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chapter fifteen
She chose the elevator, wanting to move quickly and privately. She programmed it for the short vertical glide, then the horizontal shift from wing to wing.
“I’ve got to tell you, you and Roarke have a fantastic place here. Just ultra mag.”
“Oh, it’ll do until we find something bigger.” She said it dryly and refused to let his laughter grate on her nerves. “Tell me, Jess, did you decide to work with Mavis, seriously, before or after you knew the connection with Roarke?”
“I told you, Mavis is one in a million. Only had to see her a couple of times, doing a short gig down at the Down and Dirty to know we’d meld well.” The grin flashed. Charming. A choirboy holding a frog under his robe. “It sure didn’t hurt a thing that she had a contact like Roarke on her side. But she had to have the goods.”
“But you knew about the connection before.”
He moved a shoulder. “I’d heard about it. That’s why I went down to see her. That kind of club isn’t my usual venue. But she flashed for me. If I can move her into some hot gigs, then if Roarke, or someone of his ilk, let’s say, is interested in investing in a coming act, it smooths everybody.”
“You’re smooth, Jess.” She stepped out of the car when the doors slid open. “Real smooth.”
“Like I said, I’ve been shaking gigs since I was a kid. I think I got it down.” He looked around the corridor as she led the way. Old art, the real thing, he noted, pricey wood, carpet some craftsman had worn his fingers weaving a century before.
This was money, he thought. The kind that built empires.
At the doorway of her office, she turned. “I don’t know how much he’s got,” she said, reading him perfectly. “And I don’t really care.”
The smile still in place, he lifted a brow, lowered his gaze to the fat tear-shaped diamond lying against the bodice of soft midnight silk. “But you ain’t wearing paste and rags, sugar.”
“I have, and I might again. And Jess?” She flicked off the coded lock. “Don’t call me sugar.”
Eve glided in, nodded to a puzzled but attentive Peabody. “Have a seat,” she told Jess and moved directly to her desk.
“Nice milieu. Well, hi, sweetie.” He couldn’t for the life of him remember her name, but he beamed at Peabody as if they were old, dear friends. “Did you catch the act?”
“Most of it.”
He dropped into a chair. “So, what do you think?”
“I thought it was great. You and Mavis really put on a show.” She risked a smile, not at all sure what Eve wanted from her. “I’m ready to buy the first disc.”
“That’s what I like to hear. Can a guy get a drink in here?” he asked Eve. “I like to stay dry before a performance, and I’m more than ready to get wet.”
“No problem. What would you like?”
“That champagne looked good.”
“Peabody, there should be a bottle in the kitchen. Pour our guest here a glass of wine, will you? And why don’t you get us some coffee?”
She leaned back and considered. Technically, she should record from this point, but she wanted a lead-in before she went on log. “Someone like you, who designs music and the atmosphere surrounding it, has to be as much technician as artist, right? That’s what you were explaining to me before the performance.”
“That’s the way the business shakes down now, has for a lot of years.” He flicked one of his beautiful hands, braceleted with gold. “I’m lucky I’ve got an aptitude for both and an interest. The days of plucking out a tune on the piano or playing a riff on a guitar have gone the way of fossil fuel. Almost extinct.”
“Where’d you get your tech training? I’d have to say it’s way above run of the mill.”
He shot a fresh smile as Peabody came back with the drinks. He was comfortable, relaxed, and assumed he was in the middle of a kind of job interview. “On the job, mostly, a lot of late-night hacking. But I did a stretch of home ed wi
th MIT.”
She already knew some of the data from Peabody’s make, but she wanted to lull him. “Impressive. You’ve made a name for yourself both in performance and design. Isn’t that right, Peabody?”
“Yeah. I’ve got all your discs, and I’m looking forward to something new. It’s been a while.”
“I heard that somewhere.” Eve picked up the ball Peabody was unaware she’d tossed. “Have a dry spell, Jess?”
