Chapter 9 Chapter 5 Crickets · 2

8 Thursday morning, about half past eleven.Rossi took a sip of water, held it in his mouth for a while, and swallowed slowly.She then picked up the lines again. "She would have come anyway; this time it wasn't his ears playing tricks on him. Peterson could hear the clatter of high heels in the hallway, and he could picture her rummaging through her open purse for the key, worried that there would be a devil chasing after him, and even more afraid of the ghost that had been waiting in the room for a long time. After making sure that the knife was still in his hand, he put the long nylon hair on his head. When her key began to slip through the lock At the sound, Peterson raised the knife—"

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" Rhoda shouted impatiently from the microphone. Rosie looked up at her through the glass wall and said: She didn't like the way Kurt Hamilton sat at the console watching her with his earphones on his collarbone, but what surprised her was Rhoda actually ignored the "No Smoking" warning on the wall, and was smoking a long thin women's cigarette in the control room.Everything seemed to be going wrong for Rhoda this morning, and she wasn't alone. "Rhoda, is there something wrong with me?" "Where did you come up with the phrase 'put long nylon hair over your head'?" Rhoda flicked the soot out of a Styrofoam cup on the control panel.

At first Rosie had no idea what she was talking about.She repeated the last two lines silently in her heart, and then moaned suddenly: "My God, Rhoda, it should be nylon stockings. I'm so sorry." Kurt put the headset back into his ear and pressed a button at the same time. "Murder the future, ready to record the seventy-third time..." Rhoda put her hand on his arm and said something to him, and Rosie felt as if ice water filled her stomach. "Don't worry about it." She saw Rosie's frustration through the glass and smiled at her, a pale but happy smile. "Rosie, everything is normal, lunch is half an hour early today, you can come out now."

Due to standing too hastily, Rossi's left leg accidentally touched the corner of the table, almost knocking over the mineral water on the table.She hurried out of the studio. Rhoda and Kurt stood in the outer room, and Rosie was almost sure, no, she was absolutely sure they were talking about her. Rosie, if you really believe this, you probably should see a doctor.Reason cried out again in a sharp voice.Rossi never listened to its advice, but this time he took it very seriously. "I can do better," she told Rhoda. "I'll do what I say, and I swear to God, this afternoon will be better than it is."

is this real?Hell, she didn't know it, she'd been trying all morning, just as she had been recording "Octopus," to completely bury herself in "Murder the Future," and it was all pretty much in vain.Since last night, she has entered the world of Alma St. George, a female doctor adored and wooed by the psychotic Peterson.She was suddenly dragged out by a jumble of voices: first Anna told her on the phone that her ex-husband, the man who sent her to the sisters' home, had been murdered; then Bill asked her, bewildered What happened; last and worst, were her own words to Bill, telling him to stay away from her.

Kurt patted her on the shoulder. "Your voice isn't great today," he said. "It's like getting your hair done wrong, or worse. That sort of thing happens in record companies. Right, Rhoda?" "Of course." When Rhoda replied, he never took his eyes off Rosie's face.Rossi knew exactly what Rhoda was looking at.She only got two or three hours of sleep last night, and she didn't use the energizing make-up that conceals the signs of sleep deprivation. And even if I want to adorn myself with those things, I don't know how to use them. She had taken some basic classes in makeup in high school, which is ironic, learning makeup at an age in her life when she least needed it.Since marrying Norman, she has only worn a little powder and a lipstick or two of the closest natural shade.Norman once told her that if I had been too tempted, I would have married someone else.

She thought that Rhoda might be studying her eyes carefully: the reddened lids, the bloodshot whites, and the dark circles.After turning off the lights last night, she lay in the dark and wept bitterly for more than an hour. Her tears dried up, but she never fell asleep.She tried not to think about it, but still couldn't help thinking about it.As the night wore on, a truly dire conclusion came to her mind: calling Bill had been a grave mistake, and she should never have kept him away when she needed his comfort and protection most. Protect?she thinks.Oh boy, this is ridiculous.I know you like him, baby, and there's nothing wrong with that, but let's face it: Norman will eat him for lunch.

