Lady Churchill's Rosebud Wristlet 29 by Edited by Gavin J. Grant and Kelly Link

Author:Edited by Gavin J. Grant and Kelly Link
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9781618730817
Published: 2013-08-31T16:00:00+00:00

During the first week of July, Rondelé came to Montal’s bedroom just after he had taken a shower. He was standing before the full-length mirror in a towel, wondering how his sagging flesh would look in zero gravity. Rondelé brought a tray of crackers and a crock of Mother’s favorite spreadable cheese. He placed it on the dresser like a peace offering. “I need your help, ’cardo.”

“I’m listening,” Montal said, through a mouthful of crackers.

“It’s Eve’s birthday soon. What should I get her?”

Montal stared at his brother, studying the broad, guileless planes of his face. Slowly, he raised one finger. “Stay right here,” he said, and began rummaging through his walk-in closet. A minute later he presented a flat box to Rondelé with a flourish. “These should be perfect.”

Rondelé took the top off and removed a pair of jeans. He ran his fingers over the stitching. “Are these Punishers?”

A while back Montal had come up with an idea for a line of stretchy jeans with an embedded microchip. When they detected an ass that had grown since last wearing, they would scream out derisive comments about the owner to random passersby.

Rondelé dropped the jeans back into the box. “Why are you being such a jerk?”

“What do you mean?” Montal cinched his towel tighter around his waist. “I’m giving her her own diet.”

“Is that what this is about?” Rondelé said. “The diet? Look, this thing is actually working! I spend more time thinking about how to disrupt you and Eve than about eating my own meals. Who cares if other people join us?”

“It’s not just that,” Montal said. “You’re never around. It’s . . . boring.” He felt as if he were standing on a high cliff made of crumbling earth. “Is it just about sex?” he said. “Is that it?”

“No.” Rondelé reddened, then smiled. “Not completely.” His expression became earnest, almost pleading. “She’s really smart, ’Cardo. She’s got thoughts about everything.”

“Like what?”

“Like everything. The company, for example. She says it’s changed. It used to make good stuff, useful stuff, but since Father died, it’s like a rudderless ship. Moody is incompetent, and maybe even a little nuts. Manufacturing makes useless junk. The publishing division puts out trash. Not just bad novels and sensational magazines, but political screeds and nutball manifestos and who knows what else. Crazy things, crazy ideas.”

Montal scoffed. “What does she know? She’s a secretary. Besides, who cares about politics and manifestos? Ideas are just ideas.”

“Maybe.” Rondelé said. “But maybe not. I think we should pay more attention, one of us at least.”

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