The rendezvous1 with Derek was just the push I needed to cross over into the PromisedLand. I had proof that I could have something beautiful on the other side of the hell thatwas my marriage. Tommy’s dark reign2 over me was now crumbling3. Derek was outside ofTommy’s world; Tommy couldn’t destroy him, and I felt the possibility of my owndestruction coming to an end.
“The Roof,” as a song and a video, painted a deeply passionate4 and very accuratepicture of my experiences. It was major for me, not for any salacious reason but becauseany intimacy5 with another human being was not something I had experienced before, ever.
It was an amazing feeling, and I was obsessed6 with replaying the encounter andfantasizing what it could lead to.
I romanticized so much about that night that I believed it was part of my destiny. Ithought I had met my soul mate. I was driven. My whole being ached to see Derek—or,more accurately7, to experience how I felt when I was near him.
In creating the video concept for “The Roof (Back in Time),” I wanted to capture thefeeling of the night—the crazy anticipation8 and the strong sensual undertones. I wanted itto be a little raw and sexy. We played on the “back in time” theme with a stylish9 old-school eighties hip- hop10 vibe, which was not a common era to reprise in 1998. Thewardrobe stylist had to scour11 thrift12 stores and costume shops to get Adidas tracksuits,Kangol hats, and Sergio Valente jeans; and Serge Normant the hairstylist worked overtimeto achieve my Farrah Fawcett layered, feathered moment. We featured Mobb Deep,members of the rap group the Negro League, and legit break-dancers. I knew it was a verycool video, good for both the “urban” and “mainstream” markets.
But anytime I made a move forward for myself, there would always be backlash. The“show” that was my marriage might have been over, but the aftershow—the “meet andgreet,” the dismantling13 of the stage—took a lot of delicate planning. There was quite a bitof upheaval14. My life was thoroughly15 intertwined with Tommy’s; I needed time, andcounsel on a clean (as possible) exit strategy. I moved into a hotel on the Upper East Sideand continued therapy.
I was still absorbed in the memory of the roof and wasn’t willing to fall back into themud of despair. A new part of me was alive, and I was intent on feeding it. I heard fromone of the Armani people that Derek was going to be in Puerto Rico. At our next therapysession, I announced to Tommy that I needed to go on a trip. I made the case that it wastime for him to honor the scope of our new agreement: he was supposed to let me go, andwe could see other people. I’d been out alone socially, I’d been in recording16 sessionswithout him picking me up, I’d been taking acting17 classes and spending the night at myteacher’s house (right), and now it was time to go somewhere, just for me. (Okay, maybe Ifelt a teeny bit bad about that last part—but ya gotta do what ya gotta do to survive.) Imade it sound super reasonable: perhaps me and my assistant, or maybe another girlfriend,would go away for the weekend, to somewhere where I could swim in the ocean and chillin the sun and write (keeping in mind I’d never done anything like that while at Sing Sing,never)—somewhere beautiful and close, like Puerto Rico. My assistant was totally into it.
She was still young herself, and this was a legitimate18 secret romance. We were all caughtup.
We stayed at the El Conquistador Resort, a lovely collection of villas20 in a gorgeous,classic, old-style Spanish-Caribbean hotel on a lush private island. It was tucked intogreen hills and right on an exclusive beach. We decided21 to go to the popular dance clubEgipto, which was in Old San Juan, nearly an hour away. It was designed like an Egyptiantemple, and as if in a scene in Antony and Cleopatra, in walked Derek. We had notorchestrated this meeting, but I just knew. I so believed in my heart he would be there atthe club that I had had my assistant book a villa19 at another resort, El San Juan Hotel, thatwas nearby. We stayed at the club briefly22, and I informed him I had secured a littlehideaway.
So there we were again, sneaking23 around to avoid my security. We went out the backdoor of the club and walked through a maze24 of small pathways through the palm trees andblooming bushes to the resort and my villa, accompanied by sultry night air. We got backto my room, and that familiar dance of the butterflies began. Being alone with someone Ihad a genuine attraction to was all so new to me. And again, I threw caution to theCaribbean breeze and surrendered into his arms and the moment. We lay for the night inone embrace, engaging in one, single, long kiss. It was the sexiest moment—without sex.
