"Jane S. Fancher - Upstart" - читать интересную книгу автора (Fancher Jane S)

UPSTART
By
Jane S. Fancher
copyright 1992 J.S.Fancher
The room was growing a bit tawdry around the edges---curtains fraying, cracks
in the stained-glass windows, a stain on the couch the maids could not get
out---still, Diana called it home.
Far more dismaying was her own physical state. It had been such a long winter.
"Getting downright anorexic, darling." Mammon came up behind her, examined his
own face for wrinkles or (worse) spots, winced at her reflection, and
retreated from the mirror.
"For gods' sakes, man, remember the year. That term won't be in vogue for
another---" Oh dear, what year was it? '68 . . . '78 . . . '88. "---at least
fifteen years. I'm---twiggish. Quite fashionably thin."
"You look like a rail.
"Difficult to argue with the truth. And speaking of Truth . . .
Sweeping her voluminous robes into an elegant swirl around her feet, she
turned full about on the vanity stool to smile sweetly across the posh Hilton
suite. "And you, my dear, look like a fat---you should pardon the
expression---toad." With the grace only eons of battles (verbal and otherwise)
lost and won could achieve, she rose to her feet. "I'm starving. Shall we
go?"
And as they strolled arm in comfy arm through the suite to the door: "What are
we doing today? ---American tourists? ---Oh, good."
Mammon opened the door and the cool draft from the excessively airconditioned
hallway brushed her bare knees.
***
The daily squeeze in the Hotel Diana lobby was well underway by the time they
arrived.
"I don't know why you always insist on eating here," Mammon grumbled, turning
sideways to avoid a tourist armed with 50 pounds of camera equipment. "The
food is mediocre at best."
"Only because you've developed a taste for American grease-burgers, darling."
Diana paused, admiring the tall statue holding court at the far end of the
lobby, an admirably accurate recreation of one of the ancient statues
excavated from the nearby ruins of Ephesus. "Do you honestly wonder, my dear?
How many of us have been so honored in this century?" She cocked her head,
trying a different angle on the many-breasted statue. "Goodness, that would be
painful at that time of the month. My male worshippers always did get a
bit---carried away. Seems to me four would be sufficient to make the---"
Across the jammed lobby, at one of the coffee shop tables: "Oh, look. He's
here. Somehow I knew he'd be."
She pulled Mammon through the crush as smoothly as his girth would allow.
"Just a minute," he growled, and dug in his heels beside the news stand.
"Isn't he sweet!" she murmured, tapping her foot impatiently, while Mammon
negotiated the price of the Wall Street Journal. "I think, perhaps, it's time
I approached him. What do you think?"
He ignored her, involved in arguing over the cover price. Why, just this once,
he couldn't simply pay the man . . .
"Find us a table, will you, darling?" she said, and drifted away, slowly