Eros Ascending: Book 1 of Tales of the Velvet Comet Read Online Free PDF Page A

they were right.”
    Redwine shrugged. “That just goes to show how much an accountant knows,” he said self-deprecatingly.
    The Leather Madonna turned to face him. “I want to apologize for flaring up at you a minute ago,” she said.
    “It's already forgotten.”
    “No,” she insisted. “I'm sure coming here wasn't your idea. I was rude and ill-mannered. I promise that it won't happen again.”
    He smiled. “You're about to embarrass me, which is something even the so-called entertainments I saw on the holoscreen last night couldn't do.”
    She laughed. “All right, Mr. Redwine. The subject is closed.”
    “If you really want to make peace,” he said, “why not start calling me Harry?”
    “Harry it is.”
    “By the way, your comment about Sovereign's brings up an interesting question,” he said, stepping aside to allow a middle-aged man who seemed in a hurry to pass him.
    “Yes?”
    “I notice that about every sixth or seventh shop has somebody working in it. Isn't that unusual?”
    “Certainly—but our patrons can afford it, and they like the personal touch of dealing with people rather than machines. Also, the nature of the stores demands it. Whoever heard of a computer acting as a custom tailor? Usually one employee services half a dozen clustered shops. If you require personal service, simply announce it when you enter and someone will be with you as quickly as possible.”
    They rode in silence past a pair of lingerie shops, (one expensive and tasteful, one expensive and wildly exotic), a hair styling salon, a very discreet shop that sold very discreet sexual aids, a florist with the too-cute sobriquet of The Blooming Idiot, a dealer in alien art objects, a store that seemed to deal exclusively in fur wraps and feathered boas, and a jeweler of galactic renown.
    “I think I've seen enough,” remarked Redwine, stepping off the slidewalk and onto the polished parquet floor.
    “Is something wrong?” asked the Leather Madonna.
    “No,” he said. “But I'm supposed to be inspecting the premises, not window-shopping. I don't imagine the ambience changes much in the next mile.”
    “No, it doesn't,” she agreed. “But there's something that I want you to see.”
    “Oh?” he said, as she took his hand and gently pulled him back onto the slidewalk. “What is it?”
    “That would be telling.”
    “Well, what the hell,” he said. “I had planned to do a little shopping anyway.”
    “I gather you have a little more to spend than you did yesterday,” she noted. “Or so the Duke tells me.”
    “The Duke?".
    “Our pit boss. He says that you have a very complicated wagering system.”
    He chuckled. "Very complicated. I watch the roulette table until red comes up five times in a row, and then I bet on black.”
    “Very effective," she replied. “Or at least it was last night.”
    “That's because I know enough to quit when I'm ahead.” He flashed her a grin. “The soul of an accountant.”
    “What made you become an accountant?” she asked as they barely avoided colliding with an elderly woman who was emerging from a jewelry shop.
    “It took less work than being a lawyer.”
    “That hardly sounds like a man who is passionately dedicated to his work,” said the Madonna.
    “I'm passionately dedicated to paying my bills. Accounting is the best way I know how.”
    “Is there much challenge to it?”
    “Some,” he replied. “Not much.” He paused. “I trust you're noticing the tact with which I have avoided asking you the very same questions.”
    “It must be quite a strain.”
    “It is,” he confessed.
    She laughed. “Some evening we'll sit down with a couple of drinks and I'll tell you all about it.”
    “I'm sure it'll make better listening than the story of my career.”
    “We'll see,” she promised. Then she looked ahead of her. “Ah! We're almost there.”
    They stepped off a moment later, and she led him to an elegant little antique shop that displayed an ancient spinet