pzb.drawingblood-第16节

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g　foul　greenish　slime；　of　beautiful　boys　fistfucking　by　the　light　of　a　rotten…cheese　moon。　It　didn't　make　her　happy；　but　it　helped。
　　Her　second　song　began。　The　Pixies'　〃No。　13　Baby。〃　She　glanced　over　at　the　DJ　booth　and　saw　Tommy　grimace　at　the　whining　voice　and　churning　psychedelic　guitar：　his　tastes　ran　more　to　bands　like　Triumph　and　Foreigner；　fake　corporate　metal；　maybe　a　little　Guns　N'　Roses　if　he　was　feeling　really　radical。
　　Miss　Lee　reached　back　to　unhook　her　bra　and　felt　a　bill　being　tucked　into　the　back　of　her　garter；　a　dry　hand　whispering　over　her　left　buttcheek　and　gone　before　she　could　turn　her　head。　She　caught　sight　of　the　customer　in　one　of　the　mirrors　that　ringed　the　stage。　A　tall　black　guy；　head　down；　already　disappearing　into　the　darkness　of　the　bar。　For　some　reason　the　black　men　who　liked　her　seemed　embarrassed　by　their　attraction。　Maybe　because　she　was　so　pale。
　　Surreptitiously　she　reached　around　and　palmed　the　bill；　slid　it　to　the　side　of　her　leg。　It　was　a　ten。　Jackpot。　That　pushed　her　over　the　hundred…dollar　mark；　good　money　for　the　day　shift：　she　could　actually　afford　to　go　home。
　　She　stared　at　her　reflection　receding　into　infinity　as　she　peeled　the　vinyl　top　away　from　her　small　firm　breasts。　A　thin　silver　chain　connected　them；　attached　to　delicate　rings　through　both　of　her　cafe…au…lait…colored　nipples。　The　rest　of　her　skin　was　a　pale　matte　almond；　ribs　showing　through　like　slats　in　a　shutter；　body　too　scrawny　except　for　her　rounded　shelf　of　a　butt　and　her　tiny　potbelly；　legs　muscled　from　six…hour　shifts　on　spike　heels　and　long　walks　through　the　French　Quarter。
　　Her　face　was　rather　flat；　her　wide　lips　unrouged…she　hated　the　way　she　looked　in　lipstick；　especially　the　greasy　pink…orange　stuff　most　of　the　other　dancers　smeared　on　their　mouths…and　her　dark　narrow　eyes　smudged　with　purple　shadow　and　black　mascara；　half　hidden　by　her　messy　platinum　wig。　〃Yew　got　the　most　beautiful　hair　Ah　ever　seen；〃　a　rube　tourist　had　once　told　her　reverently；　and　how　she　had　longed　to　whip　it　off　and　drop　it　in　his　lap。
　　Instead　she　had　smiled　sweetly　and　taken　his　money。
　　Third　song。　Prince's　〃Darling　Nikki；〃　a　small　concession　to　the　crowd；　give　'em　something　they've　heard　before。　And　it　was　a　dirty　song；　the　famous　dirty　song　that　had　kicked　off　the　PMRC's　entire　Crusade　Against　Dirty　Music；　or　whatever　it　was；　by　using　the　word　masturbating　in　its　lyrics。　Bless　it。　Miss　Lee　hooked　her　thumbs　into　the　elastic　of　her　G…string；　pulled　the　tiny　scrap　of　vinyl　tight　over　her　crotch；　so　that　the　folds　of　her　labia　were　all　but　outlined　in　shiny　black。　To　get　away　with　this　trick　she　had　to　shave　her　pubic　hair　to　the　approximate　size　and　shape　of　a　Band…Aid；　and　it　still　wasn't　enough；　they　always　wanted　to　see　more。
　　〃Pull　it　to　the　side；〃　some　old　fart　would　croak；　waving　a　dollar　in　her　face　as　if　it　were　worth　her　job。
　　〃Lemme　see　some　hair。〃
　　〃Hey；　are　you　a　natural　blonde？〃　That　line　was　always　good　for　a　snigger。
