五十度灰(Fifty Shades of Grey)英文版 Part II 8

gazesatme.

“yes,iam,”imurmurbackathim.“iwantedtoask

yousomething.”

“goahead.”

“yourbiologicalfather...doyouknowwhohe

was?”thisthoughthasbeenbuggingme.

hisbrowcreases,andthenheshakeshishead.“iha一ve

noidea.wasn’tthesa一vagewhowasherpimp,whichis

good.”

“howdoyouknow?”

“somethingmydad...somethingcarricksaidto

me.”

igazeatmyfiftyexpectantly,waiting.hesmirksat

me.

“sohungryforinformation,anastasia,”hesighs,

shakinghishead.“thepimpdiscoveredthecrackwhore’s

bodyandphoneditintotheauthorities.tookhimfour

daystomakethediscoverythough.heshutthedoor

whenheleft...leftmewithher...herbody.”hiseyes

cloudatthememory.

iinhalesharply.poorbabyboy—thehorroristoo

grimtocontemplate.

“policeinterviewedhimlater.hedeniedflatoutiwas

anythingtodowithhim,andcarricksaidhelooked

nothinglikeme.”

“doyourememberwhathedidlooklike?”

“anastasia,thisisn’tapartofmylifeirevisitvery

often.yes,irememberwhathelookedlike.i’llnever

forgethim.”christian’sfacedarkensandhardens,

becomingmoreangular,hiseyesfrostingwithanger.“can

wetalkaboutsomethingelse?”

“i’msorry.ididn’tmeantoupsetyou.”

heshakeshishead.“it’soldnews,ana.not

somethingiwanttothinkabout.”

“sowhat’sthissurprise,then?”ineedtochangethe

subjectbeforehegoesallfiftyonme.hisexpression

lightensimmediately.

“canyoufacegoingoutforsomefreshair?iwantto

showyousomething.”

“ofcourse.”

imarvelhowquicklyheturns—mercurialasever.he

grinsatmewithhisboyish,carefree,i’m-only-twentyseven

smile,andmyheartlurchesintomymouth.soit’s

somethingclosetohisheart,icantell.heswatsme

playfullyonmybehind.

“getdressed.jeanswillbegood.ihopetaylor’s

packedsomeforyou.”

herisesandpullsonhisboxerbriefs.oh...icould

sithereallday,watchinghimwanderaroundtheroom.

myinnergoddessagrees,swooningassheoglesfromher

chaiselongue.

“up,”hescolds,bossyasever.igazeathim,grinning.

“justadmiringtheview.”

herollshiseyesatme.

aswedress,inoticethatwemovewiththe

synchronizationoftwopeoplewhoknoweachotherwell,

eachwatchfulandacutelyawareoftheother,exchanging

theoccasionalshysmileandsweettouch.anditdawnson

methatthisisjustasnewforhimasitisforme.

“dryyourhair,”christianordersoncewe’redressed.

“domineeringasever.”ismirkathim,andheleans

downtokissmyhair.

“that’snevergoingtochange,baby.idon’twantyou

sick.”

irollmyeyesathim,andhismouthtwistsin

amusement.

“mypalmsstilltwitch,youknow,misssteele.”

“iamgladtohearit,mr.grey.iwasbeginningto

thinkyouwerelosingyouredge,”iretort.

“icouldeasilydemonstratethatisnotthecase,should

yousowish.”christiandragsalarge,cream,cable-knit

sweateroutofhisbaganddrapesitartfullyoverhis

shoulders.withhiswhitet-shirtandjeans,hisartfully

rumpledhair,andnowthis,helooksasifhe’ssteppedout

ofthepagesofahigh-endglossymagazine.

nooneshouldlookthisgood.andidon’tknowifit’s

themomentarydistractionofhissheerperfectlooksorthe

knowledgethathelovesme,buthisthreatnolongerfills

mewithdread.thisismyfiftyshades;thisisthewayhe

is.

asireachforthehairdryer,atangiblerayofhope

blossoms.wewillfindamiddleway.wejustha一veto

recognizeeachother’sneedsandaccommodatethem.i

candothat,surely?

igazeatmyselfinthedressermirror.i’mwearingthe

paleblueshirtthattaylorboughtandhadpackedforme.

myhairisamess,myfaceflushed,mylipsswollen—i

touchthem,rememberingchristian’ssearingkisses,andi

can’thelpasmallsmileasistare.yes,ido,hesaid.

