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〃Spoken like a true Zen policeman；〃 she said with all the irony she could muster。
Evening approaches。 Tori； hidden away from her mother； behind the massive carved oak doors to the library； is again feeling trapped in Diana's Garden。 She remembers a time of adolescence。 She is trapped in the big house in L。A。； in the sunshine； in her sleek tanned body。 She is pinned by her beauty to the imagined future； the foregone conclusion that her father wants for her； that boys her own age imagine is already hers。 They are the same； these images； and they dominate her life like a nun's vows。
She has all she wants within Diana's Garden； and increasingly she feels that there is no reason to venture outside its perfect； all…enpassing environs。
Until； one night during a party given by her parents； she discovers how pletely she has fooled herself。 Just about everyone who matters in Hollywood…except enemies…has descended upon the manor house； and the rooms are full of familiar faces； screen legends； movers and shakers。 There are the money men and their exquisite women； as polished as gems； seemingly pulled out of the men's pockets like an expensive watch or a roll of thousand…dollar bills。
Gossip； which is the only approved mode of munication at affairs such as this； centers around who is sleeping with whom； and who is pregnant by whom。 Gradually it dawns on Tori that these people who inhabit Hollywood like a race of gorgeous troglodytes run their private lives in sync with their professional careers。 Love affairs； marriages； seduction…whatever the current voguish designation…last among these strange； alien life forms only as long as it takes to make a film。 These people meet on the set； bee immersed in each other in the same manner in which they bee immersed in their roles； in order to differentiate reality from fantasy； however； they feel pelled to make tangible their love for one another； if not their mitment。 A child follows； as surely as the night the day。 But； invariably； with the advent of the baby； the love affair； marriage； seduction loses its luster。 A mother is never as exciting as a lover； three takes the edge off the heat generated by two。
Tori understands at last that she hates these people； that she feels their ing as an invasion。 That night； whether in the living room； the study； the library； the throngs of people overwhelm her。 She feels suffocated。 She flees the house； but the grounds； too； are choked with celebrities； and still she cannot breathe。 Bent over by the side of the lighted pool； her sanctuary； where she had always felt closest to Greg； she wheezes like an asthmatic。
At last she stumbles to her car； a new Thunderbird； convulsively turns the ignition and； scattering gravel in her wake； speeds away into the night； the neon light of Los Angeles。 Not Beverly Hills or Westwood； but beyond； where people who are not rich； pampered； privileged； work and play。
There is a rage inside her she can neither explain nor face。 She feels inadequate in the face of it； and at the same time ashamed of it； as if part of her mother has broken off and； like a poisoned arrowhead； has embedded itself in her brain。
She hates the shame most of all； because it keeps her from embracing her rage； owning it and； thus； understanding it。 Kept at a distance； it is nothing more than an arcane artifact living at the edge of her emotional horizon； a glyph…covered stele； marking what？ She does not know； but tonight she is determined to find out。
Down twisty Mulholland to the freeway； rolling over the edge of the glen； ing upon the wide swath of smeary lights glowing in the Valley。 The pollution； trapped by the air inversion between high ground； makes her eyes tear； her skin itch。 She depresses the accelerator； bringing the horizon closer。
At a seedy bar she pulls in beside a line of scruffy Harley…Davidson motorcycles。 She sits listening to the hot engine of the T…bird ticking over as if it is the beating of her heart。 Sadness mixes with her rage； and she wishes that Greg were with her； Greg who is always willing to listen to her； the one person in the world who accepts her as herself and nothing more。 But Greg is away at Cal Tech； studying for finals which he takes more seriously than God。
I am alone。 Tori thinks； the glyph…covered stele ing nearer。
She goes into the bar and orders drink after drink。 She is underage； but she regularly passes for eighteen。 In any event； her beauty is something no bartender can resist； and she is never turned down or asked for ID。
