J. Robb - Immortal in Death

She'd already been felt up by a stylist, Eve decided. Why not stand naked in a roomful of people? She shrugged out of the robe.

Leonardo came at her with something white and sleek. Before she could do much more than squeak, he had it around her torso and snugged at her back. His big hands reached under the material, fussily adjusted her breasts. Bending down, he drew a swatch of material between her legs, secured it, stepped back.

"Ah."

"Holy hell, Dallas. Roarke's tongue's going to land on his feet when he gets you down to that"

"What the hell is it?"

"A variation on the old Merry Widow." With quick nips and tucks, Leonardo perfected the fit. "I call it a Curvaceous. Added a bit of lift under the breasts for you. Yours are quite nice, but this line adds more contour. Just a touch of lace, a few pearls. Nothing too ornate." He turned her to face the mirror.

She looked sexy, curvy. Ripe, Eve realized with some amazement. The material had a faint gleam to it, as though it was damp. It nipped at her waist, molded her hips, and, she had to admit, lifted her bustline to new, fascinating heights.

"Well… I guess… for, you know, wedding nights."

"For any nights," Mavis said dreamily. "Oh, Leonardo. Are you going to make me one?"

"I already have, in Rascal Red satin. Now, Dallas, does it pinch anywhere? Rub?"

"No." She couldn't get over it. It should have been torturous, but it was as comfortable as a sprint suit. Experimentally she bent, twisted. "It's just sort of there."

"Excellent. Biff found the material at a little cottage shop on Richer Five. Now the dress. It's only basted, so we take care. Lift your arms, please."

He slipped it over her, let it float down. The material was stunning. Eve could see that, even when it was streaked with tailor's marks. It seemed perfect to her, the sleek column, the snug sleeves, the simple line, but Leonardo creased his brow and tugged at the material, folded, bunched.

"The neckline works, yes. Where is the necklace?"

"Huh?"

"The copper and stone necklace. Didn't I tell you to ask for it?"

"I can't just tell Roarke I want a necklace."

Leonardo sighed, turned Eve around, and exchanged a look with Mavis. He nodded, then tested the line at Eve's hips.

"You've lost weight," he accused.

"No, I haven't."

"Yes, at least two pounds." He clucked his tongue. "I won't take it in yet. See that you put them back on."

Biff marched over and held a bolt of material next to her face. With a nod, he marched away, muttering into his notebook.

"Biff, would you show her the other designs while I note the adjustments to the gown?"

With a flourish, Biff switched on a wall monitor. "As you can see, Leonardo has taken both your lifestyle and your body line into consideration with these designs. This simple day suit is perfect for a corporate lunch, a press conference, unrestricted, yet tres, tres chic. The material we're using is a blended linen with just a whisper of silk. The color is citrine with trim of garnet."

"Uh-huh." It looked like a nice, simple suit to Eve, but it was a jolt to see the computer-generated image of herself modeling it. "Biff?"

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"Why do you have a map tattooed on your head?"

He smiled. "I have a very poor sense of direction. Now this next design continues the theme."

She viewed a dozen. They blurred together in her mind. Rayspan in citrus lemon, Breton lace with velvet, classic black silk. Every time Mavis oohed or aahed, Eve ordered recklessly. What was being in debt for the rest of her life compared to her closest friend's peace of mind?

"That'll keep you two busy awhile." The minute Leonardo slipped the dress back off, Trina bundled Eve into the robe. "Let's take a look at the crowning glory." After unwinding the turban, she pulled a wide forked comb out of her twirling curls and began to pick, smooth, and fluff.

Eve's initial relief that she had hair to be fussed with faded quickly as she stared directly at a snaking pink spring. "Who does your hair, Trina?"

"Nobody touches me but me." She winked. "And God. Take a look."

Braced for the worst, Eve turned. The woman in the mirror was definitely Eve Dallas. At first she thought it had all been some elaborate joke, and nothing had been done at all. Then she looked closer, stepped closer. Gone were the wild tufts and stray spikes. Her hair was still casually cropped, unstructured, but it seemed to have a shape after all. And certainly it hadn't had that pretty shine before. It followed the lines of her face nicely, the fringe of bangs, the curve at the cheeks. And when she shook her head it fell back into place obediently.

Eyes narrowed, she raked fingers through it and watched it tumble back. "Did you put blond in it?"

"Nope. Natural highlights. Brought them out with Sheena, that's all. You got deer hair."

"What?"

"Ever seen a deer hide? It's got all those colors from russet, brown, gold, even touches of black. That's what you've got there. God's been good to you. Trouble is, whoever's been doing you must have been using hedge trimmers and no highlight puncher, either."

"It looks good."

"Damn right it does. I'm a genius."

"You look beautiful." Suddenly, Mavis put her face in her hands and wept. "You're getting married."

"Oh, Christ, don't do that, Mavis. Come on." Feeling helpless, Eve gave her encouraging pats on the back.

"I'm so drunk, and I'm so happy. And I'm so scared. Dallas, I lost my job."

"I know, baby. I'm sorry. You'll get another one. A better one."

"I don't care. I don't care. I'm not going to care. We're going to have the most mag wedding, aren't we, Dallas?"

"You bet."

"Leonardo's making me the most rocking dress. Let's show her, Leonardo."

"Tomorrow." He came over, scooped her into his arms. "Dallas is tired."

"Oh, yeah. She needs to rest." Mavis let her head loll on his shoulder. "She works too hard. She's worried about me. I don't want her to worry, Leonardo. Everything's going to be fine, isn't it? It's going to be fine."

"Just fine." Leonardo sent Eve one last uneasy look before he carried Mavis off.

Eve watched them go, sighed. "Fuck."

"Like that sweet little thing could bash anybody's face in." Trina scowled as she gathered up her tools. "I hope Pandora's burning in hell."

"You knew her?"

"Everybody in the business knew her. Loathed her ever fucking guts. Right, Biff?"

"She was born a bitch, died a bitch."

"Did she just use, or did she deal?"

Biff slanted a look at Trina, then shrugged. "She never dealt in the open, but you'd hear talk now and again that she was always well supplied. The buzz was she was an Erotica junkie. She liked sex, and she might deal to her partner of choice."

"Were you ever her partner of choice?"

He smiled. "Romantically, I prefer men. They're less complicated."

"How about you?"

"I prefer men, too – same reason. So did she." Trina picked up her kit. "Last runway gig I had, the gossip was she was mixing business and pleasure. Had some guy she was bleeding. She was flashing a lot of new glitters. Pandora liked to decorate her body with real rock, but she didn't like to pay for it. People figured she'd made some deal with a source."

"Got a name on the source?"

"Nope, but she was on her palm 'link between changes all day. That was about three months ago. I don't know who she was talking to, but at least one of the calls was intergalactic, because she got royally pissed at the delay."

"Did she always carry a palm 'link?"

"Everybody in fashion and beauty does, honey. We're just like doctors."

It was close to midnight when Eve settled down at her desk. She couldn't face the bedroom, preferred the suite she used for privacy and work. She programmed coffee, then forgot to drink it. Without Feeney, she had no choice but to go a roundabout route to try to trace a three-month-old intergalactic call from a palm 'link she didn't have.