling　about　on　the　sidewalk；　basking　in　the　humid　summer　night。　Zach　saw　lots　of　black　and　ragged　denim；　buzz　cuts　and　long　braids　and　hair　dyed　all　colors。　Most　of　the　faces　were　young；　pale；　and　rapt。　Sick　with　joy；　Zach　thought；　watching　their　lives　unfurl　before　them；　a　myriad　of　roads。
　　The　doorman　on　duty　was　a　slight；　reedy　teenage　boy　with　a　facial　bone　structure　as　sharp　and　delicate　as　a　bird's。　His　long　dyed…black　hair　straggled　into　his　face；　lightly　beaded　with　rain；　and　for　a　moment　Zach　wanted　to　swoop　the　poor　starved…looking　thing　into　his　arms　and　give　him　a　jolt　of　the　energy　and　love　crackling　through　his　body。　He　managed　to　restrain　himself。
　　The　boy　stopped　them　as　they　entered　the　club；　and　Zach　spoke　the　four　talismanic　words　as　easily　as　if　he　had　been　saying　them　all　his　life。
　　〃I'm　with　the　band。〃
　　〃What's　your　name？〃
　　〃Dario。〃
　　The　kid　found　the　name　on　his　list　and　scratched　it　off；　then　nodded　at　Trevor。　〃What　about　him？〃
　　〃He's　with　me。〃
　　〃　'Kay。〃　The　kid　picked　up　a　rubber　stamp　and　pressed　it　into　a　red　inkpad；　then　against　the　backs　of　their　left　hands。　The　design　was　a　scary…looking　tree　with　many　spreading　branches；　rather　like　the　mythic　Yggdrasil　with　its　roots　in　hell。
　　They　moved　from　the　warm　night　into　the　heat　and　half…suppressed　excitement　of　the　club。　〃Dario？〃　Trevor　inquired。
　　〃It's　my　stage　name。　After　Dario　Argento。〃
　　Then　they　were　in　the　thick　of　the　crowd　and　talk　became　impossible。　Zach　grabbed　Trevor's　hand　and　led　him　toward　the　tiny　graffiti…covered　room　at　the　back　of　the　stage。　Terry　and　R。J。　were　lounging　on　a　broken…down　sofa。　A　cooler　full　of　the　ubiquitous　Natty　Bohos　sat　atop　a　blown…out；　gutted　amp；　and　Zach　took　one。
　　〃So　Ghost　gets　on　the　phone；〃　Terry　was　telling　R。J。；　〃and　says　'What's　going　on？　Did　you　get　a　new　singer？'　〃
　　〃No　shit！〃
　　〃Yeah！　And　he　goes；　'Well；　watch　out。　Somebody's　after　him。'　And　then　Steve　gets　back　on；　and　he　says；　'Ghost　dreamed　the　FBI　or　something　was　looking　for　your　singer。'〃
　　〃Huh　。　。　。　Hey；　Zach。　Hey；　Trevor。〃
　　Terry　got　up　and　greeted　them　with　a　hug。　〃Zach；　our　psychic　friend　dreamed　the　FBI　was　after　you。　Say　it　ain't　so。〃
　　Zach　tried　to　laugh。　〃Not　unless　they　know　about　all　those　cattle　mutilations。〃　Trevor　squeezed　his　hand。
　　〃So；〃　Terry　said；　〃you　ready　to　go？〃
　　〃Hell；　yes！〃
　　〃I　thought　we'd　play　two　sets。　Everyone　will　buy　beer　during　the　break　and　Kinsey　will　make　more　money！〃
　　〃And　we　can　get　stoned　backstage；〃　said　Calvin；　ing　in。　Zach　wondered　if　he　had　been　listening　at　the　door。　Calvin　was　wearing　a　pair　of　black　cotton　leggings　and　a　skimpy　rag　that　might　once　have　been　a　T…shirt：　nearly　the　same　outfit　Zach　had　on；　but　tighter　and　rattier。　Zach　saw　that　one　of　his　nipples　was　pierced　with　a　silver　ring。　Calvin　beamed　at　Zach　and　offered　him　a　slender　black　object。　An　eyeliner　pencil。
　　〃Want　some？〃