“wherearewegoingexactly?”iaskaswewaitinthe

lobbyfortheparkingvalet.

christiantapsthesideofhisnoseandwinksatme

conspiratorially,lookinglikehe’sdesperatelytryingto

containhisglee.frankly,it’sveryun-fifty.

hewaslikethiswhenwewentgliding—perhapsthat’s

whatwe’redoing.ibeambackathim.hestaresdownhis

noseatmeinthatsuperiorwayhehaswithhislopsided

grin.leaningdown,hekissesmegently.

“doyouha一veanyideahowhappyyoumakemefeel?”

hemurmurs.

“yes...iknowexactly.becauseyoudothesamefor

me.”

thevaletzoomsupinchristian’scar,wearingafacesplitting

grin.jeez,everyoneissohappytoday.

“greatcar,sir,”hemumblesashehandsoverthe

keys.christianwinksandgiveshimanobscenelylarge

tip.

ifrownathim.honestly.

aswecruisethroughthetraffic,christianisdeepin

thought.ayoungwoman’svoicecomesoverthe

loudspeakers;ithasabeautiful,rich,mellowtimbre,andi

losemyselfinhersad,soulfulvoice.

“ineedtomakeadetour.itshouldn’ttakelong,”he

saysabsentmindedly,distractingmefromthesong.

oh,why?i’mintriguedtoknowthesurprise.myinner

goddessisbouncingaboutlikeafive-year-old.

“sure,”imurmur.somethingisamiss.suddenly,he

looksgrimlydetermined.

hepullsintotheparkinglotoflargecardealership,

stopsthecar,andturnstofaceme,hisexpressionwary.

“weneedtogetyouanewcar,”hesays.igapeat

him.

now?onasunday?whatthehell?andthisisasaab

dealership.

“notanaudi?”is,stupidly,theonlythingicanthinkof

tosay,andblesshim,heactuallyflushes.

holycow—christian,embarrassed.thisisafirst.

“ithoughtyoumightlikesomethingelse,”hemutters.

he’salmostsquirming.

oh,please...thisistoovaluableanopportunitynot

toteasehim.ismirk.“asaab?”

“yeah.a9-3.come.”

“whatisitwithyouandforeigncars?”

“thegermansandtheswedesmakethesafestcarsin

theworld,anastasia.”

dothey?“ithoughtyou’dalreadyorderedmeanother

audia3?”

hegivesmeadarklyamusedlook.“icancancelthat.

come.”climbingsmoothlyoutofthecar,hestrolls

gracefullytomysideandopensmydoor.

“ioweyouagraduationpresent,”hesayssoftlyand

holdshishandoutforme.

“christian,youreallydon’tha一vetodothis.”

“yes,ido.please.come.”histonesayshe’snotto

betrifledwith.

iresignmyselftomyfate.asaab?doiwantasaab?

iquiteliketheaudisubmissivespecial.itwasverynifty.

ofcourse,nowit’sunderatonofwhitepaint...i

shudder.andshe’sstilloutthere.

itakechristian’shand,andwewanderintothe

showroom.

troyturniansky,thesalesman,isalloverfiftylikea

cheapsuit.hecansmellasale.weirdlyhisaccentsounds

mid-atlantic,maybebritish?it’sdifficulttotell.

“asaab,sir?pre-owned?”herubshishandswith

glee.

“new.”christian’slipssetintoahardline.

new!

“didyouha一veamodelinmind,sir?”andhe’s

smarmy,too.

“9-32.0tsportsedan.”

“anexcellentchoice,sir.”

