第59部分(第2/7 页)

y　had　only　been　playing　a　game　with

him。　This　had　been　pure　panic；　each　word　screamed　aloud　in　his　bead。

He　looked　down　at　his　arms。　Hot　sunshine　lay　on　them　but　they　had　still　goose…

bumped。　He　had　told　the　boy　to　call　him　if　he　needed　help；　he　remembered　that。

And　now　the　boy　was　calling。

He　suddenly　wondered　how　he　could　have　left　that　boy　up　there　at　all；　shining

the　way　he　did。　There　was　bound　to　be　trouble；　maybe　bad　trouble。

He　suddenly　keyed　the　limo；　put　it　in　reverse；　and　pulled　back　onto　the

highway；　peeling　rubber。　The　waitress　with　the　rolling　hips　stood　in　the　A&W

stand's　archway；　a　tray　with　a　rootbeer　float　on　it　in　her　hands。

〃What　is　it　with　you；　a　fire？〃　she　shouted；　but　Hallorann　was　gone。

*　*　*

The　manager　was　a　man　named　Queems；　and　when　Hallorann　came　in　Queems　was

conversing　with　his　bookie。　He　wanted　the　four…horse　at　Rockaway。　No；　no　parlay；

no　quinella；　no　exacta；　no　goddam　futura。　Just　the　little　old　four；　six　hundred

dollars　on　the　nose。　And　the　Jets　on　Sunday。　What　did　he　mean；　the　Jets　were

playing　the　Bills？　Didn't　he　know　who　the　Jets　were　playing？　Five　hundred；

seven…point　spread。　When　Queems　hung　up；　looking　put…out；　Hallorann　understood

how　a　man　could　make　fifty　grand　a　year　running　this　little　spa　and　still　wear

suits　with　shiny　seats。　He　regarded　Hallorann　with　an　eye　that　was　still

bloodshot　from　too　many　glances　into　last　night's　bourbon　bottle。

〃Problems；　Dick？〃

〃Yes；　sir；　Mr。　Queems；　I　guess　so。　I　need　three　days　off。〃

There　was　a　package　of　Kents　in　the　breast　pocket　of　Queems's　sheer　yellow

shirt。　He　reached　one　out　of　the　pocket　without　removing　the　pack；　twee