Cat In An Aqua Storm

Temple felt like a jailer as she zipped up the carrier. How on earth had Louie got in here? More to the point, how had Yvette got out of her carrier? That was one mystery she was not inclined to investigate. Both perpetrators had a speech impediment.

Temple soft-footed it to the door and peeked out. The hall was again so still that she could hear Yvette’s contented, fading purr.

She left as quietly as she could, heading toward the scene of the first crime. Within that room, voices still rose and fell, although much more softly now. Two. Female. Well, it was a women’s dressing room. Guess she could walk right in.

She announced her entry by pushing the ajar door open hard. Then she gave an indrawn shriek of alarm.

Two golden ghosts stood frozen face to face, shimmering in the glare of the makeup lights, as nude as classical statues except for gold lame G-strings. At least they were naked ladies, not laddies.

“Miss... Barr.” One spoke, and broke the spell. Temple followed Louie’s example when caught red-handed where she shouldn’t be, and blinked.

A gilt hand pounded its owner’s golden breastbone. “June.”

The other mirrored the gesture. “Gypsy.”

Temple almost pounded her chest, too, and responded, “Me, Jane.”

Instead, she sank onto a nearby ice-cream chair. “Golly, you startled me,” she said, realizing that by rights they should be accusing her of that.

“It’s the gold metallic paint,” the one on the left said. June. “We need to see what the light gels upstairs will do to it, especially with this opalescent glitter powder we’re mixing with it. Sometimes it can go green. First we have to wait for it to dry.”

“There’s only one way to put it on,” Gypsy added. “In the buff with a sponge.”

“You paint each other?” Temple asked.

“Only the back parts the other can’t reach,” Gypsy said. “Twins make it handy. And we have to leave a discreet spot blank. Otherwise our entire skins would be covered and we’d—what’s that word, June?”

“Asphyxiate.”

“We’d crack.”

“Ghastly, but the effect is phenomenal,” Temple said. “You look like duplicate Greek statues... even your hair is gold and glittery. I can leave—”

“Don’t!” June’s voice sounded a bit panicky. “Maybe you can settle an argument for us.”

“You argue?”

“Not often,” Gypsy said proudly. “But this time June’s being a stick-in-the-mud.”

“You’re the one who wants to blow our whole act.”

Temple sat up straighter, despite her fatigue, as befits an arbiter. PR people are problem solvers, first and foremost. “What’s the matter?”

Gypsy sighed and sat down, first checking to insure that her derriere left no gilded imprint on the chair seat. Temple was relieved. With June still standing, she had a foolproof way to tell them apart.

“It’s about coming out of the closet,” Gypsy said.

“The closet,” Temple repeated numbly. They were gay and in love with each other? Bizarro.

“No, it isn’t that,” June snapped. “Gypsy’s got it all wrong. She invited Dad to the competition Saturday without telling me, even sent him a plane ticket. Can you imagine? Our parents don’t know anything about... all this.”

June’s wide-armed gesture showed off more than the aura of the dressing room.

“I see,” Temple said.

“No, you don’t,” the seated Gypsy argued. “Neither does June. It’s a statement. Our father needs to confront our lives.”

“What’s to confront?” June asked. “We dance nearly naked, and are damn good at it. We make a nice bit of money.”

“I want him to come to the competition.”

“I don’t!”

“He has to see what he did.”

“Gypsy! You’re not reviving that crazy story again.”

“It’s not crazy. I’m not crazy. It’s true.”

“Dad never touched me.”

“He did me. Plenty.”

Temple felt a cold chill in her stomach as she realized exactly what issue was tearing the single-minded twins’ unanimity apart. Beneath their pert manners, their fit, agile forms and the glamorous gilt, lay an ancient rot.

“Why would he?” June demanded. “We always had everything the same. Same teachers, same clothes, same food, same sicknesses. Why would Dad mess with you and not me?” She almost sounded jealous.

“I don’t know!” Emotion made Gypsy’s voice tremble. “Maybe because doing it to only one of us would cause twice the pain. That’s why I invited him. To see us both.”

“Gypsy! Mom will know.”

“Maybe Mom should know. Maybe Mom always knew what our father did.”

June turned to Temple. “She’s crazy! Isn’t she?”

“She’s your sister,” Temple answered. “Do you think so?”

Her calm took the edge off of June’s anger. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Nobody’s closer to me than my sister. How could I not know—how could she not tell me all these years?”

“Shame,” Temple said.

“June.” Gypsy reached a tentative, golden arm out for her sister, like Yvette batting at a fringe. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“But you’ll hurt Dad.”

“I’ll make him see.”

“See what?”