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

October:

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Acknowledgments
Writing is such a solitary endeavor, I’m always grateful for my online friends who keep me sane while I’m writing a book. For years the ladies at RBL Romantica (www.rbhomantica.com) have done a magnificent job of supporting romance books and then writers, and I am truly grateful to be considered one of “their” authors. RBLs, I salute you.


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Sunday

August 29

Early morning-ish

Seattle




“Hello?”

“Do you still have long hair? You haven’t cut it since I last saw you?”

That’s how it started: with an inquiry into the status of my hair. I hope that doesn’t say something about how the whole thing is going to proceed. Hair is just so trivial. In the grand scale of things, that is—it’s certainly important when it looks awful and you have to run to the store to pick up a fifth of whiskey and a bottle of Pamprin.

“Yes, I do still have long hair. Why?”

“Oh, good, you’d hate the wig. I heard it smells. You have a valid passport too, right? Didn’t you go to Mazatlan last year?”

I twined a strand of the aforementioned hair around my finger and glared at the phone. Why on earth had Pierce called me up to inquire about my hair and Mazatlan?

“Yes, I do and I did. What wig? Why are you asking me all these questions? And when did you get back? I thought you were in London working for the BBC.”

“Oh, I left them. They had no scope, no scope at all. I’m still in London, but I’m working for an independent channel now. Excellent! I knew you’d be perfect for this. I’m overnighting a package to you. You can read the notes and the rule book on the plane, ‘K?”

I blinked a couple of times hoping it would aid my thought processes in straightening out the tangled mess of his conversation. It didn’t help. “What package? What plane? Pierce, what are you talking about?”

He sighed noisily in my ear, then muttered something about never understanding women. “It’s all very fabu and you’re going to love it, and you won’t believe the strings I had to pull to get this for you, but the job pays ten thousand dollars, and since I owe you big time, I moved heaven and hell and got the job for you. You can thank me later; right now you have to pack. But not much, because they’ll take your measurements on Tuesday and should have the basic necessities done by Wednesday, Thursday at the latest. You’re still an eighteen, right? I can tell them that, and they’ll get started.”