I knew my security saw me and saw Derek leave my room in the morning, but I finallyfelt something stronger than fear of Tommy’s revenge. Now that I had it, I couldn’timagine life without this feeling. Desire became my reason for living, my all. Sleep didn’tcome on the plane ride back to New York, but a song did. I started writing.
I am thinking of you
In my sleepless25 solitude26 tonight
If it’s wrong to love you
Then my heart just won’t let me be right
’Cause I’ve drowned in you
And I won’t pull through
Without you by my side
—“My All”
Going to Puerto Rico was a paradigm27 shift. After that trip, I strategized and carried outanother coup28 on behalf of my heart: I put everything I was feeling at that time into a song.
It was a gigantic risk, because I knew Tommy assumed I was having a sexual affair (eventhough, technically29, I wasn’t yet). It was also a revelation. There was an excitement andpurpose awake in me that fueled me to a new level in my creativity. I was hearingdifferent melodies, and I had new, real experiences to draw from. So I did somethingdangerous and beautiful for me—and everyone was scared for me.
I’d give my all to have
Just one more night with you
I’d risk my life to feel
Your body next to mine
’Cause I can’t go on
Living in the memory of our song
I’d give my all for your love tonight
There would be hell to pay, I knew. I truly believed I was actually risking my life, butI felt life wasn’t worth living if I couldn’t have what I’d had that night. “My All” was therealest, boldest, most passionate love song I’d ever written. I brought to it the Spanishundertones, the warm breeze, the ecstasy30 of desire, and the agony of separation that Iremembered so clearly.
Baby can you feel me?
Imagining I’m looking in your eyes
I can see you clearly
Vividly31 emblazoned in my mind
And yet you’re so far, like a distant star
I’m wishing on tonight
I’d give my all to have
Just one more night with you
—“My All”
This song was about life and death, and I didn’t want it to get lost in any over-the-topschmaltz. I needed it to be strong and simple. I wanted the vocals32 to be the centerpiece, thefocal point in the mix, with a stripped-down track behind them. It was all about theemotion, the soul, and I sang it as if my life depended on it.
I first played the song for Tommy and Don Ienner, the then chairman of the ColumbiaRecords Group, in the Range Rover, on our way to a restaurant in upstate New York. Donknew it was a hit. Tommy knew it could never be about him. A new place inside of me asan artist that had previously34 been sealed off was now fully35 exposed. And “My All” was ahit, a platinum36 hit. Later, Jermaine (Dupri), The-Dream, and Floyd “Money” Mayweather,three solid dudes, told me “My All” is their favorite song of mine. As creators, they knowlove is life, and there’s nothing more real than that.
I had already begun working on Butterfly before my encounters with Derek, but theyinspired some of the growing maturity37 and complexity38 in my songwriting and structures.
The narratives39 and the melodies were coming from a fresher place. I was hearing things ina more layered, raw, and sophisticated way. I was feeling freer and less apprehensive40 tospread my creative wings. I advocated for the sound I wanted. I reached out to newproducers who could bring that smooth, sexy edge to it. I started working on “Breakdown”
with Stevie J, one of Bad Boy Records’ “Hitmen,” and Puffy. I brought Stevie, Puffy, andQ-Tip—one of the coolest and most creative guys out there—together for what wouldbecome the album’s lead single, “Honey.” I’d begun the lyrics41 and basic melody in PuertoRico. Q-Tip made this amazing sample of “Body Rock,” by the Treacherous42 Three. I toldthem I also wanted to include the 1984 hit “Hey! D.J.,” by the World’s Famous SupremeTeam: “Hey! D.J. just play that song / Keep me dancing (Dancing) all night long.” Littledid they know it was a secret shout-out to Derek Jeter. “Honey” was a song about jonesin’
for that DJ feeling.
