"The Corset Diaries" - читать интересную книгу автора (MacAlister Katie)

“Right behind you, Pee,” Evan answered.

“We’ll stop at the Cock and Cow for a bit of lunch, then go on to the studio.”

“Pee?” I asked Pierce a moment later when Evan scooted around us, heading for a dark blue sedan.

“Isn’t he delicious?” Pierce answered, his gaze resting with wicked intent on the younger man as Evan stuffed my luggage into the trunk. “Such a help, he is. You have simply no idea how useful I find him.”

“Mmm,” I said. “I bet you do. He’s awfully . . . pierced, don’t you think? I mean, even if he is trying to live up to your name, don’t you think having his eyebrows, nose, ears, and lower lip pierced is going a bit too far?”

Pierce snickered and herded me to the side of the car, his voice low and soft as velvet as he whispered, “His tongue is pierced, too. I can’t even begin to tell you how much I enjoy that!”

“Right. I think we’re dipping into the realm of too much information, so I’ll let that pass. About lunch—I couldn’t possibly eat. I think I’m going to be sick as is. Could we just skip all the stuff and go straight to the part where I meet this Roger guy and he takes one look at my fleshy form and laughs hysterically, wiping his eyes just long enough to send me home?”

“Stop it. Roger’s going to love you,” he said as he shoved me into the backseat. I scooted over so he could sit next to me. “You’re perfect for the job, just perfect! You have every quality he’s looking for. You’re intelligent—”

“Thank you,” I murmured, nattered and disbelieving at the same time.

“—and you know just tons about history and all that stuff—”

“It was my major in college.”

“—and you’re American, of course, and related to the Vanderbilts—”

“Distantly,” I pointed out. “Very distantly. And so are a lot of other people.”

“—and most importantly of all, you’re the only one who is free.”

He went on for another minute, giving less and less believable reasons why Roger the producer would love me, but I was stuck on the last point.

“What do you mean I was the only one who is free? You said you moved heaven and hell to get me this job, and now you’re saying the only reason I’m being considered is because no one else can do it? I wasn’t your first choice?”

“Oh, look, we’re coming into town. That didn’t take long, did it? Traffic around here is normally the pits. How much farther to the Cock and Cow, Evan?”

I sat back and thought about giving in to a pout. The way Pierce evaded my question was answer enough— obviously, I was not the first choice as a replacement. Of course I wasn’t. What was I thinking?

Lunch looked good. I don’t know if it was, because I decided the only way I was going to get through the day was if I had a little liquid courage, so accordingly, I drank my lunch. I poured martini after martini down my throat until a blessed numbness set in. Pierce stopped me after the third one, which may not sound like much, but trust me, for me it was. By the time Pierce caught me sucking the last bit of gin from the olive’s toothpick, it was too late.

“I like olives. Don’t you like olives? I really like olives. They’re so olivey,” I said to him as he hauled me outside to where Evan was waiting with the car. “Olive. Even the name is good. Oooooooooolive. Isn’t it nummy? You’re nummy too, Pierce. It’s just too bad you don’t like girls, ‘cause I bet a lot of them would olive you. You have a really nice face.” I gave his face a pat, just to show him that I really liked it and wasn’t just saying it to be nice.

Pierce shoved me into the car, muttering under his breath something about people who have no tolerance for alcohol knowing better than to drink martinis.

“But I’m better now,” I protested, wondering how one of my legs had found its way onto his lap. “I never used to be able to drink, but I can now. I’ve been practicing. I can have a whole bottle of beer without getting silly now, and I couldn’t do that when we shared that apartmen‘ on Queen Anne Hill. ’Member that apartmen‘?”

“Remind me never to volunteer to help Roger again, will you?” Pierce asked Evan. He pushed my leg off his lap. “And as soon as we get to the studio, I want you to find some coffee—black—and bring it to the wardrobe room. Six or seven cups of it.”

I tipped my head back and started singing “Werewolves of London.”

Pierce shuddered. “Make that twenty cups.”