THE FUNICULAR SET us down on a concrete platform, and we walked to a waist-high redwood-and-glass fence set twenty yards behind the cable unit. The barrier stretched the width of the property—at least three hundred feet—and halfway1 to the northern edge; a husky man in a gray uniform stooped and sprayed glass cleaner from a blue bottle. The area between the cliff edge and the fence was a hundred thousand dollars' worth of packed brown Malibu dirt. No need to conserve2 space; the expanse before me was twenty acres minimum, maybe more.
Twenty calculated acres. The earth had been bunched into too-gentle slopes of a symmetry that would've amused Mother Nature, then cloaked with emerald sod. Beds of tropical vegetation had been cut into the grass, and medallions of flowers sprouted3 bauble-bright. Granite5 paths, some hooded6 by pink marble arbors laced with scarlet7 bougainvillea, others sun-whitened, sickled8 through perfect lawns under the selective shade of specimen9 trees. Maybe half a thousand trees, grouped in copses and pruned10 sculpturally, as calculated for size and shape as Cheryl's breasts. The beat of the ocean continued to work its way up. But it competed now with new water music—waterfalls, at least a dozen minicataracts, tumbling into rock pools that seemed to sprout4 from nowhere. The soda11 spritz of skyward-aimed fountains jetted from free-form rock ponds, some occupied by swans and ducks and pink flamingos12. Bird cries in thedistance didn't belong to any native species, and something that might've been a monkey shrieked13.
I said, "Sounds like someone's got a zoo."
"All kinds of animals," said Cheryl, smiling enigmatically and moving several steps ahead of me, long, blond hair flapping against her back. Sage14 was slung15 over her shoulder, sleeping soundly, cheeks bunched, tiny mouth a vermilion squiggle. Baxter held my hand without offering resistance. His pace had slowed and his eyelids16 fluttered, and when I lifted him into my arms he didn't fight, and I felt his body go heavy against mine.
Cheryl walked faster. Lagging slightly behind allowed me to check out the estate. No buildings in sight, just greenery, and now the fountains' ejaculations had drowned out the ocean. A few acres to the right the lawn sloped to a silver mirror: an unfenced, dark-bottomed swimming pool the size of a small lake. No birds. How did they keep them out?
No swimmers either. But for us and the glass cleaner, no humanity. The place had all the intimacy17 of a restricted resort, and I half-expected some officious sort to dart18 out from the shrubbery and check my membership card.
Cheryl turned onto a path, and we passed behind beds of tall, flowering pampas grass, hedges of variegated20 mock orange, a grove21 of two-story Hollywood junipers studded with blue-gray berries. The trees obscured the rest of the property, and I caught up with Cheryl. When her hip19 bumped mine a couple of times and I didn't react, her jaw22 set and she surged ahead of me again. The junipers gave way to a planting of cattails, and I resumed sneaking23 peeks24 between the stalks.
Up ahead and to the right were high, peach-stucco walls. Black, angled court lights hinted at tennis, and a rubbery thump-thump said relaxed competition.
A sharp twist of the pathway revealed a building—a quarter mile up, at the terminus of a palm colonnade25. More peach walls and an Italianate heap the size of the White House under a royal blue roof. The pathway forked, and Cheryl chose the route that took us away from the house, through an allee of orange trees. Several smaller buildings cropped up along the way—acres away, similarly colored, heavily plant-shrouded. Then a few people: women in navy blue uniforms sweeping26 the walkways. Stout27, dark-haired women with bowed legs, dresses hanging below the knees. Norris and the parking lot dudes would be crushed.
We entered a dark, bamboo-lined cul-de-sac, walked five hundred feet, turned sharply east. At the end of the path stood a one-story house only twice the size of the average suburban28 dream. A trellis-topped front loggia was burdened by a mass of half-dead trumpet29 vine. More bamboo towered at the back. The same peach walls and cerulean roof. Up close, I saw that the stucco had been sponged to a mottled finish and lacquered glossy30. The worn Mediterranean31 villa32 look, complete with artificial age scars at the corners, peeled back to reveal ersatz brickwork. Huge double doors of weathered walnut33 looked genuinely ancient, but any attempt to evoke34 the Aegean or le Cote d'Azur was killed by the roof tiles—some kind of space-age composite, too bright, too blue, cheesy enough to top a pizza.
"Here we are," said Cheryl over her shoulder. "My place."
"Nice."
She tossed her hair. "It's temporary. I used to have a place of my own, then . . . What's the difference?" She hurried toward the double doors, yanked the handle. Resistance pitched her forward, and Sage's head bob-bled.
"Locked?" she said. "I left it open—shit, someone must've locked it." Patting the pockets of the dress. "Shit, I didn't take a key. Now I feel really stupid."
