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A Stroke Of Midnight :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 13 из 293The stripper came from the pale blue silk T-shirt that clung to his muscular chest and washboard abs. The pirate came from the fact that he wore a patch over one eye. It wasn’t affectation, but to save the press from seeing what was left after a goblin had torn out his eye, laid scars down a boyishly handsome face. The remaining eye was three rings of blue. He could have used glamour to hide the scars, but when he realized the scars didn’t bother me, he’d stopped bothering. He thought the scars gave him character, and they did.
Rhys had always been a huge film noir fan, and the reporter clearly remembered that. I liked her better for it.
He put one hand flat on the table and the other across my shoulders as he moved into the mike, similar to what Doyle had done. But Rhys knew how to play to the camera better because he’d been doing it longer. He took off the fedora and shook his hair out, so it fell around his shoulders in thick white curls.
“I loved being a detective in L.A.”
“Was it like in the movies?” someone asked.
“Sometimes, but not very much. I ended up doing more bodyguard work than actual detective work.”
The next question was interesting. “There were rumors that some of the stars you and the other guards protected wanted more body than guarding?”
That was a hard one, because a lot of the clients had asked or indicated a willingness for sex. The men had either ignored the invitation or said no. So technically the answer was yes, but if he said yes, then all the semi-famous, or even famous, for whom Rhys had bodyguarded would be in the tabloids tomorrow, and it would be our fault. Our former boss, Jeremy Grey, deserved better than that from us. So did our clients. And the right kind of clients would stay away from Grey’s Detective Agency, and the wrong kind would come and be disappointed.
I leaned into the microphone, and said suggestively, “I’m afraid that Rhys was too busy bodyguarding me to bodyguard anyone else.”
That got me laughter and distracted them all. We were back to sex questions about us, and those we could answer.
“Is Rhys good in bed?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Is the princess good in bed?”
“Very.”
See, easy questions.
“Rhys, have you ever shared a bed with the princess and one of the other guards?”
“Yes.”
Then the reporters started working together. The first reporter tried to ask who with, but Madeline said he’d had his question.
Rhys had always been a huge film noir fan, and the reporter clearly remembered that. I liked her better for it.
He put one hand flat on the table and the other across my shoulders as he moved into the mike, similar to what Doyle had done. But Rhys knew how to play to the camera better because he’d been doing it longer. He took off the fedora and shook his hair out, so it fell around his shoulders in thick white curls.
“I loved being a detective in L.A.”
“Was it like in the movies?” someone asked.
“Sometimes, but not very much. I ended up doing more bodyguard work than actual detective work.”
The next question was interesting. “There were rumors that some of the stars you and the other guards protected wanted more body than guarding?”
That was a hard one, because a lot of the clients had asked or indicated a willingness for sex. The men had either ignored the invitation or said no. So technically the answer was yes, but if he said yes, then all the semi-famous, or even famous, for whom Rhys had bodyguarded would be in the tabloids tomorrow, and it would be our fault. Our former boss, Jeremy Grey, deserved better than that from us. So did our clients. And the right kind of clients would stay away from Grey’s Detective Agency, and the wrong kind would come and be disappointed.
I leaned into the microphone, and said suggestively, “I’m afraid that Rhys was too busy bodyguarding me to bodyguard anyone else.”
That got me laughter and distracted them all. We were back to sex questions about us, and those we could answer.
“Is Rhys good in bed?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Is the princess good in bed?”
“Very.”
See, easy questions.
“Rhys, have you ever shared a bed with the princess and one of the other guards?”
“Yes.”
Then the reporters started working together. The first reporter tried to ask who with, but Madeline said he’d had his question.