"Karen Koehler - Slayer 03 - Immortal" - читать интересную книгу автора (Koehler Karen)

in the winter months when dancing didnтАЩt pay as well as it should. Not that JP didnтАЩt pay his girls well,
but some of them had expensive habits and the tips they got nightly helped in a big way. And when those
tips werenтАЩt there, wellтАж

The though of money depressed Irena. How did that old joke go? Honey, our money problems are
over. WeтАЩre out of money. She sucked back on the cigarette, kicking herself mentally because she
smoked too much and drank too much and she was using up too much of their money of late. If she kept
this up, she wouldnтАЩt be able to afford school clothes for Lilly next fall. She had to be sensible. And she
did try, she really did, but somehow or other, things always seemed to get away from her.

Lack of Control.

It had always been like that for her, for as long as she could remember. Even as a little girl she could
never eat or drink enough, not that she had ever suffered the consequences of such indulgences. If she
had, this guy would not even be considering her for the job. But the more she indulged the more she
needed. She was a skeleton, and even JP had begun to eye her suspiciously, probably thinking her habits
were sucking the life out of her. But no matter how much she consumed in food, wine, beer, drugs, or
tobacco, none of it made any change in her. And nothing made her happy. SheтАЩd tried it all at one point
or another, and sometimes all at once, but there seemed no point to it anymore; the drugs had no affect
on her. The liquor was wasted. The tobacco only made her crave.

Lately, though, things had gotten worse. She didnтАЩt sleep and nothing tasted good. Probably because of
the damned cigarettes. She had to stop the fucking smoking, she knew, watching the cigarette burn fitfully
between her fingers. The caffeine was driving her crazy. The lack of money was making her crazier than
ever.

тАЬWell, you think about it,тАЭ Mr. Pimp said. тАЬYoung beautiful thing like yourself shouldnтАЩt be wasting your
time on a stage working for peanuts.тАЭ He reached out to touch her hair and Irena instinctively drew back.
Mr. Pimp lowered his hand and instead plucked a card out of his breast pocket, setting all that metal
against his chest to jingling life. тАЬAuditions are on Tuesday,тАЭ he said coolly, dropping the card to the
table.

She looked at the name in gold gilding on the card: Chad Bellerophone, Producer.

тАЬPhoenix?тАЭ

Irena turned to glance at the doorway behind her. Erebus was there with his arms crossed. He looked
imposing, as always. Like always, like a mahogany version of Mr. Clean. The analogy had once made
her giggle. Now it just annoyed her. Erebus was always watching her. Like she wasnтАЩt just employed by
JP but belonged to him, like the sick girls upstairs, the ones who did the fetish work for him. But she tried
to be civilized anyway. тАЬYeah? WhatтАЩs up?тАЭ

тАЬWhoтАЩs this?тАЭ Erebus nodded at Bellerophone.

Irena put her hand over the card. тАЬJust someone who wanted to talk to me.тАЭ

тАЬIтАЩm a fan of the PhoenixтАЩs,тАЭ Bellerophone said, standing. тАЬI wanted to know if she was free Tuesday.тАЭ

тАЬShe works Tuesday nights,тАЭ Erebus said in a barely audible bass growl.