She couldn't be sure that Norman had come to the city.Anna never tires of emphasizing that Peter Slovik has sponsored several causes, not all of which are well known.It's also possible that something else got him into trouble...so much so that he was killed. Unless Rosie's mind is blind to the matter.But she could feel it, it was Norman's doing. Hours passed, and the voice continued to whisper in her ear.Does her heart know?Had a deep-seated fear used Anna's calls to force her to give up before her friendship with Bill had progressed? she does not know.But the thought of seeing him no longer pained her and frightened her, as if a piece of equipment had lost its most important part.Of course, it is impossible for a person to have such a strong sense of dependence on another person in such a short period of time, but why does she panic when she thinks that she will never see him again, and has the feeling that her life is about to dry up?How should this be explained?

When she finally fell asleep, she dreamed of riding on the back of his motorcycle, wearing a rose red skirt like Rose Maid, with her legs wrapped around his hips.Not long after she fell asleep, the alarm clock rang. She had difficulty breathing, and she was hot all over, and she looked like she had a high fever. "Rosie, are you all right?" Rhoda asked her. "It's nothing, it's just..." She glanced at Kurt, then looked back at Rhoda.She shrugged her shoulders, turned the corners of her mouth to the sides, and smiled helplessly. "Look, this is the hardest day of the month for me."

"Oh," Rhoda looked unconvinced, "Okay, let's find a coffee shop or a small restaurant, and bury our troubles in tuna salad and strawberry milkshake." "Well said," said Kurt, "my treat." This time Rosie laughed convincingly, but she shook her head anyway. "I'm not going. I just want to go for a walk alone and let the wind blow the dust off my face." "If you don't eat, you'll pass out before you get off work," Rhoda said. "Then I'll have a salad. I promise." Rosie had already started walking towards the old, battered elevator hall. "Don't order too much, I'm afraid that if you burp, it will spoil everyone's good appetite."

"Today is no different from the past." Rhoda said, "How about we start at a quarter past twelve?" "Okay," she said.Until the elevator staggered from the fourth floor to the first floor and stopped in the lobby, Rhoda's last words still echoed in her mind: Today is no different from the past.What if the recording is still not good this afternoon?What should she do if she goes from seventy-three to eighty to one hundred to don't know how many times today?What if she went to see Mr. Lefferts tomorrow and instead of a contract he gave her a termination notice? She suddenly felt a strong impulse, it was a deep-rooted hatred for Norman.It felt like a dull, heavy object, like a rust-dulled hatchet slashing heavily between her eyes.Even if Norman didn't kill Mr. Slovik, even if Norman was still far away in another time zone of his hometown, he was still on her trail, just as Peterson was on the trail of poor, terrified Alma St. Like George, following her trail in her mind. The elevator doors opened.Rosie walked down the hall.A man standing in front of a building schematic turned around to face her.His face was full of hope and anxiety, and that expression made him look younger.He was almost a handsome boy. "Hi, Rosie," Bill said. 9 She had a sudden strong urge to run away, to get out of here before he could see that he had shaken her mind.At this moment his eyes caught hers, and he stared into her eyes so tightly that it was impossible to escape.She couldn't remember the charming green eyes in those eyes, which shone like sunlight in a shallow pool of clear water.Instead of fleeing towards the exit of the lobby, she walked slowly towards him, feeling both happiness and fear at the same time.Now she felt strongly that she could finally breathe a sigh of relief. "I told you to stay away from me." She heard her voice tremble. He took her hand.She didn't want him to touch her, but she couldn't resist... Her hands that were held by him didn't want to break free from his grasp. "Yes, you told me," he said tersely, "but Rosie, I can't." This panicked her, and she let go of his hand.She studied his face in disbelief.This kind of thing had never happened to her before.She didn't know what to say or how to react. He opened his