thunter.fearloathinglasvegas-第17部分

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ife　was　crying；　the　gaggle　of　friends　that　he'd　mustered　for　support　were　too　embarrassed　to　back　him　up…even　now；　in　this　showdown　at　the　desk；　with　this　angry　little　cop　firing　his　best　and　final　shot。　They　knew　he　was　beaten；　he　was　going　against　the　RULES；　and　the　people　hired　to　enforce　those　rules　said　〃no　vacancy。
　　After　ten　minutes　of　standing　in　line　behind　this　noisy　little　asshole　and　his　friends；　I　felt　the　bile　rising。　Where　did　this　cop…of　all　people…get　the　nerve　to　argue　with　anybody　in　terms　of　Right　&　Reason？　I　had　been　there　with　these　fuzzy　shitheads…and　so；　I　sensed；　had　the　desk　clerk。　He　had　airof　a　man　who'd　been　fucked　around；　in　his　time；　by　a　good　cross…section　of　mean…tempered　rule…crazy　now　he　was　just　giving　their　argument　back　to　them：　It　didn't　matter　who's　right　or　wrong；　man。。。or　who's　paid　&　who　hasn't。。。what　matters　right　now　is　that　for　at　time　in　my　life　I　can　work　out　on　a　pig：　〃Fuck　you；　I'm　in　charge　here；　and　I'm　telling　you　we　don't　have　for　you。〃　I　was　enjoying　this　whipsong；　but　after　a　while　I　felt　dizzy；　nervous；　and　my　impatience　got　the　better　of　my　amusement。　So　I　stepped　around　the　Pig　and　spoke　directly　to　the　desk　clerk…〃Say；〃　I　said；　〃I　hate　to　interrupt；　but　I　have　a　reservation　and　I　wonder　if　maybe　I　could　just　sort　of　slide　through　and　get　out　of　your　way。〃　I　smiled；　letting　him　know　I'd　been　digging　his　snake…bully　act　on　the　cop　party　that　was　now　standing　there；　psychologically　off…balance　and　staring　at　me　like　I　was　some　kind　of　water…rat　crawling　up　to　the　desk。
　　I　looked　pretty　bad：　wearing　old　Levis　and　white　Chuck　Taylor　All…Star　basketball　sneakers。。。and　my　ten…peso　Acapulco　shirt　had　long　since　e　apart　at　the　shoulder　seams　from　all　that　road…wind。　My　beard　was　about　three　days　old；　bordering　on　standard　wino　trim；　and　my　eyes　were　totally　hidden　by　Sandy　Bull's　Saigon…mirror　shades。
　　But　my　voice　had　the　tone　of　a　man　who　knows　he　has　a　reservation。　I　was　gambling　on　my　attorney's　foresightbut　I　couldn't　pass　a　chance　to　put　the　horn　into　a　cop：and　I　was　right。　The　reservation　was　in　my　attorney's　name。　The　desk　…　clerk　hit　his　bell　to　summon　the　bag…boy。　〃This　is　all　I　have　with　me；　right　now；〃　I　said；　〃The　rest　is　out　there　in　that　white　Cadillac　convertible。〃　I　pointed　to　the　car　that　we　could　all　see　parked　just　outside　the　front　door。　〃Can　you　have　somebody　drive　it　around　to　the　room？〃　The　desk…clerk　was　friendly。　〃Don't　worry　about　a　thing；　sir。　Just　enjoy　your　stay　here…and　if　there's　anything　you　need；　just　call　the　desk。〃　I　nodded　and　smiled；　half…watching　the　stunned　reaction　of　the　cop…crowd　right　next　to　me。　They　were　stupid　with　shock。　Here　they　were　arguing　with　every　piece　of　leverage　they　could　mand；　for　a　room　they'd　already　paid　for…and　suddenly　their　whole　act　gets　side…swiped　by　some　crusty　drifter　who　looks　like　something　out　of　an　upper…Michigan　hobo　jungle。　And　he　checks　in　with　a　handful　of　credit　cards！　Jesus！　What's　happening　in　this　world？
　　
