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

"Only in the public johns and dressing rooms." I'd just avoid them.

A double doorway sporting red velvet curtains led into the main club area. We went through, and Escott
stopped cold.

"My God," he said. He was rarely awestruck. I enjoyed the moment.

On the wall opposite the entry was a larger-than-life-size painting of Lady Crymsyn herself, meant to be
the symbolic personification of the club. I'd commissioned it from Alex AdrianтАФyeah,that Alex Adrian,
the world-famous artist 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."