"duane,.dianne.-.spider.man.-.octopus.agenda" - читать интересную книгу автора (Duane Diane)

"A thousand bucks a day. I think you can probably take a fair amount
of it."

Peter sighed at the memory and blew out so big a breath that bubbles
blew off the top layer of suds. From the next room came the sound of a
cheerful woman la-laing to herself as she rubbed cream into her hands.
Peter had to be amused by it. Normally MJ couldn't have cared less
about her hands, at least in terms of doing anything to them in the
course of a day. But the photographer on the shoot she was presently
working had yelled at her that she needed to be "moister," and after
some confusion on all sides, it was discovered that he meant he wanted
her to use more moisturizer. So she had begun doing so, and had
started meet inga couple of other hand models whom the director of the
present project suggested she have a chat with. Suddenly, on their
advice, the house had begun filling up

with--Peter rolled his eyes a little, in amusementmtubs and pots and
bottles and heaven only knew what else.

Still, the timing suited him. Peter had made a fair pile of money from
the pictures he took of Spider-Man in the attack on the Space Shuttle
at the Cape, and the resolution of that attack. The picture that had
caught the bomb going off after it had been dropped into the
flame-suppression tank at the bottom of the Shuttle launch facility had
made the front page of the Bugle, much to his delight, and he had
picked up a bonus for it. But that bonus and the money from the AP
wire, wouldn't last him forever. MJ had satisfied herself that the
Miami modeling scene wasn't everything it was cracked up to be in terms
of steady work, so, happily enough, they had come home again when both
their assignments were donemonly to find that instead of having a few
days to call their own, MJ had to go straight out and spend ten to
twelve hours a day with her hands artistically decked in what the ad
described as "Ever-Loon' Bubbles." It was just dishwashing detergent,
which Peter found it beyond his ability to love even temporarily, let
alone forever. But at a thousand bucks a day .... He felt around under
the water for the soap. Things could have been a lot worse. They had
been a lot worse, but after this last stint of work, each of them had
managed to contribute enough money to the household kitty to get the
credit cards paid down--at least to the point where they could use them
and to put a small but reassuring lump into their joint savings
account. It was a little bit weird, actually, to feel somewhat secure,
to feel that for the next little while, they didn't have to scramble
desperately just to keep groceries in the kitchen and the landlord
happy.

Peter looked forward to spending the next few weeks doing

assignment work at the Bugle again, and having the leisure, as
Spider-Man, to web-swing normally again, among proper tall buildings
placed close together, in a city where he knew his way around, and in a