Oh, I can’t be elusive43 with you honey
’Cause it’s blatant44 that I’m feeling you
And it’s too hard for me to leave abruptly45
’Cause you’re the only thing I wanna do
And it’s just like honey
—“Honey”
When I played “Honey” for Tommy, he quipped, “Well, I’m glad you were soinspired.” The bitterness! I was like, “What? Now you’re mad? Why didn’t you get madabout ‘Fantasy’ or ‘Dreamlover’?” It’s blatantly46 obvious I wasn’t talking about Tommy inthat song! I wasn’t talking about him, or any actual person, in practically any romanticsong. Before I met Derek, they were mostly imaginary characters. I’m sure Tommy couldsense that the songs written for Butterfly were no longer about far-off, fictional47 lovers—these songs, though certainly poetically48 embellished49, were full of specific details andsensual realness.
Tommy and the label were also resistant50 to what my new sound represented. Again Iheard the refrain “too urban,” which of course was code for “too Black”—and yeah, Iwasn’t ever going back.
“Honey” was the first time I felt I had full creative license51 in making a video. We weremaking a mini- comedy– action thriller52, and it was possible thanks to an insane two-million-dollar budget. The video allowed me to really explore my kitschy humor, withFrank Sivero as the gangster53 character with the crazy hair. I also included Johnny Brennanfrom the Jerky Boys—“Honey pie, sweetie pie, cutie pants.” I lived for the Jerky Boys;they were so silly. Come on, I wasn’t trying to ridicule54 Tommy—I was just playing withcinematic stereotypes55, juxtaposing Johnny’s character with Eddie Griffin’s. My Spanishline—“Lo siento, pero no te entiendo”—was delivered with a wink56.
What I did in the “Honey” video is what I had always wanted to do. I got to explorecreative and fashion influences without label restrictions57. My look was inspired by UrsulaAndress in the 1970s 007 movies. I wanted to look glamorous58, dangerous, and badass, likea Bond girl. And I finally had the freedom to access the right creative team to achieve thelooks. Emerging out of the swimming pool in the beige bombshell bikini? That was me. Iwas also finally able to work with a young, hot Black director, Paul Hunter, who got allmy jokes and James Bond references, but who also made sure the video had acontemporary and stylish look. The whole crew and vibe was just young, fiery59, and fun.
The experience was such a contrast to all the videos I made while sequestered60 in upstateNew York, where everything had to be done within a twenty-mile radius61 of Sing Sing. Thewhole message in the “Honey” video was that I was breaking free—although no oneunderstood the insanity62, toxicity63, and abuse I was living inside. They had no clue.
While we filmed the video, in Puerto Rico, I could often see my manager in thedistance on the shore, hard shoes off, khaki pants rolled up at the ankle, pacing along thebeach with his phone glued to his ear—talking to Tommy incessantly64. Even though wewere technically separated at that point, I was still the top Sony artist. Plus, knowing myevery move was a hard habit for Tommy to break. My manager was reporting but notgiving him the blow-by-blow. It would’ve made Tommy nuts to know I was having such agood time.
As much as I loved “Honey,” my only major disappointment was that Biggie (theNotorious B.I.G.) never made it onto the remix. Puffy and I had talked about bringing to“Honey” a similar blend of my raspy, silky vocal33 texture65 with the kind of grit66 and flowODB brought to the remix of “Fantasy.” I had never met Biggie, but there was a runningstory that I had beef with him because of his song “Dreams of Fucking an RnB Bitch”:
Jasmine Guy was fly
Mariah Carey’s kinda scary
Wait a minute, what about my honey Mary?
I was kinda scary? What does that mean? Fuck him. If he only knew some of the scaryshit I’d actually been through. Puffy called him one day while we were working in thestudio and put me on the phone. In true Biggie form—half pimp, half preacher—he said,“Naw, ma, you know, no disrespect,” assuring me the song was all in fun. So things werecool between us. On the call, we talked about the music and flow, and even clowned alittle bit. It was a chill and creative conversation. He was confident about what he wantedto bring to “Honey,” and I had no doubt he would come in the studio and crush it; that’swhat Biggie did. Tragically67, he didn’t live long enough to make our studio date. The“Honey (Bad Boy Remix)” featuring Mase and the Lox was a smash, but there’s a part ofme that still misses Biggie on that song, and certainly in this world.
