gossip girl 4 英文-第22章

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floors；　like　Cinderella。　？Your　poem　saved　my　life；？　she　confided　to　Dan　in　a　low；　husky　voice。　A　
tall；　narrow　glass　of　something　bright　red　was　wedged　into　her　frail　hand。　？It？s　Campari；？　she　said　
when　she　noticed　him　looking　at　it。　？Want　a　taste？？　

Dan　never　drank　anything　that　wasn？t　caffeinated。　He　shook　his　head　no　and　tucked　his　black　
notebook　under　his　arm。　Then　he　lit　a　Camel　and　took　a　long　drag。　There；　that　was　much　better。　
Now　at　least　he？d　have　something　to　do；　even　if　he　couldn？t　think　of　anything　to　say。　？So；　are　you　
a　poet；　too？？　he　asked。　

Mystery　stuck　her　thumb　into　her　drink　and　then　licked　it　off。　The　corners　of　her　mouth　were　
stained　red　with　Campari；　making　her　look　like　a　little　girl　who？d　just　eaten　a　cherry　Popsicle。　？I　
write　poems　and　short　stories。　And　I？m　working　on　a　novel　about　cremation　and　premature　death。　
Rusty　says　I？m　the　next　Sylvia　Plath；？　she　answered。　？What　about　you？？　

Dan　sipped　his　drink。　He　wasn？t　sure　what　she　meant　by　premature　death。　Was　there　ever　a　right　
time　to　die？　He　wondered　if　he　should　write　a　poem　about　it；　but　then　again；　he　didn？t　want　to　
steal　Mystery？s　material。　？I？m　supposed　to　be　the　next　Keats。？　

Mystery　dunked　her　thumb　into　her　drink　again　and　then　licked　it　off。　？What？s　your　favorite　
verb？？　

Dan　took　another　drag　off　his　cigarette　and　blew　smoke　into　the　crowded；　noisy　room。　He　wasn？t　
sure　if　it　was　the　club；　or　the　music；　or　the　caffeine；　or　the　taurine；　but　he　felt　so　alive　andso　good　
at　that　very　moment；　talking　about　words　with　this　girl　named　Mystery　whose　life　he　had　saved。　
He　was　seriously　digging　it。　

？Dying；　I　guess；？　he　answered；　finishing　his　drink　and　setting　the　empty　glass　down　on　the　
floor。　？The　verbto　die　。？　He　knew　it　must　have　sounded　like　he　was　trying　to　impress　her。　After　all；　
she　was　writing　a　book　about　premature　death　and　cremation。　But　it　was　the　truth。　Almost　all　of　
his　poems　really　were　about　dying。　Dying　of　love；　dying　of　anger；　dying　of　boredom；　of　anxiety；　
falling　asleep　and　never　waking　up。　

Mystery　smiled。　？Me　too。？　Her　gray　eyes　and　long；　thin　face　were　starkly　beautiful；　but　her　front　
teeth　were　crooked　and　yellow；　like　she？d　never　been　to　the　dentist　in　her　entire　life。　She　snagged　
another　Red　Bull　cocktail　from　a　waiter？s　tray　and　handed　it　to　Dan。　？Rusty　says　poets　are　the　
next　movie　stars。　One　day　we？ll　both　be　riding　around　in　limos　with　our　bodyguards。？　She　sighed　
heavily。　？As　if　that　will　make　life　any　easier。？　She　raised　her　glass　and　clinked　it　against　his。　？To　
poetry；？　she　announced　grimly。　Then　she　grabbed　the　back　of　Dan？s　head　and　pulled　him　toward　
her；　crushing　his　lips　in　a　deep；　Campari…soaked　kiss。　

Dan　knew　he　should　have　thrown　Mystery　off；　protesting　that　he　had　a　girlfriend；　that　he　was　in　
love。　He　shouldn？t　have　enjoyed　being　hit　on　by　a　strange；　practically　naked　girl　with　yellow　teeth。　
But　Mystery？s　lips　tasted　sweet　and　sour　at　the　same　time　and　he　wanted　to　understand　why　she　


was　so　sad　and　so　tired。　He　wanted　todiscover　her；　the　way　he　sometimes　discovered　the　perfect　
metaphor　when　he　was　in　the　middle　of　writing　a　poem；　and　to　do　that　he　had　to　keep　kissing　her。　

？What？s　your　favorite　noun？？　he　breathed　into　her　ear　when　he　came　up　for　air。　

？Sex；？　she　answered；　diving　for　his　lips　again。　

Dan　grinned　as　he　kissed　her　back。　

It　might　have　been　the　taurine；　but　sometimes　it　just　feels　good　to　be　bad。　

the　girl　behind　the　camera　

？So　you？re　the　one。？　A　beautiful；　tanned；　blond　dude　dressed　in　baggy　orange　surf　shorts；　white　
leather　Birkenstock　clogs；　and　a　brown…and…white　pony　fur　vest　with　nothing　on　underneath　
smiled　at　Vanessa　with　glistening　white　teeth。　His　name　was　Dork　or　Duke　or　something　and　he　
claimed　to　be　a　producer。　？The　genius　filmmaker。？　

