JК
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas :: Thompson Hunter S.
Страница: 30 из 255” He sliced the grapefruit into quarters then into eighths… then sixteenths… then he began aimlessly at the residue. “That dirty toad bastard,” he moaned. “I knew I should have taken him out when I had the chance. Now he has her.”
I remembered the girl. We’d had a problem with her on the elevator a few hours earlier: my attorney had made a fool of himself.
“You must be a rider,” she’d said. “What class are you in?”
“Class?” he snapped. “What the fuck do you mean?”
“What do you ride?” she asked with a quick smile.
“We’re filming the race for a TV series - maybe we can use you.”
“Use me?”
Mother of God, I thought. Here it comes. The elevator was crowded with race people: it was taking a long time to get from floor to floor. By the time we’d stopped at Three, he was trembling badly. Five more to go..
“I ride the big ones!” he shouted suddenly. “The really big fuckers!”
I laughed, trying to de - fuse the scene. “The Vincent Black Shadow,” I said. “We’re with the factory team.”
This brought a murmur of rude dissent from the crowd.
“Bullshit,” somebody behind me muttered.
“Wait a minute!” my attorney shouted… and then to the girl: “Pardon me, lady, but I think there’s some kind of ignorant chicken - sucker in this car who needs his face cut open.” He plunged his hand into the pocket of his black plastic jacket and turned to face the people crowded into the rear of the elevator. “You cheap honky faggots,” he snarled. “Which one of you wants to get cut?”
I was watching the overhead floor - indicator. The door opened at Seven, but nobody moved. Dead silence. The door closed. Up to Eight… then open again. Still no sound ormovement in the crowded car. Just as the door began to close I stepped off and grabbed his arm, jerking him out just in time. The doors slid shut and the elevator light dinged Nine.
“Quick! Into the room,” I said. “Those bastards will have on us!” We ran around the corner to the room. My attorney was laughing wildly. “Spooked!” he shouted. “Did you see that? They were spooked. Like rats in a death - cage!”
Then, as we bolted the door behind us, he stopped laughing. “God damn,” he said. “It’s serious now. That girl understood. She fell in love with me.”
Now, many hours later, he was convinced that Lacerda - the so - called photographer - had somehow got his hands on the girl. “Let’s go up there and castrate that fucker,” he said, waving his new knife around in quick circles in front of his teeth.
I remembered the girl. We’d had a problem with her on the elevator a few hours earlier: my attorney had made a fool of himself.
“You must be a rider,” she’d said. “What class are you in?”
“Class?” he snapped. “What the fuck do you mean?”
“What do you ride?” she asked with a quick smile.
“We’re filming the race for a TV series - maybe we can use you.”
“Use me?”
Mother of God, I thought. Here it comes. The elevator was crowded with race people: it was taking a long time to get from floor to floor. By the time we’d stopped at Three, he was trembling badly. Five more to go..
“I ride the big ones!” he shouted suddenly. “The really big fuckers!”
I laughed, trying to de - fuse the scene. “The Vincent Black Shadow,” I said. “We’re with the factory team.”
This brought a murmur of rude dissent from the crowd.
“Bullshit,” somebody behind me muttered.
“Wait a minute!” my attorney shouted… and then to the girl: “Pardon me, lady, but I think there’s some kind of ignorant chicken - sucker in this car who needs his face cut open.” He plunged his hand into the pocket of his black plastic jacket and turned to face the people crowded into the rear of the elevator. “You cheap honky faggots,” he snarled. “Which one of you wants to get cut?”
I was watching the overhead floor - indicator. The door opened at Seven, but nobody moved. Dead silence. The door closed. Up to Eight… then open again. Still no sound ormovement in the crowded car. Just as the door began to close I stepped off and grabbed his arm, jerking him out just in time. The doors slid shut and the elevator light dinged Nine.
“Quick! Into the room,” I said. “Those bastards will have on us!” We ran around the corner to the room. My attorney was laughing wildly. “Spooked!” he shouted. “Did you see that? They were spooked. Like rats in a death - cage!”
Then, as we bolted the door behind us, he stopped laughing. “God damn,” he said. “It’s serious now. That girl understood. She fell in love with me.”
Now, many hours later, he was convinced that Lacerda - the so - called photographer - had somehow got his hands on the girl. “Let’s go up there and castrate that fucker,” he said, waving his new knife around in quick circles in front of his teeth.