Producing the songs for Butterfly was what got me through that period in my life. Iwas writing about everything that was actually going on. It was the beginning of anotherlevel in my healing process. After the failure of the fake separation, after Puerto Rico,after the sexy-ass songs started pouring out, after all the pain we triggered in each other,after all the crazy normalcy we pretended to have and the stifling68 grip of his control hadfinally loosened, Tommy knew there was nothing left of the marriage.
I got a new lawyer, someone outside of Tommy’s circle of power. I had her draw upthe papers. Tommy signed, and I boarded a jet to the Dominican Republic, where mutual-consent divorces for foreigners are processed with the quickness. I flew into SantoDomingo, saw a judge, got my freedom papers, hopped69 back on the jet, and went straightto Tampa, where Derek was at spring training! I finally felt like a butterfly.
Don’t be afraid to fly?… spread your wings
Open up the door?… so much more inside
On that flight, I wasn’t afraid. I was incredibly vulnerable and raw. I’d closed andopened a door. I knew I had so much life, and work, ahead—and at the time I thought thatlife would include being happily-ever-after with Derek J. My romantic life up until thenhad been so grim, why not believe in a fairy tale? I couldn’t wait to fall into his arms withdivorce papers in hand. Finally!
Neither of us had wanted to cheapen our romance by cheating on my marriage. I knowplenty of women would’ve had sex on that roof in the rain, or in the villa on the beach. Itwould’ve been justified—they were such seductive situations, and my miserable70 marriagewas in ruins at best—but it wouldn’t have been right. I wanted to wait until it was right.
I’d waited all my life to really desire a man. It was worth waiting for it to be how I wantedit to be.
I’d had so many threatening experiences with men, and I had no real concept ofchoosing and being chosen on my own terms. I’d never been hungry for sex—not on mywedding night, not ever. I saved all my passion for my music. This time, Tommy wasright; I was inspired. It was so sensual—everything was so new and sweet, down to thesmooth texture of his honey-dipped skin. It was how it was supposed to feel. The monthsof anticipation had built an intensity71 I could not have manufactured. It was so heady, sointoxicating, and I was so vulnerable. I was in touch with a fire I didn’t know I had inside.
Derek confessed to me then that he was “in on” our divine dinner meeting. He hadapparently told several folks he wanted to meet me, including his contacts at Armani. Herevealed that he and a friend had had posters up on the wall in their bedrooms: his friend’swas of Alyssa Milano, and his was, you guessed it, of me. Apparently72, plenty of peoplewere aware he was a fan, long before we ever met.
“I had this plan,” he told me. “I was going to come to New York. I was going to get onthe Yankees. I was going to meet you, and I was going to steal you away from TonySony”—his name for Tommy—“and then we were going to get married.” My grin was amile wide. “Okay. I like that plan.” Only, he didn’t steal me from Tommy—I liberatedmyself.
There was nothing salacious about my relationship with Derek. Even on the night ofour consummation, when I slept over at his house in Tampa, his sister was there, sobasically it was an eighth- grade event. I remember waking up the next day,enthusiastically thinking, I’m going to make breakfast for him! just like in the movies. Itiptoed down to the kitchen with passion-tousled hair, wearing his oversized Yankeesjersey.
I looked in the refrigerator to find three lonely eggs and not much else. His sister foundme searching, and we laughed at my foiled rom-com plans. She was kind, and I related toher instantly. I didn’t know many mixed-race young women. She was beautiful, with anopen heart and an honest laugh.
His entire family moved me. All my life I had blamed the dysfunction in my family onrace, but meeting the Jeters dispelled73 this myth. My family’s brokenness was deeper thanBlack and white. This family was close in composition to mine but so different in actuality—they were close and loving. They interacted with each other as if they really knew, andcared for, one other. They were solid people, with a clear moral code. They held eachother up. And they were lovely to me, all of them. This was a powerful example: a Blackfather and a white mother existing as partners and parents. A sister and a brother who wereproud of each other, not enemies. Here was proof that a family that looked like mine couldbe unbroken. Perhaps that notion, that there could be a mixed family that was perfectlymatched, was the most lasting74 thing Derek gave me in our brief relationship. The image ofthe Jeter family gave me hope.
