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The Laughing Corpse :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 11 из 213The laughter died. "What is that?" I asked.
"This," she said, stepping towards me, "is the solution to our problem."
"All right, but what is it?"
"Well, it is a collar, a decoration."
"It goes around my neck?"
"Yes."
I shook my head. "I don't think so."
"Ms. Blake, I have tried everything to hide that, that … mark. Hats, hairdos, simple ribbons, corsages … " She literally threw up her hands. "I am at my wit's end."
This I could believe. I took a deep breath. "I sympathize with you, Mrs. Cassidy, really I do. I've been a royal pain in the ass."
"I would never say such a thing."
"I know, so I said it for you. But that is the ugliest piece of fru-fru I've ever laid eyes on."
"If you, Ms. Blake, have any better suggestions, then I am all ears." She half crossed her arms over her chest. The offending piece of «decoration» trailed nearly to her waist.
"It's huge," I protested.
"It will hide your"-she set her mouth tight-"scar."
I felt like applauding. She'd said the dirty word. Did I have any better suggestions? No. I did not. I sighed. "Put it on me. The least I can do is look at it."
She smiled. "Please lift your hair."
I did as I was told. She fastened it around my neck. The lace itched, the ribbons tickled, and I didn't even want to look in the mirror. I raised my eyes, slowly, and just stared.
"Thank goodness you have long hair. I'll style it myself the day of the wedding so it helps the camouflage."
The thing around my neck looked like a cross between a dog collar and the world's biggest wrist corsage. My neck had sprouted pink ribbons like mushrooms after a rain. It was hideous, and no amount of hairstyling was going to change that. But it hid the scar completely, perfectly. Ta-da.
I just shook my head. What could I say? Mrs. Cassidy took my silence for assent. She should have known better. The phone rang and saved us both. "I'll be just a minute, Ms. Blake." She stalked off, high-heels silent on the thick carpet.
I just stared at myself in the mirrors. My hair and eyes match, black hair, eyes so dark brown they look black. They are my mother's Latin darkness. But my skin is pale, my father's Germanic blood. Put some makeup on me and I look not unlike a china doll. Put me in a puffy pink dress and I look delicate, dainty, petite. Dammit.
The rest of the women in the wedding party were all five-five or above. Maybe some of them would actually look good in the dress. I doubted it.
"This," she said, stepping towards me, "is the solution to our problem."
"All right, but what is it?"
"Well, it is a collar, a decoration."
"It goes around my neck?"
"Yes."
I shook my head. "I don't think so."
"Ms. Blake, I have tried everything to hide that, that … mark. Hats, hairdos, simple ribbons, corsages … " She literally threw up her hands. "I am at my wit's end."
This I could believe. I took a deep breath. "I sympathize with you, Mrs. Cassidy, really I do. I've been a royal pain in the ass."
"I would never say such a thing."
"I know, so I said it for you. But that is the ugliest piece of fru-fru I've ever laid eyes on."
"If you, Ms. Blake, have any better suggestions, then I am all ears." She half crossed her arms over her chest. The offending piece of «decoration» trailed nearly to her waist.
"It's huge," I protested.
"It will hide your"-she set her mouth tight-"scar."
I felt like applauding. She'd said the dirty word. Did I have any better suggestions? No. I did not. I sighed. "Put it on me. The least I can do is look at it."
She smiled. "Please lift your hair."
I did as I was told. She fastened it around my neck. The lace itched, the ribbons tickled, and I didn't even want to look in the mirror. I raised my eyes, slowly, and just stared.
"Thank goodness you have long hair. I'll style it myself the day of the wedding so it helps the camouflage."
The thing around my neck looked like a cross between a dog collar and the world's biggest wrist corsage. My neck had sprouted pink ribbons like mushrooms after a rain. It was hideous, and no amount of hairstyling was going to change that. But it hid the scar completely, perfectly. Ta-da.
I just shook my head. What could I say? Mrs. Cassidy took my silence for assent. She should have known better. The phone rang and saved us both. "I'll be just a minute, Ms. Blake." She stalked off, high-heels silent on the thick carpet.
I just stared at myself in the mirrors. My hair and eyes match, black hair, eyes so dark brown they look black. They are my mother's Latin darkness. But my skin is pale, my father's Germanic blood. Put some makeup on me and I look not unlike a china doll. Put me in a puffy pink dress and I look delicate, dainty, petite. Dammit.
The rest of the women in the wedding party were all five-five or above. Maybe some of them would actually look good in the dress. I doubted it.