arms, perhaps just to suggest his impotence, but the gesture her weary heart had longed for, it swept away her restraint and confusion, and Rosie found herself dreamily thrown into his wide lap. bosom, her face pressed against his shoulders and her eyes closed as he wrapped his arms around her.With his slender hands he stroked her hair, which today she had left unbraided and let it flow over her shoulders.She had a dreamy feeling: she hadn't just fallen into his arms; she had been asleep until today, when the alarm clock woke her up from her motorbike dream; Snow White, who was awake, has not fully awakened until now.She finally woke up.With those first-opened eyes she gazed at everything around her in amazement. "I'm so glad you're here." 10 They walked east along Lake Shore Drive, and a strong hot wind hit their faces.She smiled at him as he wrapped his arms around her waist, and they had walked the three miles along the lake.Rosie felt that as long as his arms remained around her in this way, she could walk all the way down the lake.Maybe go to the other side, just go on quietly like this, from one water wave to another water wave. "What are you laughing at?" he asked her. "Oh, no laughing," she said, "I just wanted to laugh." "Do you really want me to come to you?" "Yes. I couldn't sleep last night. I kept thinking I made a mistake. I think it was a real mistake, but... Bill..." "Go on." "It's because I've been thinking about you, and I've never felt that way about any man in my life. I must be crazy to say these things to you." He squeezed her hand harder. "You're not crazy." "I called you and told you to stay away from me because something happened, or could happen. I didn't want you to get hurt at all, and I still think so." "It's about Norman, isn't it? He's finally coming to you." "My heart tells me this is him," Rossi said cautiously, "and my nerves tell me he's here. But I'm not sure whether to trust my heart and my nerves, which have been there for so many years Terrified. My nerves are about to collapse." She glanced at her watch, then at the hot dog stand parked on the corner ahead.On a few benches on a small lawn nearby, some secretary-looking people were eating hot dogs. "Can you buy a lady a hot dog with kimchi on it?" she asked. "I never grew up eating anything like that." "I'd be happy to buy you a copy." "Let's sit on the bench over there and I can talk to you about Norman. Then you decide whether to keep seeing me. If you decide not to come to me, I completely understand." "Rosie, I don't want to..." "Don't say that now. You can decide after I finish telling you about him. It's better to wait until you finish eating before I start, otherwise it will affect your appetite." 11 Five minutes later he was back at the bench where she was already sitting.He carefully carried a tray containing two foot-long hot dogs with pickles and two glasses of lemonade.She picked up a hot dog and a drink, put the drink on the bench, and looked at him gravely. "You really shouldn't be buying me food. I feel like the waif who advertised for UNICEF." "I'd buy you something to eat. Rosie, you're too thin." She wanted to say that Norman never said that, but it didn't feel like that was quite the case.She didn't know what to say, so she said nothing and started to fiddle with the hot dog.She frowned and took a bite intently, as if performing a mysterious ritual passed down from mother to daughter and then passed down from generation to generation. "Rosie, tell me about Norman now." "Okay, let me figure out how to start." She took another bite of the hot dog, relishing the tongue-tingle from the pickle, and took a sip of the lemonade.She thought that once she had finished, Bill would not want to know her any more, he would be horrified and at the same time extremely disgusted that this woman had lived with such a beast as Norman for so many years!But it was too late now, and she began to speak.She spoke calmly, and gradually began to calm down. She started talking when she was fifteen.When she was a little girl, she especially liked to tie a pink ribbon in her hair, she thought it was beautiful.One night, a housewives-of-the-future reunion she was going to attend was canceled and her father would be two hours away from school to pick her up. To pass the time, she went to a basketball game between two school teams. game.She said she was there to be seen wearing a pretty pink