"Robb, J D - In Death 03 - Immortal in Death" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robb J D)

"Give it a chance, Eve."
For Mavis, she allowed Leonardo to lead her under and around falls of material
and into an equally cluttered workstation on the far side of the loft.
The computer made her feel a little better. Those she understood. But the
drawings it had generated, which were pinned and tacked to every available
space, made her heart sink.
Fuchsia and spangles would have been a relief.
The models with their long, exaggerated bodies looked like mutants. Some were
sporting feathers, others stones. A few were wearing what could have been
clothes, but in such outrageous styles -- pointed collars, skirts the size of
washcloths, unisuits snug as skin -- they looked like participants in a
Halloween parade.
"Examples for my first show. High fashion is a twist on reality, you see. The
bold, the unique, the impossible."
"I love them."
Eve curled her lip at Mavis and folded her arms. "It's going to be a small,
simple ceremony, at home."
"Um." Leonardo was already at his computer, using the keyboard with impressive
skill. "Now this..." He brought up an image that made Eve's blood chill.
The dress was the color of fresh urine, ringed with flounces of mud brown from
its scalloped neck to its knifepoint hem that dripped with stones the size of a
child's fist. The sleeves were so snug Eve was certain anyone wearing it would
loose all feeling in their fingers.
As the image turned, she was treated to a view of the back, dipping past the
waist and trimmed in floaty feathers.
"... is not at all for you," Leonardo finished, and indulged in a deep belly
laugh at Eve's blanched skin. "I apologize. I couldn't resist. For you... just a
sketch, you understand. Slim, long, simple. Only a column. Not too delicate."
He continued to speak as he worked. On the screen, lines and shapes began to
form. Sticking her hands in her pockets, Eve watched.
It looked so easy, Eve mused. Long lines, the most subtle of accents at the
bodice, sleeves that came to soft, rounded points just at the back of the hand.
Still uneasy, she waited for him to start to add the gingerbread.
"We'll fuss with it a bit," he said absently, and again turned the image to show
a back as sleek and elegant as the front, with a slit to the knees. "You
wouldn't want a train."
"A train?"
"No." He only smiled, flicking a glance up at her. "You wouldn't. A headdress.
Your hair."
Used to derogatory comments, Eve ran her fingers through it. "I can cover it up
if I have to."
"No, no, no. It suits you."
Her hand dropped in shock. "It does?"
"Indeed. You need a bit of shaping. I know someone -- " He flicked that aside.
"But the color, all those tones of brown and gold, and the short, not quite
tamed style is very good on you. A couple of snips." Eyes narrowed, he studied
her. "No, no headdress, no veil. Your face is enough. Now, color and material.
It must be silk, of a good weight." He grimaced a little. "Mavis tells me Roarke
will not be paying."
Eve's back went up. "It's my dress."