A jukebox is blasting 〃The Loco…Motion；〃 and the dancing is ferocious。 There are a number of black leather jackets。 She sees tattoos； long； lank hair； thick； studded belts and armbands。 One biker wears a miniature skull on a leather thong around his neck。 A girt asks him something； and he laughs； fondling it； saying over the music； 〃It's real； man。 Belonged to a rat that thought it could share my kitchen with me。 What you think o' that？〃 The girl giggles giddily and shudders； but she cannot avert her gaze from the grisly talisman。
All the guys…and most of the girls…are staring at Tori。 She sticks out here like a tea rose in a cabbage patch。 Someone is pointing out the window； at her brand new T…bird； and the whispering begins。 The artifact； once at the edge of her horizon； is almost close enough to touch。
The only guy who hasn't noticed her is the one with the rat skull around his neck。 He is not handsome； not even attractive to Tori； but that is irrelevant。 He is the one she wants。 In him burns the fire she knows so well…yet does not understand at all： the rage of the beast caged； bound by the laws of a hypocritical society。 He will be the one； her Rosetta stone； from whom she will obtain the secret of deciphering the glyphs of her rage。
He is dancing with the girl who asked about the skull。 There is a fire in her eyes that Tori recognizes and envies； a fire she feels but must suppress in order to fit into the perfectly manicured life in Diana's Garden。 The fire exhibits itself as simple； unadulterated； elemental； and it represents everything Tori is not。
With a sudden wrenching of the girl's wrist； Tori spins her away and begins dancing with the biker。 He is huge； and she smells him； a rich； heady bination of leather and sweat。 Primitive。 The beast。
〃Hey！ Hey！〃 The girl has returned； her hair disheveled； her face twisted into an angry mask。
〃Get lost！〃 Tori shouts as she dances。 〃I'm here now！〃
〃Bitch！〃 the girl shouts back； and reaches clumsily for her。 The rage bursts its bonds； at last。 Tori twists her upper torso； slams her balled fist into the girl's face。 The girl's neck snaps back and her legs go out from under her。
Tori continues to dance with the biker。 She has not once looked into his eyes。 She does not want to。 His eyes don't interest her。
〃Hey！〃 he says。 〃Hey！〃
Tori is dancing； and hardly notices that he has stopped。
The biker says to her； ''Who the fuck do you think you are？'' And； as casually as someone would swat a fly； he smashes the heel of his thick hand into Tori's nose； breaking it。 。。。
Tori sat very still in the huge leather chair。 It had been a long time since she had thought of that night in the Valley。 Because her nose had healed slightly crooked； her mother had taken her to her own plastic surgeon。 But after seeing the array of new noses he could provide her； Tori had run out of his office and never gone back。 In the end； her imperfect nose had bee for her a badge of sorts； a reminder of what she had never gotten and what she needed。
Freedom to be 。。。
Be what？ She did not know。 But Adona was right： she needed a passion。 Without it； she was suspended in limbo； surviving perhaps； but hardly living。
〃Tori？〃 Laura Nunn poked her head into the library。 She was wearing a pair of blue jeans with lines of rhinestones across the pockets and down the legs； and a plain white man…tailored shirt； both of which she had just bought at a posh store on Rodeo Drive in the mistaken impression this casual outfit would allow her to feel closer to her daughter。 But this attempt at being a pal was a role as well； and the sight merely saddened Tori。
〃Oh； there you are； darling！ You seemed to have disappeared like a puff of smoke。〃 Laura Nunn flashed her kilowatt smile。 〃There's someone here to see you。〃
〃There is？ I don't see how。〃 Tori looked up from the book she was reading。 She had one leg thrown over the arm of me oversized leather chair she was slouched in。 She was barefoot； wearing only a pair of cutoffs and a Cal Tech T…shirt。 ''No one knows where I am。〃
〃Nevertheless； he's here。〃
〃Who？〃
〃Russell。〃
〃Russell who？〃
〃Why； you know； dear。 Russell Slade。〃 Laura Nunn held the smile as if she were waiting for the director to yell； Cut！
〃Jesus Christ！〃 Tori slammed the book shut； jumped off the chair。 〃I hope to God you told him to go to hell or； at the very least； that I wasn't home。〃
〃I did nothing of the sort；〃 Laura Nunn said。 〃I told him I was delighted to see him…which； by the way； I am。 I told him I'd go fetch you。 Now…〃
〃Mother； Russell Slade fired me！〃
〃Well； I'm sure that was just a misunderstanding；〃 Laura Nunn said。 〃More a matter of internal politics than anything