ribbon.The whole library is empty.In the bleachers sat down next to her a boy in a team uniform, a big broad-shouldered boy.The high school student would have been on the court with the rest of the varsity team if he hadn't been expelled for fighting in December.She continued to talk, letting her mouth pour out, even though she had planned to keep it in her heart forever.The story about the tennis racquet she will never tell anyone.She only tells Bill how Norman bit her on the honeymoon, which she tries to convince herself is a special form of love; …etc. "So I always need to go to the toilet." She looked down at her fingers and smiled nervously, "But it's better now." She told him that when they were first married, he used to burn her fingers with a lighter And toes, luckily the torture stopped when Norman quit smoking.She also told him that one night when Norman came home, he put his dinner on his lap and sat silently in front of the TV watching the news. A pencil pierced her body hard, and the pencil remained under the skin like a mole, but there was hardly any bleeding at the time.She told Bill that she was not afraid of Norman's serious injury to her, but that it was his silence that frightened her most.When she asked him what exactly she did wrong, he never answered, just kept walking up and down behind her until she stopped talking.She didn't think of running away. To do so would be like throwing matches in a powder keg.He kept poking her arm with a pencil.Shoulders and chest, every time the pencil stub penetrated her skin through the coat, the clothes made a short pop: poof!puff!puff!Finally she huddled in a corner, her knees on her chest, her arms clasping her head tightly.He knelt down in front of her with a stern expression on his face, and kept stabbing her with the pencil, making that popping sound constantly.She told Bill that at that moment she had concluded that he wanted to kill her and that she would be the only person in the world to be killed by a No. Will hear, she didn't want them to find out how they lived in humiliation.When she was in pain enough to scream, Norman went to the bathroom and closed the door.He was there for a long time.At this point she began to think of running away, going anywhere as long as she could leave the house.But it was late at night and he was at home.If he finds her gone, he will pursue her and kill her if he catches her.She knew he would. "He'll bite my neck off like a chicken breast." She never looked up at Bill as she spoke.She promised herself that she would leave Norman, and if he hurt her again, she would leave him immediately.But about five months have passed since then, and he hasn't touched her once.At first, she didn't feel how bad things were, so she told herself that since she could bear him stabbing her with a pencil over and over again, she should be able to bear his fists.She couldn't stop thinking about it until, in 1985, his beatings suddenly started to escalate.She told him that the Wendy Yarrow incident had made Norman wary that year. "Is that the year you miscarried?" Bill asked. "Yes," she said into her hand, "and he broke one of my ribs, maybe two, I can't remember. Don't you think it's terrible?" He didn't answer.She went on, telling him that the worst thing about it was Norman's long silence, which was scarier than causing her to miscarry.He looked at her without saying anything, snorting loudly like a wild animal about to pounce.After her miscarriage, things got a little better.She told him how she passed the time in her rocking chair, realizing she had showered almost eight or nine times a day when she heard Norman's car pulling into the driveway and pulling the table away for dinner.Usually she always turns off the light in the bathroom. "I like to take a bath in the dark." She still didn't dare to take her eyes off her hands, "It's like a damp and safe secret room inside." Anna called her because of a very important matter.She got some information that was not disclosed in the newspaper and was detained by the police to further find out the truth.Peter Slovik suffered thirty or forty bites all over his body and lost at least one bone.Police believe the killer took it.Anna learned from the treatment team that the first important person Rosie McClendon had contact with in this city was Anna's ex-husband, Peter Slovik, and Rosie was married to a biting beast .Anna added that there may not be a