　　　3。　Savage　Lucy。。。〃Teeth　Like　Baseballs；　Eyes　Like　Jellied　Fire〃
　　
　　I　gave　my　bag　to　the　boy　who　scurried　up；　and　told　him　to　bring　a　quart　of　Wild　Turkey　and　two　fifths　of　Bacardi　Anejo　with　a　night's　worth　of　ice。
　　Our　room　was　in　one　of　the　farthest　wings　of　the　Flamingo。　The　place　is　far　more　than　a　hotel：　It　is　a　sort　of　huge　underfinanced　Playboy　Club　in　the　middle　of　the　desert。　Something　like　nine　separate　wings；　with　interconnecting　causeways　and　pools…a　vast　plex；　sliced　up　by　a　maze　of　car…ramps　and　driveways。　It　took　me　about　twenty　minutes　to　wander　from　the　desk　to　the　distant　wing　we'd　been　assigned　to。
　　My　idea　was　to　get　into　the　room；　accept　the　booze　and　baggage　delivery；　then　smoke　my　last　big　chunk　of　Singapore　Grey　while　watching　Walter　Cronkite　and　waiting　for　my　attorney　to　arrive。　I　needed　this　break；　this　moment　of　peace　and　refuge；　before　we　did　the　Drug　Conference。　It　was　going　to　be　quite　a　different　thing　from　the　Mint　400。　That　had　been　observer　gig；　but　this　one　would　need　participation…and　a　special　stance：　At　the　Mint　400　we　were　dealing　with　anessentially　simpatico　crowd；　and　if　our　behavior　was　gross　outrageous。。。well；　it　was　only　a　matter　of　degree。this　time　our　very　presence　would　be　an　outrage。　We　be　attending　the　conference　under　false　pretenses　and　from　the　start；　with　a　crowd　that　was　convened　for　d　purpose　of　putting　people　like　us　in　jail。　We　were　the　Menace…not　in　disguise；　but　stone…obvious　drug　abusers；　with　a　flagrantly　cranked…up　act　that　we　intended　to　push　all　the　way　to　the　limit。。。not　to　prove　any　final；　sociological　point；　and　not　even　as　a　conscious　mockery：　It　was　mainly　a　matter　of　life…style；　a　sense　of　obligation　and　even　duty。　If　the　Pigs　were　gathering　in　Vegas　for　a　top…level　Drug　Conference；　we　felt　the　drug　culture　should　be　represented。
　　Beyond　that；　I'd　been　out；　of　my　head　for　so　long　now；　that　a　gig　like　this　seemed　perfectly　logical。　Considering　the　circumstances；　I　felt　totally　meshed　with　my　karma。
　　
　　Or　at　least　I　was　feeling　this　way　until　I　got　to　the　big　grey　door　that　opened　into　Mini…Suite　1150　in　the　Far　Wing。　I　rammed　my　key　into　the　knob…lock　and　swung　the　door　open；　thinking；　〃Ah；　home　at　last！〃。。。but　the　door　hit　something；　which　I　recognized　at　once　as　a　human　form：　a　girl　of　indeterminate　age　with　the　face　and　form　of　a　Pit　Bull。　She　was　wearing　a　shapeless　blue　smock　and　her　eyes　were　angry。。。
　　Somehow　I　knew　that　I　had　the　right　room。　I　wanted　to　think　otherwise；　but　the　vibes　were　hopelessly　right。。。and　she　seemed　to　know；　too；　because　she　made　no　move　to　stop　me　when　I　moved　past　her　and　into　the　suite。　I　tossed　my　leather　satchel　on　one　of　the　beds　and　looked　around　for　what　I　knew　I　would　see。。。my　attorney　。。　。　stark　naked；　standing　in　the　bathroom　door　with　a　drug…addled　grin　on　his　face。
　　〃You　degenerate　pig；〃　I　muttered。
　　〃It　can't　be　helped；〃　he　said；　nodding　at　the　bulldog　girl。　〃This　is　Lucy。〃　He　laughed　distractedly。　〃You　know…like　Lucy　in　the　sky　with　diamonds　。　。
