‘You know, he’s that beard,’ explained Louie.
‘Sure, I know he’s that beard, you couldn’t miss that. But what credits’s he got? What’s he done to draw one hundred and fifty grand a picture?’
What indeed? Had he, like Pat, been in Hollywood over twenty years? Did he have credits that would knock your eye out, extending up to — well, up to five years ago when Pat’s credits had begun to be few and far between?
‘Listen — they don’t last long,’ said Louie consolingly, ‘We’ve seen ’em come and we’ve seen ’em go. Hey, Pat?’
Yes — but meanwhile those who had toiled1 in the vineyard through the heat of the day were lucky to get a few weeks at three-fifty. Men who had once had wives and Filipinos and swimming pools.
‘Maybe it’s the beard,’ said Louie. ‘Maybe you and I should grow a beard. My father had a beard but it never got him off Grand Street.’
The gift of hope had remained with Pat through his misfortunes — and the valuable alloy2 of his hope was proximity3. Above all things one must stick around, one must be there when the glazed4, tired mind of the producer grappled with the question ‘Who?’ So presently Pat wandered out of the drug-store, and crossed the street to the lot that was home.
As he passed through the side entrance an unfamiliar5 studio policeman stood in his way.
‘Everybody in the front entrance now.’
‘I’m Hobby, the writer,’ Pat said.
The Cossack was unimpressed.
‘Got your card?’
‘I’m between pictures. But I’ve got an engagement with Jack6 Berners.’
‘Front gate.’
As he turned away Pat thought savagely7: ‘Lousy Keystone Cop!’ In his mind he shot it out with him. Plunk! the stomach. Plunk! plunk! plunk!
At the main entrance, too, there was a new face.
‘Where’s Ike?’ Pat demanded.
‘Ike’s gone.’
‘Well, it’s all right, I’m Pat Hobby. Ike always passes me.’
‘That’s why he’s gone,’ said the guardian8 blandly9. ‘Who’s your business with?’
Pat hesitated. He hated to disturb a producer.
‘Call Jack Berners’ office,’ he said. ‘Just speak to his secretary.’
After a minute the man turned from the phone.
‘What about?’ he said.
‘About a picture.’
He waited for an answer.
‘She wants to know what picture?’
‘To hell with it,’ said Pat disgustedly. ‘Look — call Louie Griebel. What’s all this about?’
‘Orders from Mr Kasper,’ said the clerk. ‘Last week a visitor from Chicago fell in the wind machine — Hello. Mr Louie Griebel?’
‘I’ll talk to him,’ said Pat, taking the phone.
‘I can’t do nothing, Pat,’ mourned Louie. ‘I had trouble getting my boy in this morning. Some twirp from Chicago fell in the wind machine.’
‘What’s that got to do with me?’ demanded Pat vehemently10.
He walked, a little faster than his wont11, along the studio wall to the point where it joined the back lot. There was a guard there but there were always people passing to and fro and he joined one of the groups. Once inside he would see Jack and have himself excepted from this absurd ban. Why, he had known this lot when the first shacks12 were rising on it, when this was considered the edge of the desert.
‘Sorry mister, you with this party?’
‘I’m in a hurry,’ said Pat. ‘I’ve lost my card.’
‘Yeah? Well, for all I know you may be a plain clothes man.’ He held open a copy of a photo magazine under Pat’s nose. ‘I wouldn’t let you in even if you told me you was this here Orson Welles.’
点击收听单词发音
1 toiled | |
长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 ); 艰难缓慢地移动,跋涉 | |
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2 alloy | |
n.合金,(金属的)成色 | |
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3 proximity | |
n.接近,邻近 | |
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4 glazed | |
adj.光滑的,像玻璃的;上过釉的;呆滞无神的v.装玻璃( glaze的过去式);上釉于,上光;(目光)变得呆滞无神 | |
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5 unfamiliar | |
adj.陌生的,不熟悉的 | |
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6 jack | |
n.插座,千斤顶,男人;v.抬起,提醒,扛举;n.(Jake)杰克 | |
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7 savagely | |
adv. 野蛮地,残酷地 | |
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8 guardian | |
n.监护人;守卫者,保护者 | |
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9 blandly | |
adv.温和地,殷勤地 | |
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10 vehemently | |
adv. 热烈地 | |
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11 wont | |
adj.习惯于;v.习惯;n.习惯 | |
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12 shacks | |
n.窝棚,简陋的小屋( shack的名词复数 ) | |
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