？She？s　the　next　Bertolucci；？　Ken　Mogul　corrected　Duke；　or　whatever　his　name　was。　？Give　me　a　
year　and　she？s　going　to　be　a　household　name。？　Ken　was　dressed　like　an　urban　cowboy　in　a　silver　
Culture　of　Humanity　down　vest　over　a　black　Western…style　shirt　with　pearly　white　snaps　instead　of　
buttons。　His　curly　red　hair　was　tucked　into　a　black　Stetson　hat；　and　he　was　even　wearing　black　
cowboy　boots　with　his　Culture　of　Humanity　boot…cut　jeans。　He？d　flown　into　New　York　that　night　
from　Utah；　where　his　most　recent　film　had　just　been　introduced　at　the　Sundance　Film　Festival。　It　
was　an　ambitious　piece　about　a　deaf　and　mute　man　who　worked　in　a　cannery　in　Alaska　and　lived　
in　a　trailer　with　thirty…six　cats。　The　man　didn？t　talk　and　spent　a　lot　of　time　at　his　puter　
e…mailing　girls　on　singles　Web　sites；　so　Ken　had　had　to　be　extremely　creative　with　the　camera　to　
keep　the　action　going。　It　was　his　finest　work　yet。　

？Dude；　watching　your　film　was　like　being　born　again；？　Dork　told　Vanessa。　？It　made　my　day。？　

The　corners　of　Vanessa？s　mouth　turned　up　in　a　half…bored；　half…amused　Mona　Lisa　smile。　She　
wasn？t　sure　how　she　felt　about　being　called　？dude；？　but　she　was　glad　she？d　made　Dork？s　day。　

The　Culture　of　Humanity　by　Jedediah　Angel　after…party　was　an　even　bigger　deal　than　the　fashion　
show　itself。　Highway　1　had　been　decorated　like　a　Hindu　wedding　tent；　and　bikini…clad　models　who　
hadn？t　even　been　in　the　show　were　lounging　on　leather　sofas；　drinking　saffron　martinis。　or　
dancing　to　the　live　bhangra　music。　Vanessa　tugged　on　her　tight　red　top。　It　was　kind　of　hard　not　to　
feel　like　a　porker　around　so　many　bony；　seven…foot…tall　models。　

？Okay。　Here？s　the　guy　fromEntertainment　Weekly　；？　Ken　Mogul　said；　wrapping　his　arm　around　


her　waist。　？Smile；　it？s　a　photo　op！？　

Duke　stood　on　the　other　side　of　Vanessa　and　pressed　his　tanned；　angular　cheek　against　her　soft；　
pale　one。　He　smelled　like　Coppertone。　？Say　salami！？　

It　was　Vanessa？s　policynot　to　smile　when　she　was　being　forced　to　have　her　picture　taken；　but　
why　not？　There　really　wasn？t　any　danger　that　she？d　get　swept　up　in　the　glow；　marry　Duke　in　the　
Temple　of　Surf　and　Sand；　and　live　cheesily　ever　after　in　a　surf　shack？cum？film　studio　on　the　
beach　in　Malibu。　She　was　too　hard…core　New　York　for　that；　and　besides；　she　hated　the　beach。　No；　
tonight　would　be　her　one　night　of　cheese　and　then　tomorrow　she？d　go　back　to　being　normal　again。　

？Salami！？　all　three　of　them　cried；　flashing　their　cheesiest　smiles　for　the　camera。　

Duke　stayed　close　to　Vanessa？s　side　after　the　photographer　left。　？What　hotel　are　you　staying　at？？　
he　asked；　assuming　she　was　from　LA；　just　like　everyone　else　he　knew。　

Vanessa　unscrewed　the　cap　on　her　bottle　of　Evian　and　took　a　swig。　？Actually；　I　live　here　in　New　
York；　in　Williamsburg；　with　my　sister。　I？m　still　in　high　school。　She　plays　in　a　band。？　

Dork　looked　excited。　？Dude！？　he　cried。　？You？re　like　one　of　those　people　screenwriters　make　up；　
you　know？？　He　lifted　his　fingers　to　make　quotations　in　the　air；　？An　？urban　hipster。？　Except　
you？rereal　。　You？re　realer　than　real。　You？re　dyno…mite！？　

For　a　guy　called　Dork；　he　was　actually　pretty　insightful。　

？Thanks；？　Vanessa　said；　unsure　whether　that　was　the　correct　response　or　not。　She？d　never　had　a　
conversation　with　someone　so　stupid　before。　She　felt　a　hand　on　her　elbow　and　she　turned　around。　

A　frail　older　man　wearing　a　purple　velvet　smoking　jacket　and　round　black　glasses　smiled　up　at　
her。　？You？re　the　film…maker；　right？？　he　asked。　

Vanessa　nodded。　？I　guess。？　

The　old　man　waggled　a　bony　finger　at　her。　？Don？t　take　your　gift　too　seriously；？　he　said　before　
wandering　away。　

Duke　bent　down　and　spoke　urgently　into　her　ear。　？I？m　staying　at　the　Hudson。　Wanna　go　back　to　
my　room　for　a　drink　or　something？？　

Vanessa　knew　she　should　have　told　him　to　fuck　off；　but　she？d　never　been　hit　on　by　a　gorgeous；　
dumb　surfer　dude　who　could　have　hit　on　any　one　of　the　models　in　the　room　but　had　chosen　to　hit　
on　her　instead。　It　was　really　kind　of　flattering。　And　hadn？t　that　old　guy　just　told　her　not　to　take　
things　too　seriously？　Thank　God　she？d　gone　to　all　the　trouble　to　remove　the　hair　on　her　
legs。　？Maybe　later；？　she　replied；　not　wanting　to　shut　Dork　down　pletely。　？It？s　kind　of　snowy　


out　right　now。？　

？Right；　duh。？　Duke　slapped　himself　on　the　head　with　a　goofy　laugh。　？Want　to　dance　instead？？　He　
h