"Hey, it happens."
She faced me, and the blue-green eyes narrowed. "Are you always this nice?"
"Nope," I said. "You caught me on a good day."
"I'll bet you have lots of good days," she said, touching35 my pinkie with hers but making it sound like a character flaw. She licked her lips. Lovely California girl face. Fresh, healthy, unlined. Even the freckles36 were perfectly37 placed. Nature's bounty38, if you discounted the aggressive mammaries.
"Okay," she said, "it looks like I'm going to have to go find someone to let me in. I can leave you with Baxter and take Sage—no, I guess you better come with me."
"Sure," I said.
She gave a soft, breathy laugh. "You have absolutely no idea where you are, do you—no idea who owns this place?"
"Someone with a good stockbroker39, I'd say."
She laughed. "That's funny." Her eyelids shuttered closed, then opened slowly. "Where exactly are you from, Alex?"
"Huh?"
"I'm from L.A., Cheryl."
"Where, like the Valley?"
"West L.A."
"Oh." She thought about that. "Because the Valley can be a far place— sometimes people don't know what's going on over the hill."
"So you're saying this is some kind of famous place?" I shrugged41. "Sorry."
"Well ..." She winked42 conspiratorially43. "I bet you really do know— without knowing you know. Take a guess."
"Okay," I said. "Some kind of celebrity44 ... a movie star. If you're an actress, I'm sorry for not—"
"No, no." She giggled45. "I've acted, but that's not it."
"Someone rich and famous ..."
"Now you're getting warm—"
She looped her pinkie around mine, and I thought of how Robin46 had held my index finger as she slept.
"C'mon," she said. "Guess."
Then one of the double doors opened and she jumped back, as if slapped.
A couple stood in the opening.
The woman was tall, thin, slightly stooped, in her late thirties, with broad shoulders and long limbs. Square-jawed face, black, brooding eyes, mahogany hair tied back in a ponytail, too many worry lines for her age. Despite the wrinkles, a chapped slice of mouth, and the grainy vestiges47 of teenage acne on chin and cheeks, she was attractive in a forbidding way— some men would go nuts for the challenge.
She had on a slim-cut, burgundy pantsuit with black velvet48 shawl lapels and matching cuffs49. Any curves she might've owned were concealed50 bythe loose drape of the suit, but the gestalt was poised51 and feminine. No jewelry52, lots of foundation masking the blemishes53. No problem recognizing her: Anita Duke. Marc Anthony's heir apparent and the new CEO of Duke Enterprises.
Ben Dugger's younger sister. I searched for resemblance, saw nuances of shared chromosomes54 in the stoop and the sad eyes.
The man beside her was a few years younger—thirty-two or -three— and an inch shorter. He wore a cream linen55 suit, pink silk T-shirt, beige sandals without socks. A platinum56 watch with a face the size of a snowball flashed from under his left sleeve. Thick wrists, bristly reddish hair curling up to the knuckles57. His face was a full, ruddy sphere atop a soft, seamed neck. Long, thick, coarsely wavy58 hair the color of dirty brass59 flowed over his ears and trailed past his collar. Some recession in front exposed a high, domed60 brow. Sooty puffiness below deep-set hazel eyes gave him a sleepy look. He had a small, straight nose, no upper lip to speak of. But the lower slab61 was full and moist, and when he smiled at Cheryl his teeth were snowy and perfectly aligned62. Strongly built, the slightest suggestion of pot above the waistband of his linen trousers. If he took care of himself, he'd remain crudely handsome for a decade or two. If not, he'd end up a Falstaffian cartoon.
"Cheryl," said Anita Duke, softly. Her eyes were on me.
"What are you guys doing here?" said Cheryl. "Did you lock the door? I left it open."
"We had no idea where you were so we locked it, Cheryl. Who's your
friend?"
"Alex. He— I was down on the beach and—he ended up helping63 me."
"Helping you?" Anita looked me up and down. Same onceover Cheryl had delivered down on the beach, but this scrutiny64 was impersonal—flat and suspicious—without the slightest flavor of flirtation65. Trained eye accustomed to judging flesh?
The long-haired man had been examining Cheryl's wet dress. One of his hands began massaging66 a button of his suit.
"I had a little . . . trouble," said Cheryl.
"Trouble? "said Anita.
"No big deal," said Cheryl. "So . . . what're you guys doing here?"
"We dropped by," said the man. He had a high, nasal voice. Without looking at me, he said, "Doing some diving?"Cheryl said, "He was boating, Kent. Baxter got a little bit in the water, and he helped me. So I thought it would be nice—"
Anita broke in: "Are you saying Baxter could've drowned?"