necessary connection between the two, but... what if there is another possibility? "A biting brute," Bill said softly to himself, "is that what people call him?" "I guess so," Rosie said, fearing he wouldn't believe her, and pulling back the short sleeve of the record company's pink t-shirt to reveal her right shoulder, where she pointed to the white scar that looked It looked like a shark bite mark.It was his first time, and it was his wedding gift to her on the honeymoon.She held out her left arm again, showing him another lingering scar.The scar reminded her of a tusked beast in a dense jungle, ready to pounce at any moment. "This time the wound bled a lot, and then it got infected." Her voice sounded like an everyday incident, "but I didn't go to the hospital. Norman brought me back a large bottle of antibiotic pills. The wound slowly healed." Yes. He knows people from all walks of life, and he can get all kinds of things from them. He calls them 'parent's little helpers.' This guy is very crafty, isn't he?" She kept her eyes on her hands on her knees as she spoke.At last she mustered up the courage to lift her head and cast a quick glance in his face, to gauge his reaction to the words.But what she saw took her by surprise. "Rosie, what are you talking about?" Bill asked frankly. "Are you crying?" said Rosie, her own voice trembling now. Bill looked surprised. "No, I haven't, at least I don't know." She stretched out her index finger and touched under his eyes, reaching out to his eyes, showing him the tears on her fingers.He bit his lip and watched carefully. "You didn't eat much." There was half a hot dog left on his paper plate, and a few slices of wasabi pickles spilled next to the bread.Bill threw the paper plate into the trash can by the bench and looked back at her, absently wiping the tears off his cheek. A dark cloud hung over Rosie's mind.She wanted to leave the park bench, but it was too late.It was time for him to ask her why she was with Norman.It was an unanswerable question, and it would be the first barrier between them.She didn't know why she was with Norman, let alone why a drop of blood changed her life.She only knew that in those years, the most cozy place in the family could only be the bathroom, which was dark, damp, and steaming, like a secret storage room.Sometimes she lay in the rocking chair for half an hour like five minutes had just passed, and when you're living in hellfire, any question means nothing to you.There was no motive or purpose in hell, and the sisters in the therapy group knew it; no one there ever asked her why she was living with Norman.They already knew.They know it from their own experience.Some of them, she supposed, knew what a tennis racket was... they even knew worse things than a tennis racket. But Bill's last question took her completely by surprise, and she struggled to keep from falling. "Wendy Yarlow got him in a lot of trouble in 1985. How likely is it that he killed her?" She was shocked that this wasn't the kind of question one could just throw around without thinking about it.It had been haunting her for years, though it had been vaguely told, never fully confirmed. "Rosie? I'm asking you, what do you think the chances of him killing her—" "I think it's very likely... oh, it's actually very likely." "Her death is a relief to him, isn't it? The civil courts won't drag the case on forever." "you are right." "If she had been bitten, do you think it would have been mentioned in the papers?" "I don't know. Maybe not?" She glanced at her watch and stood up quickly. "Oh, little boy, I have to go now. Rhoda wanted it to start at a quarter past twelve, and it's already twelve o'clock." Ten minutes." They started walking back side by side.She found herself longing for his hand to remain on her waist, but part of her told her not to be too greedy, and the other part told her not to ask for trouble, that he was just doing a little thing to her. I think I must be in love with him. That's not what's in the headlines today.Things have already happened. "What did Anna say about the police?" he asked her. "Did she tell you to call the police?" She looked a little stiff and stiff in his arms, her throat felt dry. Cops are brothers.Norman had said this to her countless times.Law enforcement is a family, and the police are brothers.Rossi didn't know if it was true or not, and he didn't know how much they supported each other and