ignored her. Once the man did a series of quick impersonal measurements with a tape, and several times models came in wearing one item or another. Then a cloud of assistants descended and bore her off to fitting chambers, expanses large as a living-room; fine chairs and rugs, and only the mirrors and mannequin stands and the sewing station that let down from the wall to show their purpose. Tucks, pins, hems, voices advising: “This skirt is just right for madam, but it needs to be longer, Madam has such elegant legs, she can carry off the longer length as other women can’t…”
Another: “This slip goes with this dress and it will be better if we change your bra. The thong will show-let’s use the elastex full undergarment instead… These pantyhose… try these shoes, Miss Tarnowski, no, I think the satin Eau de Nile slippers are better for this one…”
One of the assistants flipped up her BlackBerry: “Jack? Shoes. Size seven and half medium, satin Eau de Nile, evening and dancing… Bring five or six examples…”
But they aren’t really treating me like an object, Ellen thought suddenly, as one of them stepped back glowing with enthusiasm and clapped her hands together.
These are artists at work. They’re having fun. They’ve been turned loose in a candy store with a gold card. Or they’re painters suddenly given the key to the supply closet. That’s why they keep asking me too.
“Madam is a true champagne blond, very natural, very beautiful,” one said around the pins clenched between her lips. “Your complexion can carry off many difficult colors, even this sunset pink, most women would kill to have madam’s figure; it makes dressing you a pleasure… God, if you only knew what we have to do to make some of the cows who come in here look like human beings. Talk about being masters of disguise-the CIA have nothing on us… Someone get Margaret and tell her to bring her emergency kit!”
Margaret guided her to one of the chairs and put a towel around her shoulders and went to work on her hair.
“My God, it’s all real,” she said, fingers and comb deft. “Look at this color, and the density! You could grow this to your ankles like a silk waterfall if you wanted. But what have you been doing with it, madam?”
More clothing, and double doors opened to show a long corridor nearly as wide as a room. Ellen walked down it, with the critical group spacing themselves out to see how the outfits looked at a distance as well. At the end around the ell was an ironing board and cleaning station. Jean-Charles made an occasional entry at discreet moments, spoke an imperial word and left.
“Good,” he said at last.
She’d returned to the original room, feeling oddly diminished in her jeans and T.
He made a final note and turned to Adrienne: “That’s settled, then. A final fitting? In any case, we should have the complete ensemble ready by… oh, the end of the week. You have priority, of course.”
“Your work is always right the first time,” Adrienne said. “In any case, I have perfectly competent seamstresses at home when it’s a matter of tiny adjustments to a hem. It’s your creative genius I need. Also, of course, a few things for her right away. I appeal to you, my old friend!”
Jean-Charles turned to her, tapping his hand on his chin. “A fire, you say,” he muttered. “Pauvre petite! ”
Then, decisively: “You are wandering around our windy city in that junk, a girl of my own daughter’s age!”
He snapped his fingers. “Martha! The brown and turquoise running suit with a pale blue shell and a tan shell, the ones Richarda models. Also, bring the off-royal blue wool dress, the camel coat… Francisco wanted to change the design on that anyway. Grab those nice lined wool slacks… in a dark olive and a chocolate, and one of the asymmetrical jackets in that dark ivy and black pattern. We should have two or three silk blouses in tan, lilac and green, oh, and that twinset in nile. That should help! You cannot be with nothing but those jeans. Just a few things to tide you over this week.”
Ellen found herself flushing. “Merci, Monsieur,” she said, trying for her best pronunciation. “Vous?tes si tr?s gentils. So very kind.”
He really is, she thought, her eyes prickling a little. I haven’t had much of that lately.
“It is nothing,” he said, smiling at her. “I am merely following my trade.”
Adrienne smiled herself and pulled a checkbook out of her handbag. Hats, gloves and pantyhose appeared as if by magic, and Ellen tried to pay attention.
I have to wear them, after all.
“Good deeds should not go unrewarded.”
She filled in the check. Then she tore it from the book and slid it across the table to the man.
“After Mademoiselle Tarnowski’s so-gracious words, I feel like a whore to charge anything,” he said. “But one must live.”
“You are a grande horizontale in the ancient mode, Jean-Charles,” she said; they laughed and exchanged another set of cheek-kisses.
“I am a veritable Liane de Pougy, then! I shall write a novel about our liaison!”
They were laughing together as the assistants reappeared with his list, to bear Ellen off one more time.
At least I feel less conspicuous walking beside her, Ellen thought when they came out onto the street.
She’d been chilly before. The fine double-knit merino wool of the running suit and the knit silk shell fit like her own skin, but they were supremely comfortable as well.
And this stuff feels fabulous. Like my clothes are stroking my skin all the time.
Ahead steepness fell away to show the Golden Gate Bridge soaring above water royal blue, and the hills of Marin green with the winter rains. It was sunny but brisk, and she was glad of the suit’s jacket. She put her free hand in the right pocket; Adrienne had her left again, swinging it like a happy child as they walked.
Though inconspicuous is an odd way to feel considering I’m wearing six months’ salary.
“Or conspicuous in the same way as others,” Adrienne observed.
“Why are you doing this?” Ellen asked, genuinely curious.
“Well, we could have stayed in and found other ways to pass the time until my meeting. The replacements for all that… equipment you lost have arrived by now, I’m sure. There’s that nine-thonged braided silk whip with the delightfully explicit dual-purpose handle…”
Errrk! Ellen thought, flushing with a complex play of emotions.
“I wasn’t objecting, Adrienne! Ah, it’s weird, but yeah, I like the clothes. They’re fun. I’ve always gone funky before because it was what I could afford.”
“Well, even wearing a burlap potato sack you would look like Aphrodite rising from the waves.”
“Ah… thanks.”
“No, truly. You should develop a more positive self-image. And, of course, you are supremely bite-able, which is a matter of the psyche and mind as much as the body, though physical beauty helps. Have you noticed how much Michiko wanted to drink your blood, even though she was sated? I think nearly every Shadowspawn you meet will. Adrian certainly would have too. How it would have tortured him, the scent, the pulse beating so close to his lips! You are like a sweet, fragrant golden peach one longs to taste.”
“Ah… thanks, I suppose.”
I think. Sort of. That’s sort of eerie and creepy and… thinking of Adrian… sad. If I’d known… I mean, if I’d known and hadn’t run screaming for the hills… Poor Adrian! I was teasing him all the time and I didn’t know it. He must have willpower like titanium steel.
“I like having beautiful things,” the Shadowspawn went on, giving her hand a squeeze. “You deserve the proper settings. Also there are some… social engagements coming up, if things go well. I want to show you off to best advantage-for yourself, and as a sort of subtle statement about Adrian. He has quite a reputation as… a person of formidable, dangerous talents, you know.”
“He does?”
“Oh, certainly. He has killed more Shadowspawn than any living… well, more than any corporeal.”
Good for you, Adrian! she thought. You’re the only Shadowspawn I’ve met I don’t want dead!
Adrienne laughed. “I won’t miss most of the ones he got. He very nearly killed me at least once, and vice versa… not unusual for brothers and sisters of our breed. As is passionate love. Love, hate, they are closely linked.”
I wish he had killed you, Ellen thought.
It was automatic, but she winced. Adrienne laughed again, and freed her hand for a moment to administer a slap to the fundament that made her yelp and jump.