　　The　men　who　came　here　could　never　see　enough　of　her　body；　it　was　as　if　they　wanted　to　take　her　apart。　If　she　could　remove　her　G…string；　they'd　want　her　to　bend　over　and　spread　her　cheeks　so　they　could　look　up　her　twat。　If　she　could　do　that；　she　supposed；　they'd　want　her　to　unzip　her　skin　and　peel　it　off。
　　But　it　was　a　job　（though　precious　few　of　the　men　who　paid　her　salary　seemed　to　realize　that；　it　was　amazing　how　many　thought　the　dancers　did　this　to　meet　guys　or　get　erotic　thrills）。　It　allowed　her　to　set　her　own　schedule　and　paid　better　than　waiting　tables；　which　she　had　also　done；　dancing　was　much　less　demeaning。　People　saw　restaurant　workers　as　automatons；　extensions　of　the　tables　and　chairs；　fair　game　for　anything　from　tip…stiffing　to　verbal　abuse。
　　But　dancers；　especially　ones　with　any　kind　of　good　looks；　were　often　treated　like　the　epitome　of　unattainable　goddess…hood。　Even　in　a　joint　like　the　Pink　Diamond；　the　men　were　crude　and　gross　and　often　infuriating；　but　hardly　ever　flat…out　mean。　And　if　they　were；　the　dancers　could　have　them　kicked　out。　Some　girls　tried　to　get　customers　thrown　out　just　for　making　raunchy　remarks。　Miss　Lee　thought　this　was　stupid。　Men　who　made　such　remarks　were　usually　drunk；　and　drunk　men　usually　tipped　better。　And　she　couldn't　help　pondering　the　morality　of　girls　who　shook　their　tits　in　the　face　of　any　guy　with　a　dollar　to　his　name；　but　blanched　when　they　heard　the　word　pussy。
　　It　was　an　okay　job；　but　she　wouldn't　mind　winning　the　sweepstakes　tomorrow。
　　She　sank　to　the　stage　in　a　modified　split　that　set　them　peering　at　her　crotch　in　the　eternal　Quest　to　See　Hair；　collected　a　few　more　dollars；　and　disappeared　behind　the　curtain　as　the　last　strains　of　〃Darling　Nikki〃　died。　She　and　the　next　dancer；　a　tall　muscular　girl　with　bleached…blond　hair　and　smooth　ebony　skin　who　called　herself　Baby　Doll；　groped　their　way　past　each　other　in　the　cramped　coffinlike　area。　〃How　are　they？〃　Baby　Doll　whispered。
　　Miss　Lee　shrugged。　〃Not　great。〃
　　〃Honey；　they're　never　great。〃　Miss　Lee　laughed。　Baby　Doll　dabbed　at　her　liberally　applied　pinky…orange　lipstick；　hoisted　her　heavy　breasts　so　that　they　rode　high　and　round　in　the　D…cups　of　her　red　sequined　halter　top；　and　ducked　onstage　as　Tommy　botched　the　lead…in　to　her　first　song。
　　Miss　Lee　walked　down　a　short　shabby　corridor　to　the　dressing　room。　The　heels　of　her　boots　dug　into　the　bare　concrete　floor　and　sent　bolts　of　agony　up　her　calves。　Boots　were　more　fortable　than　the　pumps　most　girls　wore；　since　they　gave　her　ankles　some　support；　but　at　the　end　of　a　shift　she　could　still　feel　every　step　she　had　taken　on　those　four…inch　spikes。
　　She　tugged　them　off　as　soon　as　she　hit　the　dressing　room；　collected　the　sweaty　dollars　stuffed　into　her　garter　and　her　G…string；　peeled　off　both；　and　dove　into　her　bag　for　street　clothes。　An　oversize　black　Ministry　shirt；　a　pair　of　cutoffs；　and　her　Converse　All…Stars；　one　black；　one　purple；　safety…pinned　and　scribbled　upon；　she　had　another　pair　just　like　it　at　home。　After　six　hours　on　high　heels；　there　was　nothing　more　forting　than　shoving　your　sore　toes　into　a　pair　of　soft；　sloppy　sneakers。
