"Charlaine Harris - Dancers in the Dark" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harris Charlaine)

"In there." There were some louver-doored enclosures on one side of the room, much like
changing rooms in a department store. Rue entered a cubicle. It was easy to slide out of the
oversize clothes and the battered lace-up boots, a real pleasure to pull on black tights, a deep
plum leotard and fluttering wrap skirt to give the illusion of a dress while she danced. She sat on
a stool to put on T-strap heels, called character shoes, then stood to smile experimentally at her
reflection in the mirror. Head up, chest out, shoulders square, big smile, pretty hands, she
repeated silently. Rue took the clip out of her hair and brushed it until it fell in a heavy curtain
past her shoulder blades. Her hair was one of her best features. It was a deep, rich brown with an
undertone of auburn. The color almost matched that of her deep-set, dramatic eyes.


Rue only needed her glasses to clarify writing on the blackboard, so she popped them into their
case and slipped it into her backpack. She leaned close to the mirror to inspect her makeup. After
years of staring into her mirror with the confidence of a beautiful girl, she now examined her face
with the uncertainty of a battered woman. There were pictures in a file at her lawyer's office,
pictures of her face bruised and puffy. Her nose-well, it looked fine now.


The plastic surgeon had done a great job.


So had the dentist.
Her smile faltered, dimmed. She straightened her back again. She couldn't afford to think about
that now. It was showtime. She folded back the door and stepped out.


There was a moment of silence as the four in the room took in Rue's transformation. The darker
vampire looked gratified; the red-haired one's expression didn't change. That pleased Rue.


"You were fooling us," Sylvia said. She had a deep, raspy voice. "You were in disguise." I'd
better remember that Sylvia Dayton is perceptive, Rue told herself. "Well, let's try you on the
dance floor, since you definitely pass in the looks department. By the way, it's Blue Moon you
want to try out for, right? Not Black Moon? You could do very well in a short time with Black
Moon, with your face and body."


It was Blue Moon's ad she'd answered. "Dancer wanted, must work with vamps, have experience,
social skills," the ad had read. "Salary plus tips."


"What's the difference?" Rue asked.


"Black Moon, well, you have to be willing to have sex in public."


Rue couldn't remember the last time she'd been shocked, but she was shocked now. "No!" she