“whatcolor,anastasia?”christianinclineshishead.

“er...black?”ishrug.“youreallydon’tneedtodo

this.”

hefrowns.“black’snoteasilyseenatnight.”

oh,forhea一ven’ssake.iresistthetemptationtoroll

myeyes.“youha一veablackcar.”

hescowlsatme.

“brightcanaryyellowthen.”ishrug.

christianmakesaface—canaryyellowisobviously

nothisthing.

“whatcolordoyouwantmetoha一ve?”iaskasifhe’s

asmallchild,whichheisinmanyways.thethoughtis

unwelcome—sadandsoberingatonce.

“silverorwhite.”

“silver,then.youknowi’lltaketheaudi,”iadd,

chastenedbymythoughts.

troypales,sensinghe’slosingasale.“perhapsyou’d

liketheconvertible,ma’am?”heasks,clappinghishands

withenthusiasm.

mysubconsciousiscringingindisgust,mortifiedbythe

wholebuying-a-carbusiness,butmyinnergoddesstackles

hertothefloor.convertible?drool!

christianfrownsandpeersatme.“convertible?”he

asks,raisinganeyebrow.

iflush.it’slikehehasadirecthotlinetomyinner

goddess,whichofcourse,hehas.it’smostinconvenientat

times.istaredownatmyhands.

christianturnstotroy.“whatarethesafetystatson

theconvertible?”

troy,sensingchristian’svulnerability,headsinforthe

kill,reelingoffallmannerofstatistics.

ofcourse,christianwantsmesafe.it’sareligionwith

him,andlikethezealotheis,helistensintentlytotroy’s

well-honedpatter.fiftyreallydoescare.

yes.ido.irememberhiswhispered,chokedwords

fromthismorning,andameltingglowspreadslikewarm

honeythroughmyveins.thisman—god’sgifttowomen

—lovesme.

ifindmyselfgrinninggoofilyathim,andwhenhe

glancesdownatme,he’samusedyetpuzzledbymy

expression.ijustwanttohugmyself,iamsohappy.

“whateveryou’rehighon,i’dlikesome,misssteele,”

hemurmursastroyheadsofftohiscomputer.

“i’mhighonyou,mr.grey.”

“really?wellyoucertainlylookintoxicated.”he

kissesmebriefly.“andthankyouforacceptingthecar.

thatwaseasierthanlasttime.”

“well,it’snotanaudia3.”

hesmirks.“that’snotthecarforyou.”

“ilikedit.”

“sir,the9-3?i’velocatedoneatourbeverlyhills

dealership.wecanha一veithereforyouinacoupleof

days.”troyglowswithtriumph.

“topoftherange?”

“yes,sir.”

“excellent.”christianproduceshiscreditcard,orisit

taylor’s?thethoughtisunnerving.iwonderhowtaylor

is,andifhe’slocatedleilaintheapartment.irubmy

forehead.yes,there’sallofchristian’sbaggage,too.

“ifyou’llcomethisway,mr.”—troyglancesatthe

nameonthecard—“grey.”

christianopensmydoor,andiclimbbackintothe

passengerseat.

“thankyou,”isaywhenhe’sseatedbesideme.

hesmiles.

“you’remostwelcome,anastasia.”

themusicstartsagainaschristianstartstheengine.

“who’sthis?”iask.

“evacassidy.”

“shehasalovelyvoice.”

“shedoes,shedid.”

“oh.”

“shediedyoung.”

“oh.”

“areyouhungry?youdidn’tfinishallyourbreakfast.”

heglancesquicklyatme,disapprovaloutlinedonhisface.

uh-oh.“yes.”

“lunchfirst,then.”

christiandrivestowardthewaterfrontthenheadsnorth

alongthealaskanway.it’sanotherbeautifuldayin

seattle.it’sbeenuncharacteristicallyfineforthelastfew

weeks,imuse.

christianlookshappyandrelaxedaswesitback

listeningtoevacassidy’ssweet,soulfulvoiceandcruise

downthehighway.ha一veieverfeltthiscomfortableinhis

companybefore?idon’tknow.

iamlessnervousofhismoods,confidentthathewon’t

punishme,andheseemsmorecomfortablewithme,too.

heturnsleft,followingthecoastroad,andeventuallypulls

upinaparkinglotoppositeavastmarina.