"No, no. It never got to that point— It's no big deal, guys. He just got in the water before I could stop him and the waves got a little ... I would've reached him just fine, but Alex here was passing by, and he was nice enough to jump in, that's all."
"Alex," said the man named Kent. "Sounds kind of exciting—"
Anita Duke shot him a sharp look, and he shut his mouth.
"It was no really big deal, guys," Cheryl insisted. "You know what a good swimmer Bax is. It's just that I had Sage on my hands too, and by the time— Alex helped me and I wanted to thank him, so I asked him to come up so I could give him something."
"A tip," said Kent.
Anita said, "Well, that's certainly the gracious thing to do." To Kent: "Why don't you show him our appreciation67, honey, and then you can see him off."
Talking softly, but no mistaking the imperiousness. There's nothing men despise more than being ordered around by a woman in front of another man. Long-haired Kent smiled and dipped his hand into his trouser pocket, but the anger settled around his eyes and his mouth, and he threw it back at me.
A crocodile billfold appeared, and he pulled out a twenty and waved it in my face. "Here you go, my friend."
"A little more than that, Kent," said Anita. "After all."
Kent's mouth turned down, and his eyes disappeared among fleshy folds. "How much?"
"You be the judge."
"Sure," said Kent, forcing a smile. Another twenty joined the first.
"I'd say another," offered Anita.
Kent's smile hung on for dear life. Out came the billfold again, and he thrust the sixty dollars at me. "My wife's the generous type."
"No, thanks," I said. "No tip necessary."
"Take it," said Anita. "It's the least we can do."
"It's just as she said, no big deal."
Cheryl said, "Anyway, I need to get the kids inside."
"I'll help you with them," said Anita. "Give me Baxter—he's always ahandful for you." Stepping forward, she placed her hands around the boy's rib68 cage, took him from me, kept her face close to mine. "Let's make it an even hundred dollars and then you can go, Alex."
"Nothing," I said. "I'll go anyway."
"Oh, dear," said Anita. Holding Baxter tight, she walked into the house.
Cheryl flashed me a look—helpless, apologetic—then followed.
Kent said, "Let me give you some advice: When someone offers you something, you should take it. Just out of courtesy." He waved the three twenties.
"Donate it to charity," I said.
He smiled. "I thought I was— Okay, you're a stubborn guy. Let's get you back to your canoe." Placing a hand on my shoulder. Squeezing a little too forcefully, and when I resisted he dug his fingers in even harder. I freed myself from his grip, and his hands rose protectively. Boxer's instincts. But still smiling.
I turned and headed back down the pathway. He caught up, laughing, his pink T-shirt spotted70 with sweat. He wore a strong cologne—orange brandy and anise and some other scents71 I couldn't pinpoint72. "What exactly happened with Cheryl and Bax?"
"Just what Cheryl said."
"The kid wasn't drowning? You just decided73 to play hero?"
"At the time it seemed the right thing to do."
"I'm asking because sometimes she gets careless," he said. "Not intentionally74, more like . . . she doesn't always pay attention." Pause. "Did she wave for you or did you just volunteer?"
"I saw the boy out in the water, couldn't tell he was a good swimmer, and went after him. That's it."
"Oh boy," he said, chuckling75. "I've rubbed you the wrong way. Sorry, I just wanted to know. For the sake of those kids. I'm their uncle, and more often than not the responsibility falls on my wife and me."
I didn't answer.
He said, "We're talking child welfare here, my friend."
"I volunteered," I said. "I probably overreacted."
"Okay," he said. "So now I've got a straight answer. Finally." Grin. "You're making me work, bro." He wiped his forehead.
We walked to the fence in silence. When we got there he placed his hand on the gate latch76. "Look, you did a good deed, I really would like to compensate77 you. How about two hundred, cash, and we call it a deal? Also, I'd appreciate it if you don't tell anyone about this— You live around here?"
"Tell who?"
"Anyone."
"Sure," I said. "Nothing to tell."
He studied me. "You don't know who she is?"
I shook my head.
He laughed, whipped out the billfold.
I shook my head. "Forget it."
"You really mean it, don't you?" he said. "What are you, one of those Samaritan guys? Okay, listen, if there's anything I can do for you—like if you need some work—do you do construction stuff? Or maintenance? I've always got something in development. Did you come from Paradise?"
I nodded.
"The restaurant," he said. "That's one of mine—we're going to turn it into a landmark78. So if you need a gig ..." He slipped a white business card out of the fold.
KENT D. IRVING
Vice69 President and Projects Manager Duke Enterprises
"Duke," I said. "Not the magazine?"
"Yes, the magazine, bro. Among other things."
I smiled. "Then how about a free subscription79?"
"Hey, there's an idea." He slapped my back, drew his head back, and looked into the sun. Edging closer. Crowding me. "Give my office a call, we'll send you a coupla years' worth."