concealed each other.But she knew that the cops Norman used to bring home looked just as scary as he did, and she knew that Norman never said a bad word about any cop, not even his first partner, whom he hated the most. That scheming and corrupt bastard Gordon Satterwaite, and of course Harry Bissington, who was good at ripping Rosie from head to toe with those greedy eyes.Harry had a form of skin cancer and had taken early retirement three years earlier, but he was still Norman's assistant in 1985, when the Rich Bender and Wendy Yarrow case had just wrapped up.If Norman had killed Wendy Yarrow, as Rosie suspected, Harry would have given Norman crucial support.Not only because he himself was involved in the case, but also because the law enforcement officers in the world are one family, and the police are brothers.Cops see the world differently than normal people; they look at it from scratch.This makes them different from ordinary people, and makes some of them more than ordinary people can compare.That's how Norman was made. "I never go near the police," Rosie went on, "Anna says I don't have to go. No one can force me to. The police are his friends and brothers, they protect each other, and— —” "Relax, don't be nervous," he said in a panic, "Relax, it's all right now." "How can I relax! What I want to say is that you don't understand the situation. That's why I called you and said that I can never see you again because you don't know what happened between them What kind of things. If I go to the local police station and talk to them, they will definitely contact the police in my hometown. A policeman entrusted to him..." She was thinking of Harry, the guy who kept staring at her tits, pulling the hem of her skirt over and over again every time she sat down. "Rosie, you don't have to think—" "No, that's all I can think of!" Her voice was so intense that it didn't sound like her own at all. "If a policeman knew how to get in touch with Norman, he'd get in touch with him. He'd tell him that I've been asking for information about him; and that they'd ask me to leave my address when I filed a charge; if I really leave it to them and they'll let him know right away." "I'm sure not all policemen..." "Did you live under the same roof, play the same deck of cards, watch TV with them?" "Oh . . . not. But . . . " "Not only have I lived with the police, I've listened to them a lot, and I know how they see the world. They are what I say they are, even the best cops." He opened his mouth, not knowing what to say.He thought that the idea of ​​Norman telepathically finding out from the police station that she lived on Ivy Avenue had some perspicacity.But he didn't want to keep quiet about it.The look of hatred and determination on her face not to return to the pain showed that there was nothing he could say to her.She feared the police, and that was the way it was. "Besides, Anna said I didn't have to go. Anna said that if the murderer was really Norman, they'd see him first." Bill thought about it for a while, and felt that this made sense. "What are they going to do?" "She's already got to work. She faxed a women's group in my hometown to tell them what might be happening here. She asked them to send in some information about Norman, and they faxed it an hour later. A lot of relevant material, including a photograph." Bill raised his eyebrows. "Highly efficient and in my spare time." "My husband was a hero back home," she said sullenly. "He was in charge of a crime team that cracked a major drug cartel case. His picture was on the front page of the paper for two or three days, and he was given it for free." Drinks for a month." Bill whistled.It can be seen that she is not a paranoid. "The woman who got Anna's plea for help did something even worse," Rosie went on. "She called the police department and asked if she could talk to Norman. She made up a story. , said her organization wanted to give him a Women's Recommendation Award." He thought for a long time before he understood what was going on, and then he burst out laughing.Rosie also laughed together with a tired face. "The officer on duty did a computer check and said Lieutenant Daniels was on vacation. He thought it was somewhere out west." "But he's probably here on vacation," Bill mused. "Yes, if someone is actually hurt, it's my fault..." He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around.He saw her radiant