But Tampa was only a weekend wonderland, and I had to return to New York andButterfly. I had to prepare for the tour, which would be my most extensive to date. Acouple of my girlfriends who were excited to celebrate my emancipation75 from mymarriage to Tommy came to meet me, and we all flew back to NYC on a jet. It wasdifficult to leave what seemed like a dream, but I was also anxious to get back to work.
Derek gave me a little gold ankle bracelet76 and a giant stuffed puppy dog as going-awaypresents. Cute. I only had whatever short- skirt outfit77 I had worn to the DominicanRepublic, so he gave me one of his sweat suits to wear on the plane.
We arrived at the private airport where the jet and my girls were waiting. Derekopened the car door for me, and I stepped out into the Florida sun, cheeks flushed, lipsplump, hair still holding on to the morning’s frolicking. My large, dark Chanel sunglassesrested low on my nose, and my frame was drowned in his oversized sweatpants, whichwere rolled up at the cuff78 and down at the waistband, revealing my ankles and my navel. Ihad the sleeves of the jacket pushed up too, its wide bottom swinging in the wind, flappingaround the cropped top I wore underneath79. Balancing precariously80 in my six-inch mules81, Istruggled to manage the huge stuffed animal on one arm and my Louis Vuitton hobo bagon the other.
As I approached my girls, I could hear them shouting “Oooooooh, hel- lo!” Theyclaimed I was strutting82 down the tarmac like a cowboy in pointe shoes. We sippedchampagne and toasted to acquiring freedom papers and finally getting a shot of goodvitamin D. We giggled84 the entire flight back.
Derek was only the second person I had slept with ever (coincidentally, his numberwas 2 on the Yankees). Just like his position on the team, our relationship was a short stopin my life. It was a very critical transition for me, and maybe a dream come true, or maybean accomplishment85, for him. I don’t know. Very soon it became clear we weren’t meantfor the long run. For one, there’s a great gulf86 between athletes and artists, and honestly it’shard for two stars from any industry to make it work.
My time with Derek was a sweet and short dream, yet its impact lingered. I thoughtabout it from time to time for years after. Once, I was feeling intensely melancholy87 whilerecalling our short love affair to a friend. In my best Joan Crawford voice, I lamented,“The mother loved me! The sister loved me! The father loved me! It could have beenperfect!” There was so much energy surging through my body that the champagne83 glass Iwas holding completely shattered. I took that intensity and put it in “Crybaby.”
Late at night like a little child
Wanderin’ round alone in my new friend’s homeOn my tippy toes, so that he won’t know
I still cry baby over you and me
I don’t get no sleep
I’m up all week
Can’t stop thinking of you and me
And everything we used to be
It could have been so perfect
See, I cry. I cry. I cry.
Oh I gotta get me some sleep
—“Crybaby”
Let’s be honest, as an artist, I am the Queen of taking one morsel88 and making manymeals from it. I milked and mined my limited time with DJ for much more than it wasworth. My sixth studio album, Butterfly, was released into the world and has since soldmore than ten million copies.
Though our relationship was just a moment in my time line, Derek served a very highpurpose in my life. He was the catalyst89 I needed to get out from under Tommy’s cripplingcontrol and get in touch with my sensuality. And the intimacy of our shared racialexperience was major—to connect with a healthy family who looked like mine was veryinspiring. He was in the right place at the right time, and he was there for the rightpurpose.
DJ was a love in my life, not of my life. It was the idea of him, rather than the realityof him, that was so magnetic. In the end, I’ll chalk up our ending to the fact that wecouldn’t live up to each other’s fantasies. One can never compete with the fantasy. Youjust can’t. It’s like Marilyn used to say: “They go to bed with Marilyn Monroe, and theywake up with Norma Jeane.”
The hard way is the way I have learned the most. There is no “Dreamlover” coming torescue me and no Prince Charming or Joe DiMaggio to sweep me off my feet. I got sweptaway by a shortstop, but only God Almighty90 is my All.
