"Elrod, P N - Vampire Files 09 - Lady Crymsyn E-Txt" - читать интересную книгу автора (Elrod P N)

who could pick and choose his work. The Lady had only existed in my head, but
his vision of her in oils made me believe her to be real.
A full-length portrait of a woman in a sweeping red gown, she looked down upon
all lesser mortals with a sultry, striking face that expressed both mystery and
seductive glamour. Yet her eyes sparkled with a kind of not-so-secret humor,
making her approachable. The idea was for every man to want her and for every
woman to want to be like her. Alex Adrian had outdone himself so far as I was
concerned, and I judged the painting to be well worth the bundle I'd spent for
it.
"You wouldn't happen to have gotten the model's phone number?" Escott asked
after a moment of slack-jawed shock.
"I think Alex made her up, but on opening night I'll have a look-alike dressed
exactly the same acting as hostess, you can try your luck with her."
"I shall do so," he solemnly promised.
We pushed on to the main area. What had been a one-story room was now two
stories high since I'd had the crew demolish a large section of ceiling. Three
broad tiers of deep, half-circle booths rose to fill the space with chrome
divider rails between each level. The main color was dark red, of course.
I'd borrowed the idea of a multilevel horseshoe seating arrangement from Gordy's
club. But instead of entering at the top tier and walking down to the dance
floor, I'd reversed it. When you came in you could look up and see nearly the
whole place. Anyone seated at the dozens of booths above also had the advantage
of being able to check out new arrivals. I figured this might appeal to a
certain type of customer who preferred not to sit with his back to a door. This
place could easily seat about three hundred of them, four with the spare tables.
A bar on each side of the room would serve them all.
The big dance floor had a fancy pattern of different kinds and colors of wood,
and the stage two feet above it sported the same motif. It was thirty feet wide
and almost as deep, which would allow space enough for nearly any act I cared to
book, from a full band to a solo singer. In the center stood a white baby grand
piano, protected for the time being by a canvas dust sheet. I'd already had in a
special stage crew to set up the lights and microphone system. Because of it,
there wasn't a bad seat in the house.
"My God," Escott repeated. He'd noticed the liberal use of red velvet
upholstery, polished white-and-black marble tabletops, crystal chandeliers, and
wall sconces. Gordy had also recommended a decorator.
"Class all the way," I said with a grin.
"I had no idea you were taking things this far. Most impressive."
"And this is with the dust still in the air. Wait'll opening night, when
everything's all polished."
"I'll mark my calendar. What is Miss Smythe's opinion of it?"
"She's been helping. I let her have her way with the backstage dressing rooms.
The performers are gonna think they died and went to heaven. She can't wait to
sing here."
"There can't be that much space, though." Escott had been onstage himself once,
and had an appreciation for the hardships of show business.
"I've got four good rooms with showers for the head-liners up on this level and
cellar dressing areas for anyone else. We're still working on getting that
cleared out so the plumbing can go in."
"You have thought it through quite nicely."