Chapter 35 Chapter Thirty-Four

I got a head start on Estelle before I saw Owen's photography.One day when Dalio was sleeping and everyone else was out, I sneaked in.I don't go to work anymore.The work takes hours and doesn't make enough money to fit between teeth.I make up the difference in paychecks from people's carelessness.Pipa is my best ATM.The bills she had left were scattered around the room; if they were missing, she would not have noticed.I have had forty pounds from Paige since she died.I also stole twenty pounds from Miles, who told him to forget his wallet at home one day.I also stole a few coins from Estelle.Mike and Owen are more alert, while Dalio seems to be penniless all the time.But once I dried some tobacco from his room and sold it to him.I said that the people at the construction site gave them to me. Although I didn't want them, I thought he would be interested.He insisted on sending me something back, and I could tell he was a little guilty of ripping me off.

The renovations before handover are about to be completed, and this is a critical moment for me.We were doing the finishing touches, painting the walls, and putting in the last few baseboards, when the buyer couple came to view the property.They were not that old, maybe in their early thirties, but it was obvious that both of them had a lot of money, as low as two to five to eighty thousand.Her hair shimmered, as if each strand had been polished.They give off an air of indifference, as if they are so superior that they don't bother to appear superior to others.Workers like us with rough hands and cement-stained hair look like servants who don't even understand English in their eyes.So what if we understand?Which onion are we?The two of them raised their voices and said in a drawn-out tone: If they had bought this land, they would have demolished it and rebuilt it.Their wording: tear down and rebuild.Some of the decor is not to their taste.They must have dismantled the entire kitchen equipment and asked the architect to study the plans for the first floor.Bathrooms are cheap and dirty.I stood listening to them say something, and felt a throbbing in my chest, as if a moth had been trapped in it, or a tight hoop around my head.The eyelids on either side of me were twitching.

I put down my paintbrush and went into the garden, trying to clean my ears, and wishing on the other hand, that I would make a fortune and get out of here.To leave London, to leave England, to a new country where people respect me, and I command them.I imagine the beaches of Brazil, beautiful women looking up at me admiringly.For a while, I even fantasized that Estelle was beside me, holding my arm, laughing at what I said, and pressing her slender, muscular body against mine. After receiving my wages that day, I disappeared without looking back, never went back, and ignored the text messages sent to my mobile phone from the construction site.Of course, I didn't tell my roommate about my resignation, which meant that I had to go out at the usual time every morning, and go home every afternoon as if I had done a day of drudgery.However, now I have time to plan and plan, and I also have time to investigate the details of my roommate.

That's how I found out that Pipa was having an affair with poor Mike, and he became another of her booty.And then it was more brilliant, more interesting, and what struck me was when I went into the kitchen and saw Pipa talking to Owen.She smiled and put her hand on his arm, and he blushed and backed away, and I knew right away from these interactions: the two of them fucked too.Pipa and Owen.Did no one else see it?When people get together and I observe them, they all look blind.Even Estelle was no exception. On a rainy day, I went to Owen's bedroom to study his photographic works. Since the last glimpse, I have been obsessed with it.It's all black and white, somewhat blurred, arty, and contrived, full of water, charred trees, and posters half torn from the walls.But the picture of the woman is so different that I can barely move, with a harsh breath in my throat.I thought to myself: Owen, you bastard.You are no different from me.You think you are doing art, but you are actually making erotic pictures.Although it is not a color photo, it cannot change the essence of eroticism.This makes me laugh.In the name of art, he tricked women into taking off their clothes.Then I found a picture of a disfigured woman.I took it to the window to have a closer look.I have to admit, he has a knack for it.He really has two brushes.I'm so jealous of him.I run my fingers over each cut.I thought to myself: Now I understand you.I know you, but you don't know me.

I heard the downstairs door open and someone talking: Estelle and Owen.I put the photo back where it was, walked out the door quickly, went upstairs to my room, and lay down on the bed.I could hear them whispering in the hallway, and then the two walked up the stairs in unison.I hugged myself and closed my eyes.The rain beat against the windows with the wind, but I felt like it was raining in my head too.When the two of them walked into Owen's room, they would be surrounded by those photos together.I imagined the naked woman under Owen's lens, and then imagined Estelle and Owen seeing each other honestly, and suddenly felt something swell in my mind.I crept down a flight of stairs and eavesdropped outside their door.Estelle is talking.What to say?I put my ear to the door.

Your women have no face. Turns out he showed her the photo.Then I couldn't hear what they were saying; only murmurs, first his, then hers.Then there was silence.Damn silence.The only source of sound was the roar in my head. Sometimes things come together like they were meant to be.You don't plan ahead, but you are ready and ready to go, and you let planning come to you like a gift from heaven. I happened to be near the horse and jockey the next day at Astrid's usual off-duty hour.So I went into the bar and looked around the house looking for her.She wasn't in the shop, so I turned and left.

