the din were nil, Eve waited until the last notes clashed out and Mavis, flushed with effort and pleasure, giggled and took her bows.
"I wanted you to see the rough cut right away," she said to Roarke.
"It looks like a winner."
"Really?" Obviously delighted, Mavis rushed him, threw her arms around his neck, and squeezed. "I just can't believe it's really happening. Me, cutting a disc for the top recording company on the planet."
"You're going to make me lots of money." He kissed her forehead.
"I want it to work. I really want it to work." When she spotted Eve, Mavis grinned. "Hey! Did you catch any of the cut?"
"The tail end. It was great." And because it was Mavis, she meant it. "Feeney, are you on?"
"Officially assigned." He leaned back in her chair. "McNab's doing his prelim consult at Personally Yours. We profiled him as a computer droid for one of Roarke's companies. His data's been inputted, and his new ID is in place."
"Roarke's company?"
"Seemed logical." Feeney grinned at her. "You got weight, you use it. Appreciate your help, boy-o."
"Anytime," Roarke told him, then smiled at his wife. "We cut a few corners as you're in a bit of a hurry. Peabody's profiled as a security guard at one of my buildings. Feeney thought it would be simplest to keep the profiles somewhat in line with truth."
"Oh yeah, let's keep it simple." But blowing out a breath, she nodded. "Good enough. You own half the damn city anyway, and nobody's going to question it, or find any holes in your personnel files if you had your hand in it."
"Exactly."
"Where's Peabody?"
"Trina's just finishing her."
"I need her now. She's got to get over here and put in her app, get the consult going. She looked okay, for God's sake. How long does it take to primp her up and put some street clothes on her?"
"Trina had some mag ideas," Mavis assured her with such enthusiasm Eve's blood chilled. "Wait till you see. Oh yeah, Trina wants you to plug in a session before your party. She wants to glam you some for it, since it's the holidays."
Eve merely grunted. She had no intention of being glammed -- now or ever.
"Sure, right. Where the hell..." Her voice trailed off as she heard them coming. She turned toward the doorway and blinked. Gaped.
"I have to say," Trina announced, "I'm good."
Peabody snorted, flushed, then smiled hesitantly. "Okay, so do you think I'll pass the audition?"
Her bowl-cut hair had been sheened and fluffed into a dark halo. Her face glowed with deep color smudged around her eyes to accent their shape and size, and her lips were dyed a soft coral pink.
Her body, which appeared so sturdy in a uniform, took on lusher, more feminine curves in a sweeping ankle duster of deep pine green. A tangle of chains in jewel hues were draped around her neck. Peeking out between the layers was a small, wistful tattoo of a gold-winged fairy.
Peabody had selected the tattoo herself after Trina had caught her up in the spirit of things. She hadn't flinched when the quick, capable hands had cupped her left breast to apply the temp. By that time she'd begun to enjoy the sensation of being remade.
But now, as Eve stared at her, Peabody began to shift her feet -- they were clad in toothpick heels that matched the wings of her mystical tattoo. "It doesn't work?"
"You sure as hell don't look like a cop," Eve decided.
"You look beautiful." Amused by his wife's reaction, Roarke stepped forward and took both of Peabody's hands: "Absolutely delicious." So saying, he kissed her fingers and had Peabody's susceptible heart stuttering.
"Yeah, really? Wow."
"Get over it, Peabody. Feeney, you've got twenty minutes to brief her on her profile. Peabody, where's your stunner, your communicator?"
"Here." Still flushed, she slipped a hand into a hidden pocket in the hip of the dress. "Handy, huh?"