Cat In A Topaz Tango

“Have you seen your boyfriend yet?” he asked.

“My boyfriend is in a boy band,” Zoe announced as some tech workers passed by. She lowered her voice. “I clued Matt in, but maybe Mariah’s mom will do more of it. It was a fast phone call. Zoe Chloe would sooo not hang with an older guy unless he was Ashton Kutcher.”

Rafi chuckled.

“You see something funny in this situation, dude?” Zoe asked.

“Yeah. I see the new, New Age Molina telling your straight-arrow boyfriend that we are all here on police business and he needs to play along. Exasperation becomes her.”

Temple glanced at Mariah, who was watching Rafi with a certain hero worship of his obvious disregard for her mother’s authority, if not the outright adoration she rained on Matt. Temple couldn’t say what she wanted to in front of the kid but realized she wouldn’t have traded places with Molina for all the cool jazz arrangements in ASCAP.

Undressed Rehearsal

Just like on Dancing With the Stars, Temple discovered, the local Celebs stars got only one dress rehearsal, two hours before the live show.

Four couples doing a minute-and-a-half routine didn’t seem like it would be a big production, but they had to rehearse the opening intro, coordinating with the live band and backup singers, and wrestling the buttons, bows, and spangles on the elaborate costuming that had been cooked up literally overnight.

(This was Vegas, baby! Costumes were the equivalent of street clothes here on the Strip.)

Zoe Chloe settled down in the front center row of audience seats, her bodyguards-cum-posse at her side. Louie prowled the area, his favorite perch being the empty judges’ table, where he sprawled finally to yawn, scratch, and lick his privates throughout all the rehearsed numbers, greatly amusing the crew.

“Two hours wasted,” Rafi groaned, “to watch amateur twinkletoes. Private cop work is worse than public cop work.”

“Anything might happen,” Molina snapped. “A life may be at stake, given the threats, and it’s on your turf and your watch.”

“I get it, Carmen. Too bad Mariah’s whole life wasn’t on my watch.”

“And what would you have had to offer? Child support? Please.”

Zoe Chloe leaned forward between them, effectively becoming a Goth girl wall.

“Peeps! You’re forgetting you work for me now. Cut the personal crap. I need to watch this to learn how Crawford Buchanan emcees the big boys and girls so I have a role model for my star turn with the little girls and boys.”

“Yeah.” Rafi snorted. “You learning from Buchanan. That’d be like the lieutenant here learning from Deputy Barney Fife. Call this what it is, babysitting.”

He nodded at Mariah and the junior dancers huddling in the front row of the side section, looking rapt and a little scared by the bored Los Hermanos Brothers sitting on their spines behind them.

“It’s not natural,” Rafi rumbled. “Real guys don’t dance.”

Molina kept silent on the subject.

“That is sooo a middle-aged ’tude, dude,” Zoe Chloe said after a three-beat pause. “If anyone here says Matt is not a real man, I will hit them with my designer tote bag, with Louie in it!”

“Present company’s fiancé excluded,” Molina said quickly. She eyed Rafi. “Some men have out-of-date macho issues.

“Max danced,” Temple said suddenly, in her own persona. “Like a dream.”

Rafi shrugged. “From what I hear, he was all balls, so I stand corrected.”

Molina fumed visibly as her face turned a dull beet-red, but she literally bit her lip.

Temple had the funny feeling Molina had known Max danced.

Or was the Iron Maiden of the LVMPD recalling when she and Max had done the martial arts tango in the strip club parking lot several months ago? Good ole Carmen the Cop had told Matt that Max had gotten sexual with her then, but she was always ready to blacken Max’s motives. Temple had never confronted Molina about that. Maybe she should.

Luckily, right then Crawford Buchanan oiled on stage and crooned into his MC’s handheld mike.

“Welcome to Dancing With the Celebs, Las Vegas’s answer to presenting new terpsichorean stars of the entertainment firmament.” Every eye was on the top of each side staircase, where the first couples would pose and descend. Temple knew that walking head up and smiling down steps without looking at your feet was a demanding art.

She was also as rapt and eager as the junior girls to ogle the lavish costumes, makeup, and hairstyles. Stagecraft always delighted her. She figured Zoe Chloe was a glamour groupie too.

Temple had wedding bell stars in her eyes when his name was announced and Matt came out with a fragile-looking Glory B. on his arm.

“The first dance is a waltz,” she whispered to no one in particular, eyeing the women’s full, floating skirts and the guys’ formal evening getups. On either side, her undercover escorts tried to blink their eyes wider open to stay attentive. Obviously Molina and Rafi had never treasured wedding day dreams even when they first met years ago.