I said, "I can see why you wouldn't want me talking to anyone."
"Can you?" Harder slap. "Well, there you go. And I know you'll show some class. Not showing class would make a lot of people very unhappy, and you don't look like the kind of guy who wants to spread unhappiness."
"God forbid."
"God doesn't always forbid it," he said. "Sometimes we have to look out for ourselves."
He held the gate open, waited until I'd walked to the cable car and boarded, then produced a remote-control unit of his own. Big smile and a thumb flick80 and I was descending81.
He waved bye-bye. I waved back, but I was staring over his shoulder, a hundred feet beyond, by one of the rock ponds, where a man in tennis whites stood and tossed something to the flamingos.
Thick torso, bulky shoulders, a cap of cropped black hair.
Black Suit, now in tennis whites. Drawing back his arm, he pitched to the birds. Scratched his head. Watched them eat.
Kent Irving kept his eye on me as I sank out of view.
收听单词发音 |
1
halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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conserve
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| vt.保存，保护，节约，节省，守恒，不灭 | |
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sprouted
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| v.发芽( sprout的过去式和过去分词 )；抽芽；出现；（使）涌现出 | |
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sprout
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| n.芽，萌芽；vt.使发芽，摘去芽；vi.长芽，抽条 | |
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granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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hooded
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| adj.戴头巾的；有罩盖的；颈部因肋骨运动而膨胀的 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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sickled
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| vt.用镰刀割…（sickle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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pruned
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| v.修剪（树木等）( prune的过去式和过去分词 )；精简某事物，除去某事物多余的部分 | |
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soda
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| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
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flamingos
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| n.红鹳，火烈鸟（羽毛粉红、长颈的大涉禽）( flamingo的名词复数 ) | |
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shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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sage
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| n.圣人，哲人；adj.贤明的，明智的 | |
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slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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dart
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| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
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hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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variegated
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| adj.斑驳的，杂色的 | |
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grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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sneaking
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| a.秘密的，不公开的 | |
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peeks
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| n.偷看，窥视( peek的名词复数 )v.很快地看( peek的第三人称单数 )；偷看；窥视；微露出 | |
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colonnade
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| n.柱廊 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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suburban
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| adj.城郊的，在郊区的 | |
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trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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Mediterranean
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| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
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villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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walnut
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| n.胡桃，胡桃木，胡桃色，茶色 | |
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evoke
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| vt.唤起，引起，使人想起 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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freckles
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| n.雀斑，斑点( freckle的名词复数 ) | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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bounty
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| n.慷慨的赠予物，奖金；慷慨，大方；施与 | |
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stockbroker
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| n.股票（或证券），经纪人（或机构） | |
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turnip
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| n.萝卜，芜菁 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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conspiratorially
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celebrity
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| n.名人，名流；著名，名声，名望 | |
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giggled
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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robin
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| n.知更鸟，红襟鸟 | |
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vestiges
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| 残余部分( vestige的名词复数 )； 遗迹； 痕迹； 毫不 | |
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48
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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49
cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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jewelry
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| n.（jewllery）（总称）珠宝 | |
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53
blemishes
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| n.（身体的）瘢点( blemish的名词复数 )；伤疤；瑕疵；污点 | |
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54
chromosomes
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| n.染色体( chromosome的名词复数 ) | |
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55
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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56
platinum
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| n.白金 | |
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57
knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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58
wavy
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| adj.有波浪的，多浪的，波浪状的，波动的，不稳定的 | |
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59
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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60
domed
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| adj. 圆屋顶的, 半球形的, 拱曲的 动词dome的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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slab
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| n.平板，厚的切片；v.切成厚板，以平板盖上 | |
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aligned
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| adj.对齐的，均衡的 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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flirtation
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| n.调情，调戏，挑逗 | |
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66
massaging
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| 按摩，推拿( massage的现在分词 ) | |
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67
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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rib
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| n.肋骨，肋状物 | |
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69
vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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scents
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| n.香水( scent的名词复数 )；气味；（动物的）臭迹；（尤指狗的）嗅觉 | |
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pinpoint
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| vt.准确地确定；用针标出…的精确位置 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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intentionally
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| ad.故意地，有意地 | |
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chuckling
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的现在分词 ) | |
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76
latch
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| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
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77
compensate
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| vt.补偿，赔偿；酬报 vi.弥补；补偿；抵消 | |
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landmark
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| n.陆标，划时代的事，地界标 | |
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subscription
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| n.预订，预订费，亲笔签名，调配法，下标（处方） | |
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flick
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| n.快速的轻打，轻打声，弹开；v.轻弹，轻轻拂去，忽然摇动 | |
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81
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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