gossip girl 9 英文- 第49部分

？And　who？s　this？？　Jason　added。　A　black　cat　wandered　into　the　living　room　from　the　bedroom　at　
the　back　of　the　apartment。　

Well；　that　explains　the　smell。　

Serena　pulled　out　her　pack　of　Gauloises　and　poked　her　head　out　that　famous　kitchen　window；　
hoping　to　feel　inspired；　but　all　she　felt　was　nervous　and　a　little　lost。　Why　was　she　there　again？　

Because　she　was　about　to　star　in　a　major　motion　picture？hello　？　

？He？s　cute。？　In　the　kitchen；　Jason　crouched　down　to　stroke　the　cat　behind　its　ears。　

Serena　turned；　lighting　her　cigarette　as　she　watched　her　dark…haired；　blue…eyed　neighbor　playing　
with　the　cat；　who　apparently　lived　in　their　building　too。　

See？　The　views　aren？tall　bad。　


d　learns　the　art　of　customer　service　

？Excuse　me；　sir；　can　you　tell　me　where　I　can　find　the　romance　novels？？　

Daniel　Humphrey　was　crouched　on　the　floor；　making　sure　the　biographies　were　alphabetized　by　
subject；　not　author。　When　working　at　the　Strand；　New　York？s　best？and　biggest？　bookstore；　it　was　
important　to　pay　attention　to　details　like　the　proper　arrangement　of　the　biographies。　

Whatever　turns　him　on。　

？We　might　have　a　few　on　the　shelves　by　the　stairs；　but　we　don？t　have　a　romance　section；？　Dan　
explained；　unable　to　hide　his　displeasure。　

？Thanks；？　the　woman　replied　cheerfully　as　she　strolled　away　to　browse　the　dusty　Johanna　
Lindsey　books　and　what…ever　Nora　Roberts　novels　were　still　left　on　the　shelves。　

The　Strand　was　legendary　not　just　for　its　incredible　selection　but　also　for　its　highly　educated；　
highly　snotty　staff；　and　Dan　was　thrilled　to　have　gotten　the　job。　He？d　seen　the　help…wanted　poster　
after　dropping　his　sister；　Jenny；　off　at　Kennedy　on　her　impromptu　trip　to　visit　their　mom　in　Prague　
and　take　some　art　classes；　and　he？d　been　feeling　a　little　down　about　what　he　was　supposed　to　do　
with　his　own　summer。　When　he　saw　the　poster　in　the　store　window；　it　really　felt　like　a　sign。　

Now　here　he　was；　shelving　books　at　the　best　store　in　town。　But　pared　to　other　bookstores；　the　
Strand　had　zero　atmosphere。　There　was　no　music；　no　coffee。　Just　rows　and　rows　of　mismatched　
bookshelves　crammed　with　books。　

Pushing　a　creaky　cart　overloaded　with　dusty　volumes；　Dan　made　his　way　down　the　narrow　aisle　
of　the　biography　section。　His　job　involved　spending　lots　of　time　on　his　own　and　ignoring　
customers；　which　gave　him　plenty　of　time　to　think：　about　literature；　about　his　poetry；　about　what　
Evergreen　College　in　Washington　state　was　going　to　be　like；　and　mostly　about　what　his　last　
summer　in　New　York？and　his　last　summer　with　Vanessa？was　going　to　be　like。　He？d　made　a　big　
scene　at　his　graduation　when　he？d　declared　he　wouldn？t　be　enrolling　in　college　at　all　so　he　could　
stay　by　her　side；　but　as　it　turned　out；　he　was　looking　forward　to　driving　out　west　in　the　rad　metallic　
blue　？77　Buick　Skylark　his　dad　had　given　him　as　a　graduation　present。　It　was　the　perfect　car　for　a　
road　trip；　he？d　be　just　like　Jack　Kerouac　inOn　the　Road　；　tearing　up　the　highways　and　making　love　
to　the　land　and　sky　with　the　words　that　crept　into　his　head　as　he　drove　along。　He？d　leave　poems　
for　all　the　women　he　met？the　mysterious　lover　they？d　never　quite　have。　Until　then；　he？d　have　one　
last　perfect　summer　in　the　city　with　Vanessa；　his　first　love。　

Dan　grabbed　a　copy　of　Boswell？sLife　of　Johnson　off　the　top　of　his　cart　and　crouched　on　the　
dusty　wood　floor　of　the　store　trying　to　find　the　spot　where　it　belonged。　His　mind　began　to　wander　
as　the　words　came　to　him：　

