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“I’m grateful,” Eve said and meant it. Leonardo was a talented and emerging genius of clothing design. “I didn’t look like Roarke’s rag-picking cousin.”
“You always look like yourself,” Leonardo corrected, but he narrowed his eyes and flipped his fingers through her untidy hair. “You need some work here. If you don’t have it styled every few weeks, it loses shape.”
“I was going to trim it up some, I just—”
“No, no.” He shook his head solemnly, but his eyes twinkled at her. “The days of you hacking at it yourself are over. You call Trina, have her do you.”
“We’ll have to drag her again.” Mavis grinned at everything. “She’ll keep making excuses and start clipping at it with kitchen shears when it gets in her eyes.” She giggled when Leonardo shuddered. “We’ll get Roarke to hound her.”
“I’d be delighted to.” He stepped out of the elevator, walked straight to Eve and, framing her face in his hands, kissed her. “What am I hounding you about?”
“Nothing. Have a drink.” She passed him her bottle.
Instead of drinking, he kissed Mavis in greeting. “I appreciate the invitation. This is quite a setup.”
“Isn’t it mag? The sound system’s ace of the line, and Jess works all kinds of magic with the console. He’s got like six million instruments programmed in. He can play them all, too. He can do anything. The night he came into the D and D changed my life. It was like a miracle.”
“Mavis, you’re the miracle.” Smoothly, Jess led Peabody back toward the group. She was flushed and glassy-eyed. Eve could see the pulse in her throat pounding to its own rhythm.
“Down, girl,” she muttered, but Peabody only rolled her eyes.
“You met Dallas and Peabody, right? And this is Roarke.” Mavis bounced on her stilts. “My closest friends.”
“It’s a genuine pleasure.” Jess offered one of his finely boned hands to Roarke. “I admire your success in the business world and your taste in women.”
“Thank you. I tend to be careful with both.” Roarke scanned the area, inclined his head. “Your studio’s impressive.”
“I love showing it off. It’s been in the planning stages for some time. Mavis is actually the first artist to use it, other than myself. Mary’s going to order food. Why don’t I show you my prize creation before I put Mavis back to work?”
He led the way back to the console, sat at it like a captain at the helm. “The instruments are programmed in, of course. I can call up any number of combinations and vary pitch and speed. It’s accessed for voice command, but I rarely use that. Distracts me from the music.”
He slid controls and had a simple backbeat playing. “Recorded vocals.” He tapped his fingers over buttons and Mavis’s voice punched out, surprisingly gritty and rich. A monitor displayed the sounds with washing of colors and shapes. “I use that for computer analysis. Musicologists”—he flashed a charming, self-deprecating smile—“we can’t help ourselves. But that’s another story.”
“She sounds good,” Eve commented, pleased.
“And she’ll sound better. Overdubbing.” Mavis’s voice split, layered over itself in close harmony. “Layers and fill.” Jess’s hands danced over the controls, drawing out guitars, brass, the jingle of a tambourine, the searing wail of a sax. “Cool it down.” Everything slowed, mellowed. “Heat it up.” Went into double time, blasted.
“That’s all very basic, as is having her duet with recording artists of the past. You’ll have to hear her version of ‘Hard Day’s Night’ with the Beatles. I can also code in any sound.” With a smile flirting around his mouth, he spun a dial, and skimmed his fingers over the keys. Eve’s voice whispered out.
“Down, girl.” The words melded into Mavis’s vocal, repeating, echoing, drifting.
“How did you do that?” Eve demanded.
“I’m miked,” he explained, “and hooked into the console. Now that I have your voice on program, I can have your voice replace Mavis’s.” He skimmed the controls again, and Eve winced when she heard herself singing.
“Don’t do that,” she ordered, and laughing, Jess switched it back.
“Sorry, I can’t resist playing. Want to hear yourself croon, Peabody?”
“No.” Then she gnawed her lip. “Well, maybe.”
“Let’s see, something smoky, understated, and classic.” He worked for a moment, then sat back. Peabody’s eyes rounded when she heard herself quietly torching through “I’ve Got You Under My Skin.”
“Is that one of your songs?” she asked. “I don’t recognize it.”
Jess chuckled. “No, it’s before my time. You’ve got a strong voice, Officer Peabody. Good breath control. Want to quit your day job and join the party?”
She flushed and shook her head. Jess cut out the vocals, tuned the console to a bluesy instrumental. “I worked with an engineer who designed some autotronics for Disney-Universe. It took nearly three years to complete this.” He patted the console like a well-loved child. “Now that I have the prototype and a working unit, I’m hoping to manufacture more. She works on remote, too. I can be anywhere and link up, run the board. I got specs on a smaller, portable unit, and I’ve been working on a mood enhancer.”