“we’lleathere.i’llopenyourdoor,”hesaysinsucha

waythatiknowit’snotwisetomove,andiwatchhim

movearoundthecar.willthisevergetold?

westrollarminarmtothewaterfrontwherethemarina

stretchesoutinfrontofus.

“somanyboats,”imurmurinwonder.thereare

hundredsoftheminallshapesandsizes,bobbingupand

downonthecalm,stillwatersofthemarina.outonthe

soundtherearedozensofsailsinthewind,wea一vingto

andfro,enjoyingthefineweather.it’sawholesome,

outdoorsysight.thewindhaspickedupalittle,soipull

myjacketaroundme.

“cold?”heasksandpullsmetightlyagainsthim.

“no,justadmiringtheview.”

“icouldstareatitallday.come,thisway.”

christianleadsmeintoalargeseafrontbarandmakes

hiswaytothecounter.thedécorismorenewengland

thanwestcoast—white-limedwalls,palebluefurnishings,

andboatingparaphernaliahangingeverywhere.it’sa

bright,cheeryplace.

“mr.grey!”thebarmangreetschristianwarmly.

“whatcanigetyouthisafternoon?”

“dante,goodafternoon.”christiangrinsasweboth

slipontobarstools.“thislovelyladyisanastasiasteele.”

“welcometosp’splace.”dantegivesmeafriendly

smile.he’sblackandbeautiful,hisdarkeyesassessingme

andnotfindingmewanting,itseems.onelargediamond

studwinksatmefromhisear.ilikehimimmediately.

“whatwouldyouliketodrink,anastasia?”

iglanceatchristian,whoregardsmeexpectantly.oh,

he’sgoingtoletmechoose.

“please,callmeana,andi’llha一vewhatever

christian’sdrinking.”ismileshylyatdante.fifty’sso

muchbetteratwinethaniam.

“i’mgoingtoha一veabeer.thisistheonlybarin

seattlewhereyoucangetadnam’sexplorer.”

“abeer?”

“yes.”hegrinsatme.“twoexplorers,please,

dante.”

dantenodsandsetsupthebeersonthebar.

“theydoadeliciousseafoodchowderhere,”christian

says.

he’saskingme.

“chowderandbeersoundsgreat.”ismileathim.

“twochowders?”danteasks.

“please.”christiangrinsathim.

wetalkthroughourmeal,asweneverha一vebefore.

christianisrelaxedandcalm—helooksyoung,happy,

andanimateddespiteallthattranspiredyesterday.he

recountsthehistoryofgreyenterprisesholdings,andthe

morehereveals,themoreisensehispassionforfixing

problemcompanies,hishopesforthetechnologyhe’s

developing,andhisdreamsofmakinglandinthethird

worldmoreproductive.ilistenenraptured.he’sfunny,

clever,philanthropic,andbeautiful,andhelovesme.

inturn,heplaguesmewithquestionsaboutrayand

mymom,aboutgrowingupinthelushforestsof

montesano,andmybriefstintsintexasandvegas.he

demandstoknowmyfa一voritebooksandfilms,andi’m

surprisedbyhowmuchweha一veincommon.

aswetalk,itstrikesmethathe’sturnedfromhardy’s

alectoangel,debasementtohighidealinsuchashort

spaceoftime.

it’saftertwowhenwefinishourmeal.christiansettles

thetabwithdante,whowishesusafondfarewell.

“thisisagreatplace.thankyouforlunch,”isayas

christiantakesmyhandandwelea一vethebar.

“we’llcomeagain,”hesays,andwestrollalongthe

waterfront.“iwantedtoshowyousomething.”