　　I　nodded　to　Lucy；　who　was　eyeing　me　with　definite　venom。　I　was　clearly　some　kind　of　enemy；　some　ugly　intrusion　on　her　scene。。。and　it　was　clear　from　the　way　she　moved　around　the　room；　very　quick　and　tense　on　her　feet；　that　she　was　sizing　me　up。　She　was　ready　for　violence；there　was　not　much　doubt　about　that。　Even　my　attorney　picked　up　on　it。
　　〃Lucy！〃　he　snapped。　〃Lucy！　Be　cool；　goddamnit！　Remember　what　happened　at　the　airport。。。no　more　of　that；　OK？〃　He　smiled　nervously　at　her。　She　had　the　look　of　a　beast　that　had　just　been　tossed　into　a　sawdust　pit　to　fight　for　its　life　。　。　。　〃Lucy　。　。。　this　is　my　client；　this　is　Mister　Duke；　the　famous　journalist。　He's　pairing　for　this　suite；　Lucy。　He's　on　our　side。〃　She　said　nothing。　I　could　see　that　she　was　not　entirely　in　control　of　herself。　Huge　shoulders　on　the　woman；　and　a　chin　like　Oscar　Bonavena。　I　sat　down　on　the　bed　and　casually　reached　into　my　satchel　for　the　Mace　can。。。and　when　I　felt　my　tumb　on　the　Shoot　button　I　was　tempted　to　jerk　the　thing　out　and　soak　her　down　on　general　principles；　I　desperately　needed　peace；　rest；　sanctuary。　The　last　thing　I　wanted　was　a　fight　to　the　finish；　in　my　own　hotel　room；　with　some　kind　of　drug…crazed　hormone　monster。
　　My　attorney　seemed　to　understand　this；　he　knew　why　my　hand　was　in　the　satchel。
　　〃No！〃　he　shouted。　〃Not　here！　We'll　have　to　move　out！〃　I　shrugged。　He　was　twisted。　I　could　see　that。　And　so　was　Lucy。　Her　eyes　were　feverish　and　crazy。　She　was　staring　at　me　like　I　was　something　that　would　have　to　be　rendered　helpless　before　life　could　get　back　to　whatever　she　considered　normal。
　　My　attorney　idled　over　and　put　his　arm　around　her　shoulders。　〃Mister　Duke　is　my　friend；〃　he　said　gently。　〃He　lovesartists。　Let's　show　him　your　paintings。〃　For　the　first　time；　I　noticed　that　the　room　was　full　of　artwork…maybe　forty　or　fifty　portraits；　some　in　oil；　some　charcoal；　all　more　or　less　the　same　size　and　all　the　same　face。　They　were　propped　up　on　every　flat　surface。　The　face　was　vaguely　familiar；　but　I　couldn't　get　a　fix　on　it。　It　was　a　girl　with　a　mouth；　a　big　nose　and　extremely　glittering　eyes…a　demonically　sensual　face；　the　kind　of　overstated；　embarrassingly　dramatic　renderings　that　you　find　in　the　bedrooms　of　young　female　art　students　who　get　hung　up　on　horses。
　　'Lucy　paints　portraits　of　Barbra　Streisand；〃　my　attorney　explained。　〃She's　an　artist　up　in　Montana。。　。〃　He　turned　to　the　girl。　〃What's　that　town　where　you　live？〃　She　stared　at　him；　then　at　me；　then　back　at　my　attorney　again。　Then　finally　she　said；　〃Kalispel。　Way　up　north。　I　drew　these　from　TV。〃　My　attorney　nodded　eagerly。　〃Fantastic；〃　he　said。　〃She　came　all　the　way　down　here　just　to　give　all　these　portraits　to　Barbra。　We're　going　over　to　the　Americana　Hotel　tonight；　and　meet　her　backstage。〃　Lucy　smiled　bashfully。　There　was　no　more　hostility　in　her。　I　dropped　the　Mace　can　and　stood　up。　We　obviously　had　a　serious　case　on　our　hands。　I　hadn't　counted　on　this：　Finding　my　attorney　whacked　on　acid　and　locked　into　some　kind　of　preternatural　courtship。
　　〃Well；〃　I　said；　〃I　guess　they've　brought　the　car　around　by　now。　Let's　get　the　stuff　out　of　the　trunk。〃　He　nodded　eagerly。　〃Absolutely；　let's　get　the　stuff。〃　Hesmiled　at　Lucy。　〃We'll　be　right　b