　　She　stopped　by　the　DJ　booth　to　tip　out…don't　spend　it　all　in　one　place；　Tommy；　sniffle　snort…and　cut　through　the　club。　A　blubbery　redneck　she'd　table…danced　for　earlier　tried　to　wave　her　over；　but　she　stared　right　through　him　and　kept　heading　for　the　door。　Once　she　was　done；　she　was　done。
　　Just　outside　the　door　she　stopped；　whipped　off　the　platinum　wig；　and　stuffed　it　into　her　bag。　Her　hair　underneath　was　black；　buzzed　nearly　to　the　scalp　except　for　wispy　bangs　that　fell　over　her　face　and　a　few　long　skinny　braids　sprouting　here　and　there。　One　of　her　small　ears　was　pierced　with　thirteen　silver　hoops　beginning　at　the　lobe　and　curling　gracefully　up　around　the　delicate　rim。　From　the　other　dangled　a　single　cross　with　a　tiny　ruby…eyed　skull　at　its　juncture。
　　She　ran　her　hand　through　her　buzz　cut　and　breathed　in　the　twilight　air　of　the　French　Quarter　and　let　Miss　Lee　go　for　another　night。　She　was　Eddy　Sung　now；　and　her　evenings　were　her　own。
　　The　gas　lamps　were　just　beginning　to　e　on；　their　soft　yellow　glow　flickering　on　every　corner。　She　thought　of　stopping　off　for　a　beer　and　a　dozen　oysters　on　the　half…shell　somewhere。　The　salty；　briny　flavor　of　them　always　drove　the　taste　of　a　day's　false　smiles　out　of　her　mouth。　But　no；　she　decided；　she　would　go　home　and　check　her　mail　and　her　messages；　and　then　maybe　she　would　call　Zachary　and　see　if　he　wanted　to　go　eat　oysters。　They　were　supposed　to　be　an　aphrodisiac；　maybe　they'd　work　on　him。
　　Ha。　She　should　be　so　lucky。
　　Eddy　allowed　herself　a　rueful　little　laugh　and　set　off　through　the　Quarter　for　home。
　　　
　　　
　　　Chapter　Five
　　
　　Zach　was　already　throwing　the　last　of　his　movable　belongings　into　his　car　when　Eddy　arrived。　She　had　run　all　the　way　from　her　apartment　on　St。　Philip　after　hearing　his　message　on　her　answering　machine；　and　her　face　was　flushed　and　sweaty；　her　breath　ing　in　harsh　shallow　gasps。
　　But　Zach　looked　worse。　His　green　eyes　had　a　feverish　sheen。　Beneath　a　ridiculous　black　bad…cowboy　hat　she　hadn't　seen　before；　his　peaked　pale　face　was　nearly　luminescent　in　the　gaslit　gloom　of　little　Rue　Madison。　He　crammed　a　box　of　papers　into　the　back　seat　of　his　Mustang；　turned　to　grab　another　box；　and　saw　Eddy。　His　face　froze。　For　an　instant　he　looked　terrified。　Then　he　stumbled　toward　her　and　threw　his　arms　around　her。　Her　heart　broke　a　little；　but　Eddy　was　used　to　this；　it　happened　every　time　she　saw　Zach。
　　〃They　got　you？〃
　　He　nodded。　The　words　I　told　you　so　hung　in　the　air；　but　she　would　not　dream　of　speaking　them。
　　〃How　bad？〃
　　〃The　warning　said　They　know　who　you　are；　They　know　where　you　are。　I　don't　think　They　really　know　where　I　am　yet　or　They'd　be　here。　But　They　could　be　finding　out　right　now。　They　could　show　up　anytime。〃
　　Eddy　glanced　nervously　back　toward　Chartres　Street。　Except　for　an　occasional　ripple　of　street　jazz　or　burst　of　drunken　laughter；　all　was　quiet。
　　〃I'm　taking　the　incriminating　stuff　with　me。　The　puters；　my　disks；　my　notebooks。　The　place　will　be　clean　if　you　want　to　move　in。　If　They　show　up　and　want　to　search；　let　'em　search。　They　won't　find　a　damn　t