Cat In A Topaz Tango

“You girls all sit in back,” he said, lifting the tote bag and Louie off Temple’s shoulder as he hefted her by the elbow into the high step up. She was pretty sure Molina had received the same gallantry. Interesting.

Rafi to the rescue. How long could that keep up?

“Okay,” he said, once again behind the wheel. “I spotted a Wendy’s, Denny’s, and steakhouse along the highway. What does everybody want?”

What a loaded question, Temple thought. She kept her mouth shut as the girls fought for Wendy’s and Denny’s and Molina won with the steakhouse. It was time Molina won one, and Temple knew Louie’s vote would have been for steak. Very rare.

Molina kept quiet during lunch but EK and Mariah made enough noise for all five of them, leaving Temple and Rafi to play supervising adults. The ravenous girls ordered hamburgers and fries and chattered away, dramatically reliving the highpoints of their adventure. Rafi ordered a big rare steak and devoted himself to hacking it up and eating it. Temple had a Cobb salad while Mama Molina picked at a blander chef’s salad.

The girls heedlessly revealed all the details of the long evening bus trip and sleeping in the hotel hallway and interacting with the audition attendees and crew that would turn even a careless parent’s hair white. They’d actually been pretty observant and showed some street savvy. Rafi finished his steak and asked EK about her life in Chechnya and as a refugee. That was even more observant and street savvy.

Molina was so self-absorbed she let Rafi pay for the whole party without a peep.

Or maybe she wasn’t as absent in mind as she seemed.

“Okay,” she said as Rafi was laying down the tip in the middle of the messy fast-food table. “She doesn’t deserve it, but Mariah can attend the dance thing with Ekaterina. But not without some kind of chaperone.”

Or course Mariah’s squeal of joy was followed by an “Oh, Mom, we don’t need a babysitter.” Temple packed the plain hamburger she’d ordered for Louie and the to-go bottled water for his covered water dish in the truck. She was beat, but at least she and Louie would be enjoying all the comforts—and quiet—of home soon.

North to Las Vegas. Molina leaned against the locked passenger door, as far from Rafi as her body could manage. She had her sunglasses on and was either dozing or fuming.

Mariah and Ekaterina’s spirits were rising again. They chattered about the funny people on the bus on the way down (who sounded more creepy than amusing), how Mariah had dug up EK’s performing outfit from the school costume cupboard and a vintage shop, about the boy band members who would partner the junior category girls in the dances, and which Los Hermanos Brothers brother was the coolest, the cutest, the hottest. About what kind of dances and costumes EK would get for the show.

After fifteen minutes of this, Molina stirred and shoved her black-framed sunglasses up on her hair like a headband. “Wait a minute. Where is the next stage of this dance contest being held?” She’d been too angry earlier to register the glorious, Rafi-related news.

“At the Dancing With the Celebs show at the Oasis,” Mariah reported. “EK won a spot in the junior division.”

“And I am not even a freshman,” EK said, giggling.

“Me, neither,” Mariah said, “but the age range is twelve-to-seventeen. We got that right.”

They high-fived each other while Molina shuddered slightly. She wasn’t thinking of Rafi, but another man of their mutual acquaintance.

“Does that mean,” she asked, directing a significant look at Temple, “that EK is appearing in the same dance competition that Matt Devine is in?”

Temple hit Zoe Chloe’s forehead with the heel of her hand. With all the fuss and worry over Mariah, she’d forgotten that.

“Ooh, Matt Devine,” Mariah screamed to EK. “He’s gonna take me to the dad-daughter dance next fall. You gotta teach me the waltz or something, EK. He’s to-die-for cute, but, you know, old.”

The adults in the vehicle, including the host persona of Zoe Chloe Ozone, kept an uneasy silence. Out of the mouths of babes.

Temple had to wonder how Rafi liked hearing about some other guy escorting Mariah to a father-daughter event.

Molina must be cringing about that.

And Temple was not too hot on hearing her fiancé lauded as a teen idol, even though he was, you know, old.

Like her.

The Bus Fume

Boogie Blues

Lord, if they wanted to assassinate him, now would be the time to try. Please!

Max had a “seat” on the hard-topped storage box in the tail of the airplane-long bus, where the diesel fumes almost put him under like lethal ether. He needed anesthesia again. His recently abused bones were shuddering with the efforts of the engine beneath him.

As the incredibly long bus zigzagged like a sewing machine through the hairpin turns down the Alps, gorgeous postcards of scenery careened by, making his stomach into a blender for every acid in his system.