David.Dude, come over here! That was one of her cycling buddies.Although I have met him several times, and he always treats me like an old friend for many years, I still can't remember his name. I walk up to the group of people. Are you looking for Estelle?he asked. It just happened to pass by. Yeah?He grinned knowingly that she wasn't here.But you are still welcome to come, let me buy you a drink. Why are you so generous all of a sudden?asked another bike courier, with a cropped head and a nose ring. Queen Ingrid tipped me today.Can you imagine? Queen Ingrid?The guy with the flat head asked puzzledly.

You know.That surname is De.Soto, the woman who lives in the mansion in Hagrid Fortress. Her bronzed skin really shows that she's on vacation every day. She tips you?Why give?Extra service? Everyone started to giggle, even the two girls. Not so lucky.She is asking me to help move the furniture.David, what would you like to drink? Half pints of lager, I said, don't they have a servant to help? It looked like no one else was there. I sat in the warm and comfortable room, sipping beer slowly, whether they were smiling or laughing, I followed suit and followed suit. At the same time, I also paid attention to Estelle's figure, and my thoughts began to wander.

The next morning, I bought a map from a newsstand by the side of the road, took the subway to Hagrid, and with the map in hand, I walked like a tourist, all the way up the hill.Finally I found myself in a good spot from which I could look down and look down on other people who were running about in the sweltering city. From Main Street you can turn into Century Road, and I can find De.Soto's mansion: the main house is some distance from the road, hidden behind the iron fence, the siren flashes above the balcony door, and the high windows glow in the morning light.There are two cars parked in the front yard, Juguar and Range Rover, which should belong to the male and female owners.I looked around and suddenly felt very uncomfortable.Standing on a residential street, gazing at a mansion, seems suspiciously silly.I walked along the road, crossed a square, and ended up in a shopping street.I bought a newspaper and a cup of coffee, went back to Century Road, and then sat on the side of the road, sipping coffee and pretending to read the newspaper.Now I look like a terribly boring, explainable, forgettable person.

At 7:40 a man in a suit went out and got into his car and drove it down the hill.I sipped my empty cup of coffee and actually started reading the paper.An explosion occurred in a market in Baghdad.A train crashes in Egypt.At eight twenty-five the postman entered the gate and walked up the driveway.He pressed the bell and spoke into the small walkie-talkie.After a while, the door opened and he stepped forward.He held a package in his hand, and the man who answered the door disappeared in the shadows.He turned away, and I caught a glimpse of a woman disappearing into the house, back into a world she thought was safe.The door closes.

Apparently I couldn't come in so abruptly.There might be some kind of alarm in the house that I don't know about.I had to be invited in, and I had to make sure that she was alone in the house, that there were no other workers, housekeepers, or gardeners.This is a challenge.I pondered for a moment, and then felt a surge of excitement in my heart.I stood up and carefully stuffed the newspaper and coffee cup into the trash.Littering will attract attention. When I have a decision, I can't wait to put it into action, but I have to stay up all day and night first.It took me about an hour to get to the gallery where Melanie and Laura worked.I opened the door and entered the quiet and cool room.There were no guests inside, but Laura and Melanie were there.Melanie was wearing a cotton print dress that Estelle couldn't kill for wearing.She wore pink lipstick and looked like a kid getting ready for a birthday party. Dawei, she blushed and reached out to straighten her hair. I didn't expect you to come! How could you have expected that?I said rudely, hi Laura. Hello, Davy.The way she looked at me made me feel angry. These prices are not cheap, right?As I spoke, I flicked a painting dismissively with my fingers. this as long as you Can we find a place where we can talk privately? You can go to the pantry, Laura said, we're not too busy anyway. Melanie led me to the back.Through the frosted glass I could see Laura's figure moving around the gallery, and I could hear her shoes clicking on the wooden floor. David, are you okay?Melanie asked. why not? I thought you would never talk to me again. Well, am I here? I am anxious.As she spoke, she took a step forward and looked up.Her expression was anxious yet hopeful.I knew she wanted me to kiss her, to give her a kiss of pure tenderness, to reassure her of my love. I didn't kiss her, but under the shadeless lightbulb, surrounded by boxed files, against the beeping, whirring computer, I lifted up her printed dress and took off her dainty white Underpants, slipped over practical loafers, and tucked into my jacket pocket.I put my hands between her legs.She tried to stop me.Her eyes were frantic and she struggled quietly, watching the door behind me.Then she stopped struggling and I unzipped my trousers and inserted the dick into her.Before long, when it was done, she wrapped her arms around my neck and buried her face in my chest, saying whatever she said was okay, she understood, she loved me, and was glad I found her place to work.She kissed my lips, called me darling, took me by the hand and led me back to the gallery store, unkempt and proud. I tried to be nice.Tried to be empathetic.But it didn't work.But when you're cruel and uncaring, they'll like you for it.If you treat them badly and unkindly, they will fall in love with you.This is their own shame.