Cat In A Topaz Tango

The hotel was a pipsqueak compared to the behemoths that now ruled Vegas yet the lobby was as swanky, with acres of gleaming marble, blazing crystal light fixtures, and a hubbub of echoing voices and luggage wheels.

Molina paced outside the parked Tahoe under the entry canopy while Rafi and Temple in full Zoe personality bustled up to the desk, eyeing the snaking lines of guests checking in.

Louie in his tote bag bumped Zoe’s sixties-patterned hip.

“Jeez, Midnight Louise,” she complained under her breath. “It’s like dangling Big Ben in a sack from your shoulder.”

With that, the tote bag contents shifted and twisted. Louie lofted down to the ritzy floor. In an instant he was a puddle of flowing black India ink, slipping out of sight among the huddled feet and backpacks and wheeled carry-ons, most of them black.

“Oh, shoot!” Zoe cried. “Now we’ve got two of them missing.”

But Rafi was edging expertly through and around the crowds, carving a path for Zoe and in hot pursuit of Louie.

A second later the mobs of people lining the block-long reception desk started rearing back from their prime positions, wailing in dismay. Louie’s ears and tail could be glimpsed taking the high road down the marble desk, scattering credit cards, room cards, and pens as he went.

“That cat dude knows how to cut a swath,” Rafi said. “Come on! I think he knows where we want to go.”

At the end of the reception desk the exclamations and curses stopped abruptly.

Zoe and Rafi broke through the last line, leaving hurt toes and feelings behind them, to see an empty floor. Only a short desk for selling show tickets sat ahead. It took a moment to spot Louie atop it, looking as if he’d just pulled a photo of a magician on a placard out of a hat.

“Louie Too!” Mariah screeched. She shot into view from the right, trying to embrace the big black cat, who ducked expertly behind the placard to avoid having his fur mussed.

Temple stopped dead. “We’ve found her! And she looks perfectly all right. Perfectly normal.”

“Yeah,” Rafi said behind her, his tone pleased. “But don’t let looks fool you. Kids this age are never perfectly normal.”

“Would you want one who was?” Temple asked.

Rafi was regarding his daughter with satisfaction, even a bit of pride. “Nope.”

She was wearing orange Capris and a yellow-and-green sixties-print smock top with fluorescent poison-green flip-flops and carried a lavender canvas backpack for a purse. The girl’s Dutch bob of highlighted blond over brunet looked hip but wholesome for a soon-to-be high school freshman nowadays. Temple felt a pang that Mariah could accessorize Teen Fashion Queen without even trying, when Zoe Chloe had to really work her look.

“Mom’s gonna freak,” she muttered to Rafi, “but Mariah looks like she knows what she’s doing.”

“Terrifying,” he muttered back. “Let’s find out what that is before Momcat gets here.”

Mariah turned to greet them with no guilt, like they were here to join a fun party.

“How’d you guys hear about this?” she asked. “Did the Dance Partee people hire you as security because of the Teen Queen house gig?” she asked Rafi. “And you’re a little old to compete,” she told Temple-Zoe. “But you look cool, as always.”

“Your mom’s worried about you,” Zoe said with a twinge of Temple disapproval.

Big sigh. “I sent her a text message. She’s been too bummed to even notice I’m gone. I hadda do this! Ekaterina heard she could try out and she needs something to keep her in this country, or she’ll just die! I mean, maybe literally. Could be the publicity will help. And she’s just made the finals! Is this a great country or what?”

Mariah was hopping up and down with excitement.

Rafi put a big hand on her hyperactive shoulder. “Your mom’s been worried sick about you, and you’re right, she’s already sick. How could you do this to her? It was really stupid and selfish.”

Mariah’s glee wilted in the face of adult male disapproval. Her eyelashes batted back regret. She’d thought Rafi had been cool. “Oh, Mom’ll be fine. She always is. But EK is a Chechnya refugee and her family’s only chance. I had to help her.”

“How?” Temple asked.

“I know how these audition things work. I’m . . . I’m her manager.”

“Does EK’s family know where she is?”

“Not exactly.”

“‘Not exactly’?” Rafi repeated.

Temple eyed him. He’d wanted Molina to hold back because she was “too police” and now he was acting like a truant officer.

“No. I guess.” Mariah was fidgeting like a preteen. Temple had to give Catholic schools credit for delaying adolescent rebellion and fine-tuning guilt. “We wanted to wait on telling anybody until we knew EK was going to be on the show.’”

“The show?” Temple took over, figuring it was time for Zoe Chloe to display some camaraderie for The Young and the Restless. “What a cool deal! What show is this? Sumthin’ I can groove at?”