　　Slinking　about　the　stage；　his　eyes　smeared　with　wanton　kohl　。　。　。　〃May　I？〃
　　Calvin　pressed　the　pencil　into　Zach's　hand　and　turned　away；　flexing　his　fingers。　He　seemed　to　have　toned　his　act　down　a　little。　In　fact　the　whole　atmosphere　backstage　had　suddenly　bee　brisk；　excited　but　efficient；　these　guys　were　ready　to　have　fun；　but　they　also　had　a　job　to　do。　Terry　and　R。J。　were　standing；　stretching。　Zach　felt　the　first　flicker　of　nervousness　like　a　wing　brushing　the　inside　of　his　stomach。　He　peered　into　the　tiny　lightless　mirror　Kinsey　had　thoughtfully　provided　and　began　outlining　his　eyes　in　black。
　　Trevor　watched　him　strangely。　〃What　are　you　doing？〃
　　〃Putting　on　makeup。〃　Zach　finished；　smudged　the　corners　a　bit；　then　looked　up　at　Trevor。　〃Do　you　like　it？〃
　　〃I　think　I　better　go　back　into　the　club。〃
　　〃Okay。　Why？〃
　　Trevor　leaned　in　close。　〃Because　if　I　stay　here；〃　he　whispered　in　Zach's　ear；　〃I'm　going　to　fuck　you　right　in　front　of　the　band。〃
　　Great：　now　he　was　going　on　stage　with　a　boner。　〃Wait　till　after　the　show；〃　he　whispered　back。　〃I'll　ruin　you　for　life。〃
　　〃Promise？〃
　　〃Mmmmm。〃　Trevor's　lips　covered　his；　Trevor's　arms　slid　around　him　and　hugged　him　tight。　Then　Trevor　looked　back　at　the　other　musicians。　〃I　hope　you　have　a　good　show；〃　he　said。　They　all　realized　they　had　been　staring；　smiled　a　little　too　widely　and　offered　a　ragged　chorus　of　thanks。
　　The　backstage　door　swung　shut　and　Trevor　was　gone　into　the　crowd。　Terry　glanced　at　the　others。　〃Ready？〃
　　A　round　of　nods。　A　moment　of　silence。　Then　Terry　spoke　three　more　of　rock　and　roll's　talismanic　words：
　　〃Let's　do　it。〃
　　
　　Trevor　was　standing　at　the　very　center　of　the　dance　floor　when　Gumbo　hit　the　stage。　He　felt　the　crowd　pushing　him　forward；　let　himself　surge　closer　to　Zach。
　　Zach　was　already　smiling　at　the　audience　as　if　he　wanted　to　eat　it　alive。　Calvin　and　R。J。　picked　up　their　guitars；　slung　the　brightly　colored　hippie…weave　straps　over　their　shoulders。　Terry　sat　down；　leaned　forward；　and　spoke　hoarsely　into　the　small　mike　mounted　on　his　drum　set。
　　〃Howdy！　We're　Gumbo！〃　A　spatter　of　whistles　and　applause。　〃Thanks。　You'll　notice　that　tonight　we're　four　instead　of　three。　Say　hello　to　DARIO；　our　special　guest　vocalist　appearing　in　a　limited　engagement　of　one　。　。　。　night　。　。　。　only！〃　A　drumstick　kissed　the　edge　of　a　cymbal。　〃DARIO！　A　genu…wine　Cajun　maniac　straight　from　New　OrLEEENS！〃
　　Over　the　forest　of　waving；　fluttering　hands　thrust　up　by　the　crowd；　Trevor　distinctly　saw　Zach　mouth　the　word　Shit。　But　he　recovered　fast　and　ripped　the　microphone　off　its　stand　as　Terry　gave　the　three…beat　intro　to　the　first　song。　Calvin　unleashed　a　fast…and…dirty　flood　of　guitar　noise；　and　R。J。　backed　him　with　a　bass　line　that　made　Trevor　think　of　wheels　blasting　down　an　open　highway。　Zach　stood　with　the　mike　clutched　to　his　chest；　arched　his　back　and　speared　the　audience　with　his　glittering　eyes。