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收听单词发音
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1
rendezvous
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| n.约会，约会地点，汇合点；vi.汇合，集合；vt.使汇合，使在汇合地点相遇 | |
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reign
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| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
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crumbling
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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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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obsessed
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| adj.心神不宁的,鬼迷心窍的,沉迷的 | |
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accurately
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| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
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anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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stylish
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| adj.流行的，时髦的；漂亮的，气派的 | |
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hop
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| n.单脚跳，跳跃；vi.单脚跳，跳跃；着手做某事；vt.跳跃，跃过 | |
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scour
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| v.搜索；擦，洗，腹泻，冲刷 | |
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thrift
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| adj.节约，节俭；n.节俭，节约 | |
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dismantling
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| （枪支）分解 | |
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upheaval
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| n.胀起，(地壳)的隆起；剧变，动乱 | |
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thoroughly
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recording
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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legitimate
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| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
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villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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villas
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| 别墅，公馆( villa的名词复数 )； （城郊）住宅 | |
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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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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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sneaking
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| a.秘密的，不公开的 | |
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maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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sleepless
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solitude
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paradigm
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coup
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technically
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| adv.专门地，技术上地 | |
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ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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vocals
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vocal
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| adj.直言不讳的；嗓音的；n.[pl.]声乐节目 | |
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previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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platinum
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maturity
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complexity
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narratives
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| 记叙文( narrative的名词复数 )； 故事； 叙述； 叙述部分 | |
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apprehensive
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| adj.担心的，恐惧的，善于领会的 | |
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lyrics
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| n.歌词 | |
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treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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elusive
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| adj.难以表达(捉摸)的；令人困惑的；逃避的 | |
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blatant
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| adj.厚颜无耻的；显眼的；炫耀的 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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blatantly
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| ad.公开地 | |
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fictional
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| adj.小说的，虚构的 | |
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poetically
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| adv.有诗意地，用韵文 | |
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embellished
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| v.美化( embellish的过去式和过去分词 )；装饰；修饰；润色 | |
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resistant
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| adj.(to)抵抗的，有抵抗力的 | |
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license
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| n.执照，许可证，特许；v.许可，特许 | |
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thriller
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| n.惊险片，恐怖片 | |
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gangster
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| n.匪徒，歹徒，暴徒 | |
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ridicule
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| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
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stereotypes
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| n.老套，模式化的见解，有老一套固定想法的人( stereotype的名词复数 )v.把…模式化，使成陈规( stereotype的第三人称单数 ) | |
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wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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restrictions
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| 约束( restriction的名词复数 )； 管制； 制约因素； 带限制性的条件（或规则） | |
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glamorous
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| adj.富有魅力的；美丽动人的；令人向往的 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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sequestered
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| adj.扣押的；隐退的；幽静的；偏僻的v.使隔绝，使隔离( sequester的过去式和过去分词 )；扣押 | |
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radius
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| n.半径，半径范围；有效航程，范围，界限 | |
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insanity
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| n.疯狂，精神错乱；极端的愚蠢，荒唐 | |
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toxicity
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| n.毒性，毒力 | |
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incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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texture
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| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
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grit
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| n.沙粒，决心，勇气；v.下定决心，咬紧牙关 | |
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tragically
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| adv. 悲剧地，悲惨地 | |
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stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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hopped
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| 跳上[下]( hop的过去式和过去分词 )； 单足蹦跳； 齐足（或双足）跳行； 摘葎草花 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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dispelled
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| v.驱散，赶跑( dispel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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lasting
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| adj.永久的，永恒的；vbl.持续，维持 | |
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emancipation
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| n.（从束缚、支配下）解放 | |
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bracelet
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| n.手镯，臂镯 | |
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outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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cuff
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| n.袖口；手铐；护腕；vt.用手铐铐；上袖口 | |
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underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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precariously
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| adv.不安全地；危险地；碰机会地；不稳定地 | |
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mules
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| 骡( mule的名词复数 )； 拖鞋； 顽固的人； 越境运毒者 | |
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strutting
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| 加固，支撑物 | |
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83
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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84
giggled
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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accomplishment
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| n.完成，成就，（pl.）造诣，技能 | |
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86
gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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morsel
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| n.一口，一点点 | |
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catalyst
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| n.催化剂，造成变化的人或事 | |
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almighty
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| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
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