“iknow...andican’twaittoseeit,whateveritis.”

wewanderhandinhandalongthemarina.itissucha

pleasantafternoon.peopleareoutenjoyingtheirsunday

—walkingdogs,admiringtheboats,watchingtheirkids

runalongthepromenade.

asweheaddownthemarina,theboatsaregetting

progressivelylarger.christianleadsmeontothedockand

stopsinfrontofahugecatamaran.

“ithoughtwe’dgosailingthisafternoon.thisismy

boat.”

holycow.itmustbeatleastforty,maybefiftyfeet.

twosleekwhitehulls,adeck,aroomycabin,and

toweringoverthemaverytallmast.iknownothingabout

boats,buticantellthisoneisspecial.

“wow...,”imurmurinwonder.

“builtbymycompany,”hesaysproudlyandmyheart

swells.“she’sbeendesignedfromthegroundupbythe

verybestna一valarchitectsintheworldandconstructed

hereinseattleatmyyard.shehashybridelectricdrives,

asymmetricdaggerboards,asquare-toppedmainsail—”

“okay...you’velostme,christian.”

hegrins.“she’sagreatboat.”

“shelooksmightyfine,mr.grey.”

“thatshedoes,misssteele.”

“what’shername?”

hepullsmetothesidesoicanseehername:the

grace.i’msurprised.“younamedherafteryourmom?”

“yes.”hecockshisheadtooneside,quizzical.“why

doyoufindthatstrange?”

ishrug.iamsurprised—healwaysseemsambivalent

inherpresence.

“iadoremymom,anastasia.whywouldn’tinamea

boatafterher?”

iflush.“no,it’snotthat...it’sjust...”shit,how

caniputthisintowords?

“anastasia,gracetrevelyansa一vedmylife.ioweher

everything.”

igazeathim,andletthereverenceinhissoftlyspoken

admissionwashoverme.it’sobvioustome,forthefirst

time,thatheloveshismom.whythenhisstrangestrained

ambivalencetowardher?

“doyouwanttocomeaboard?”heasks,hiseyes

bright,excited.

“yes,please.”ismile.

helooksdelightedanddelightfulinoneyummy

scrumptiouspackage.graspingmyhand,hestridesupthe

smallgangplankandleadsmeaboardsothatweare

standingondeckbeneatharigidcanopy.

toonesidethere’satableandau-shapedbanquette

coveredinpaleblueleather,whichmustseatatleasteight

people.iglancethroughtheslidingdoorstotheinteriorof

thecabinandjump,startledwhenispysomeonethere.

thetallblondmanopenstheslidingdoorsandemerges—

alltanned,curly-hairedandbrown-eyed—wearingafaded

pinkshort-sleevedpoloshirt,shorts,anddeckshoes.he

mustbeinhisearlythirties.

“mac.”christianbeams.

“mr.grey!welcomeback.”theyshakehands.

“anastasia,thisisliammcconnell.liam,my

girlfriend,anastasiasteele.”

girlfriend!myinnergoddessperformsaquick

arabesque.she’sstillgrinningovertheconvertible.iha一ve

togetusedtothis—it’snotthefirsttimehe’ssaidit,but

hearinghimsayitisstillathrill.

“howdoyoudo?”liamandishakehands.

“callmemac,”hesayswarmly,andican’tplacehis

accent.“welcomeaboard,misssteele.”

“ana,please,”imutter,flushing.hehasdeepbrown

eyes.

“how’ssheshapingup,mac?”christianinterjects

quickly,andforamoment,ithinkhe’stalkingaboutme.

“she’sreadytorockandroll,sir,”macbeams.oh,

theboat,thegrace.sillyme.

“let’sgetunderway,then.”

“yougoingtotakeherout?”

“yep.”christianflashesmacaquickwickedgrin.

“quicktour,anastasia?”

“yes,please.”

ifollowhiminsidethecabin.anl-shapedcream

leathersofaisdirectlyinfrontofus,andaboveit,a

massivecurvedwindowoffersapanoramicviewofthe

marina.totheleftisthekitchenarea—verywell

appointed,allpalewood.