eyes begin to shrink back.It was a look that made him sad.He suddenly remembered that he had heard in the religious studies class at the Christian Center that people were stoned to death in the age of prophets in the Bible.He thought at the time that it was the cruelest and most unbelievable form of punishment ever invented, far more cruel than the stake and the electric chair, and that it could never be justified.But now, when he sees what Norman Daniels has done to this fragile and vulnerable lovely woman, he has doubts about that idea. "It's not your fault," he told her. "You didn't make Norman." She was taken aback.The thought never crossed her mind. "In God's name, how on earth did he find this Slovik?" "He tracked him down by imagining himself as me," she said. Bill looked at her.She nodded. "It sounds borderline crazy, but it's true. He can actually do it, I've seen him do it. That's how he busted the cartel." "Is it a hunch, or a hunch?" "Neither. Something like telepathy. He calls it fishing." Bill shook his head. "Are we talking about an extremely eccentric guy?" The question surprised her, and she smiled. "Big boy, you don't understand anything! Anyway, the Sisters have seen his pictures, especially at the picnic on Saturday, and they will be very careful. Someone will bring compressed gas... Anna Remind them to use it when they are really in trouble. I think these methods are quite good. She also comforted me and said, Rosie, don't be afraid, we all go through times of fear. But when that one saved me at the coach station After a lifeless person is killed, what you feel is more than fear!" She gradually raised her voice, and spoke faster and faster.He touches her hand. "I understand you very well, Rosie," he said in a soothing voice. "I know it's not just a matter of fear." "Anna knew what she was doing, she arranged it all, and she notified the police department that there was a drunk walking around throwing bricks at glass. He spat on his wife when she went out to get the newspaper Spit. But Anna has never dealt with someone like Norman, and that's what worries me the most." She paused, trying to control her emotions, and raised her eyebrows.Smiling at him, "However, she said there was absolutely no need for me to get involved.— "I'm so glad she said that." The Cohen Building was in sight. "You didn't even mention my hair." She raised her head again and glanced at him shyly, "Did you not notice it, or didn't you like it?". He inspected her hair with a grin. "I did notice it, and I liked it, but I was thinking about something else. I mean, I was really worried that I'd never see you again." "I'm so sorry to make you so uneasy." She was very happy to think that he was worried about her.Had she ever felt an ounce of that joy when she dated Norman?She can't remember.Now everything has become blurred like a dream. "Did you get your inspiration from the girl in the painting? You met me when you were buying that painting." "Perhaps so," she said cautiously.He must have wondered why he didn't mention her hair. But he surprised her again. "Most women change the color of their hair and give the impression that she's only changing the color of their hair," he said. "Most men pretend not to know, but they do. But you... gave me the impression that, Your hair was dyed the day you went to my store and now is your real hair color. Don’t think this is bullshit, I’m telling the truth. Usually blonde hair doesn’t look real. Your hair should look like油画里那样辫起来。那样会使你像斯堪的纳维亚公主，性感极了。” 这个字眼触动了一阵既具魅力又令她惊慌的感觉。我不喜欢性，她想。我从来没有想到过性，但是—— 罗达和科特从另一个方向朝他们走来。四个人在科恩大厦老式的旋转门前会齐了。罗达的目光上上下下地打量着比尔，带着明显的好奇。 “比尔，这两位是我的同事，”罗西不仅没有平静下来，脸颊反而更加灼热了，“他们是罗达·西蒙斯和科特·汉密尔顿。罗达，科蒂斯，这位是——”刹那间，她一点也想不起来这个对她来说已经十分重要的男人的姓名，大脑里顿时一片空白。所幸的是她很快又想起来了。“比尔·史丹纳。” “见到你真高兴。”科特说完，跟比尔握了一下手。他看了一眼大楼，很明显，他想尽快把自己的脑袋塞进那副耳机中间。 “罗西的朋友。”罗达说，伸出了自己的手。细细的手镯在她的手腕上发出微弱而不和谐的撞击声。 “认识你们非常荣幸。”比尔说完，又转向了罗西，“你星期六还打算去吗？” 她兴奋地想了想，然后点了点头。 “我八点半来接你，记住，穿暖和一些。” “知道了。”羞怯的感觉传遍了全身，她顿时觉得乳房发胀，手指也在颤抖。他的目光又一次启动了那种感觉，但比上一次具有更强大的魅力。她突然产生了一阵极其强烈而古怪的冲动，想全身心地拥抱他……就像藤缠树一样紧紧地依偎在他的身上。 “那好，咱们星期六见。”比尔说完，身体稍稍倾斜，匆匆地在她嘴角上吻了一下。“罗达，科蒂斯，再见。” 他转过身，吹着口哨离去了。 “罗西，我想说的是，你的品味还不错。”罗达说，“瞧他那双眼睛！” “我们只不过是朋友而已。”罗西尴尬地说，“我见到他是在……”她的声音逐渐低了下去。突然解释他们相识的过程会把事情复杂化，那样会使自己更加窘迫。她只好耸耸肩，神经质地笑了笑。“你瞧，就是这么回事。” “是的，我看得出来。”罗达看着比尔在街上逐渐远去的身影说道。接着她转过身，高兴地冲罗百笑着，“我真的能看出来，在这个历尽磨难的女人心中跳动着一颗真正的罗曼蒂克的心灵。我衷心希望你和史丹纳先生成为非常好的朋友。怎么样，你准备好开始工作了吗？” “是的。”罗西说。 “既然你已经处理好一切……你现在处于良好的状态，我们能做得比早上好一些吗？” “我肯定会好得多。”罗西说。事实证明果然如此。