Hot　hands　steer　the　wheel　


You？re　my　gears；　my　pedals　

Stir　up　the　dust。　Lust。　Lust。　Make　it　last　

Sure；　it　was　a　little　cheesy；　but　God；　that　was　how　he　felt　right　now。　He　started　making　a　mental　
list　of　classic　romantic　New　York　dates：　Seeing　Shakespeare　in　Central　Park；　riding　the　Staten　
Island　Ferry　just　for　the　hell　of　it；　watching　the　sun　rise　over　the　Fifty…ninth　Street　bridge　just　like　
Woody　Allen　and　Diane　Keaton　inManhattan　。　Maybe　a　drive　out　to　Jones　Beach　in　the　Skylark；　
the　salty　wind　blowing　through　the　open　windows；　Vanessa？s　hair　blowing　behind　them　。　。　。　Okay；　
well；　not　her　hair？she　basically　had　no　hair？but　maybe　she　could　wear　a　long　silk　scarf　or　
something。　He　could　see　it　now。　It　was　going　to　be　the　most　romantic　summer。　

It？s　going　to　besomething　；　that？s　for　sure。　

？Excuse　me；　do　you　have　the　Cliffs　Notes　forUlysses　？？　a　high…pitched　male　voice　whispered　
barely　audibly；　interrupting　Dan？s　reverie。　

Cliffs　Notes　for　James　Joyce？　The　horror！　

Dan　scowled　at　the　nerdy…looking　goth　kid　who？d　asked　for　his　help。　He　was　holding　a　Batman　
lunch　box；　and　Dan　realized　he　wasn？t　nerdy　or　goth　so　much　as　hopeless。　

？Why　don？t　you　try　reading　the　real　thing？？　he　responded　disparagingly。　

Hopeless；　who　was　actually　probably　older　than　Dan？an　NYU　student；　maybe；　or　some　poor　
asshole　toughing　it　out　in　summer　school　so　he　could　finally　graduate　at　twenty…three？　
shrugged。？Boring。？　

Dan　wanted　to　punch　him　in　his　skinny　stomach；　but　he　suddenly　realized　it　was　his　job？no；　his　
duty？to　make　this　asshole　read。　He　stood　up。　？Follow　me。？　

He　led　the　mindless　goth　kid　into　a　small　back　room　full　of　leather…bound　classics　and　found　a　
beautiful　Everyman？s　Library　copy　of　Joyce？s　masterpiece。　Dan　began　to　read　aloud　from　a　
random　page：　？Touch　me。　Soft　eyes。　Soft　soft　soft　hand。　I　am　lonely　here。　O；　touch　me　soon；　now。　
What　is　that　word　known　to　all　men？　I　am　quiet　here　alone。　Sad　too。　Touch；　touch　me。？　Dan　
paused　and　looked　up。　？e　on；　you　know　you　want　to；？　he　urged。　

The　kid　looked　terrified；　probably　suspecting　Dan　was　some　sort　of　Strand…lurking　literary　
pervert。　He　dropped　his　Batman　lunch　box　and　bolted。　

Dan　sat　down　on　the　floor　to　finish　the　page。　He　had　to　admit　that　James　Joyce　did　always　sort　of　
turn　him　on。　


Yes；　it？s　going　to　be　an　interesting　summer　indeed。　

helmets　are　almost　as　important　as　condoms　

Nate　stood　up　on　the　pedals　of　his　vintage　Schwinn；　pushing　them　up　and　down　with　his　feet；　and　
then　eased　himself　back　onto　the　unfortable；　unpadded　leather　seat。　He　liked　to　bike　this　
way？pedaling　as　hard　as　he　could　and　then　sitting　down　to　feel　the　warm　summer　breeze　on　his　
face。　To　the　right；　the　waves　rippled　off　the　beach。　On　his　left　was　a　vine…yard　full　of　Chardonnay　
grapes。　The　air　smelled　like　salt　and　gas…grilled　steak。　He　listened　to　the　satisfying　crunch　of　the　
gravelly　road　under　his　wheels　and　grinned　lazily。　

His　morning　joint　had　done　just　the　trick；　and　by　the　end　of　the　day；　he？d　been　kind　of　grooving　
on　what　was　supposed　to　be　his　summer　punishment。　There　was　something　soothing　about　
physical　labor。　He？d　spent　the　summer　after　tenth　grade　helping　his　dad　build　their　sailboat；　
theCharlotte　；　up　at　his　family？s　pound　in　Mt。　Desert　Isle；　Maine；　and　the　after…noon　working　
on　Coach　Michaels？s　place　kind　of　reminded　him　of　that　summer；　although　the　setting？rows　of　
houses　and　overpopulated　beaches？wasn？t　quite　as　serene。　Still；　there　was　nothing　like　tough　
manual　work；　bright　sunshine；　and　the　reward　of　a　cold　Stella　Artois　when　the　day　was　done；　and　
no　distractions。　

There　were　no　classes　to　worry　about：　school　was　over　at