“thisisthemainsaloon.galleybeside,”christiansays,

wa一vinghishandinthedirectionofthekitchen.

hetakesmyhandandleadsmethroughthemain

cabin.it’ssurprisinglyspacious.theflooristhesamepale

wood.itlooksmodernandsleekandhasalight,airyfeel,

butit’sallveryfunctional,asifhedoesn’tspendmuchtime

here.

“bathroomsoneitherside.”christianpointstotwo

doors,thenopensthesmall,oddlyshapeddoordirectlyin

frontofusandstepsin.we’reinaplushbedroom.

oh...

ithasaking-sizecabinbedandisallpalebluelinen

andpalewoodlikehisbedroomatescala.christian

obviouslychoosesathemeandstickstoit.

“thisisthemastercabin.”hegazesdownatme,gray

eyesglowing.“you’rethefirstgirlinhere,apartfrom

family,”hesmirks.“theydon’tcount.”

iflushunderhisheatedstare,andmypulsequickens.

really?anotherfirst.hepullsmeintohisarms,his

fingerstanglinginmyhair,andkissesme,longandhard.

we’rebothbreathlesswhenhepullsaway.

“mightha一vetochristenthisbed,”hewhispersagainst

mymouth.

oh,atsea!

“butnotrightnow.come,macwillbecastingoff.”i

ignorethestabofdisappointmentashetakesmyhandand

leadsmebackthroughthesaloon.heindicatesanother

door.

“officeinthere,andatthefronthere,twomore

cabins.”

“sohowmanycansleeponboard?”

“it’sasix-berthcat.i’veonlyeverhadthefamilyon

board,though.iliketosailalone.butnotwhenyou’re

here.ineedtokeepaneyeonyou.”

hedelvesintoachestandpullsoutabrightred

lifejacket.

“here.”puttingitovermyhead,hetightensallthe

straps,afaintsmileplayingonhislips.

“youlovestrappingmein,don’tyou?”

“inanyform,”hesays,awickedgrinplayingonhis

lips.

“youareapervert.”

“iknow.”heraiseshiseyebrowsandhisgrin

broadens.

“mypervert,”iwhisper.

“yes,yours.”

oncesecured,hegrabsthesidesofthejacketand

kissesme.“always,”hebreathes,thenreleasesmebefore

iha一veachancetorespond.

always!holyshit.

“come.”hegrabsmyhandandleadsmeoutside,up

somesteps,andontotheupperdecktoasmallcockpit

thathousesabigsteeringwheelandaraisedseat.atthe

prowoftheboat,macisdoingsomethingwithropes.

“isthiswhereyoulearnedallyourropetricks?”iask

christianinnocently.

“clovehitchesha一vecomeinhandy,”hesays,looking

atmeappraisingly.“misssteele,yousoundcurious.ilike

youcurious,baby.i’dbemorethanhappytodemonstrate

whaticandowitharope.”hesmirksatme,andigaze

backimpassivelyasifhe’supsetme.hisfacefalls.

“gotcha.”igrin.

hismouthtwistsandhenarrowshiseyes.“imayha一ve

todealwithyoulater,butrightnow,i’vegottodrivemy

boat.”hesitsatthecontrols,pressesabutton,andthe

enginesroarintolife.

maccomesscootingbackdownthesideoftheboat,

grinningatme,andjumpsdowntothedeckbelowwhere

hestartstounfastenarope.maybeheknowssomerope

tricks,too.theideapopsunwelcomeintomyheadandi

flush.

mysubconsciousglaresatme.mentallyishrugather

andglanceatchristian—iblamefifty.hepicksupthe

receiverandradiosthecoastguardasmaccallsupthatwe

aresettogo.

oncemore,iamdazzledbychristian’sexpertise.

he’ssocompetent.istherenothingthatthismancan’t

do?thenirememberhisearnestattempttochopanddice

apepperinmyapartmentonfriday.thethoughtmakes

mesmile.