　　Trevor　thought　Zach　was　looking　straight　at　him　as　he　began　to　sing。
　　In　fact；　Zach　had　left　his　glasses　in　the　dressing　room　and　couldn't　see　much　beyond　the　first　four　rows　of　people。　But　he　could　feel　Trevor　in　the　crowd；　could　feel　a　long　invisible　strand　of　electricity　flowing　between　them；　tapping　into　the　web　that　connected　Zach　with　Terry；　R。J。；　and　Calvin；　sending　tendrils　through　the　audience　and　infecting　them　as　well。　It　was　a　silver…blue　energy；　as　galvanizing　as　a　slug　of　moonshine；　as　effervescent　as　a　champagne　chaser。
　　He　opened　his　mouth　and　felt　the　energy　e　blazing　up　his　spine　as　he　let　the　words　fly。　He　barely　knew　what　he　was　singing；　his　photographic　memory　gave　him　back　the　lyrics　and　his　reptile　brain　translated　them　into　pure　emotion　without　ever　processing　their　meaning。　He　twisted　the　syllables；　stretched　the　long　sounds；　pushed　his　voice　way　down　deep　to　match　the　bass；　then　sang　with　the　guitar；　high　and　hoarse　and　clear。
　　The　crowd　pushed　right　up　to　the　stage。　A　few　kids　up　front　were　already　dancing。　Zach　let　their　movements　tug　at　him；　flow　over　him。　Soon　he　was　dancing　harder　than　any　of　them；　remembering　to　breathe；　keeping　his　voice　strong；　letting　the　music　control　him。
　　The　young　upturned　faces　were　sweaty；　eyes　half…closed；　lips　parted　as　if　in　ecstasy。　This　was　like　making　love　to　an　enormous　roomful　of　people　all　at　once；　like　taking　control　of　all　their　pleasure　centers　and　squeezing　hard。　It　was　his　best　fantasy　gone　one　better。　No　one　was　jealous。　Everyone　was　getting　off；　and　getting　him　off。　And　somewhere　right　in　the　middle　of　it　was　his　one　true　love。
　　〃I　gotta　bad　reaaaaction；〃　he　moaned；　lips　brushing　the　mike；　letting　his　voice　crack　a　little；　thinking　of　Billie　Holiday。　〃Gotta　bad　reaction　to　yoooou　。　。　。　gotta　suck　your　poison　every　night；　gotta　swallow　too　。　。　。〃　He　was　improvising　on　the　lyrics　now　as　the　song　ended。　Calvin　caught　his　eye　and　gave　him　a　very　dark　smile。
　　The　next　number　on　the　set　list　read　simply　〃FUNKY　BLUESJAM。〃　Terry　had　told　him　to　vamp　around；　make　up　his　own　lyrics　if　he　wanted。　His　shirt　was　already　soaked。　He　peeled　it　off　as　the　band　eased　into　a　slow；　sexy　groove。　The　crowd　whistled　and　hooted。　Zach　closed　his　eyes　and　tilted　his　head　back　and　just　stood　swaying　at　center　stage　for　a　long　moment；　leggings　riding　low　on　his　hips；　lights　playing　over　the　sweat　on　his　face　and　chest　and　rib　cage。　Me　felt　them　looking　at　him　and　he　let　them　look。
　　Slowly　he　brought　the　mike　up　and　started　singing　again；　letting　his　voice　skitter　and　scat　over　the　music；　only　gradually　beginning　to　form　whole　words　and　lines。　〃Where　the　bars　never　close　。　。　。　And　the　neon　screams　。　。　。　And　the　smell　of　whiskey　gets　in　your　dreams　。　。　。〃
　　A　boy　was　dancing　front　and　center；　head　thrown　back　in　abandon；　red…gold　hair　shaved　close　on　the　sid