Cat In An Aqua Storm

Electra patted Temple’s hand to the accompaniment of jangling bangles. “Glinda hoped, in that loony, kiddish way of hers, that winning another Rhinestone G-string would establish that she was an artist, an entertainer, that it would help her get her kids.

“That’s what I was trying to say, these dancers aren’t fools, but they fool themselves,” Electra went on. “They can use the business, or the business can use them. Some girls barely eighteen perform for ten grand a week at uptown clubs. They don’t have to take tips or talk to customers or touch them. They’re exotic dance queens like in the classy old burlesque days. Other girls the same age are bussed around from town to town and dump to dump, paid ten bucks a night and all the tips they can writhe out of men, no more than bar girls selling drinks with their bodies. The sleazy club owners fine them their tip money for so-called ‘infractions,’ and then fire them if they want to develop their careers by taking time off to be in a contest like this. Some club managers are little more than pimps, forcing green kids into dancing until they’re afraid they can’t do anything better. Then there are the seasoned ones, the hardheads. Nobody does them out of their pay, they come and they go of their free will, and essentially take the money and run. Most of them run back to stripping, though, because no other job they could get pays those kind of tips, or offers that kind of spotlight.”

“Whew. You heard it all. What about Katharine—Kitty Cardozo? She wasn’t like poor Glinda North. She had nothing to lose, except a woman-beating man worth getting rid of. She had her own business—”

“She got the business, Temple, just like Glinda. Wait’ll you hear the stuff I dug up. That’s why I was at Kitty City. Who do you think it’s named after?”

“Lots of strip joints play on cat names. The Pussycat Lounge down Paradise, Le Chat Noir—”

“Only one is named Kitty City, and that’s because Kitty—your Kitty!—started it. Or her then-husband did. Twelve years ago. Named it in her honor. She was the star. Then they split. Kitty claimed she owned half, but had no papers to prove it. It seems she trusted them to the office safe, and guess who got custody of that when she walked out?”

“Her husband?”

“The one and only. What a sweetie. Say, I might have a new career. Kitty City doesn’t use novelty acts, but they’re willing to let me try out.” Electra tossed her head. Not much of her moussed midnight-black hair moved, but her earrings shimmied like everyone’s sister Kate. “The Vampire and I just might blow their carburetors.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Swear to Sally Rand! I’m telling you, I could have a sixth career here.”

“Speaking of which, what about your wedding chapel clients while you’re tripping the light fantastic?”

“Listen, there are two dozen wedding chapels in Vegas. Let ’em eat rice cakes somewhere else for a couple of days. The Lover’s Knot will still be here tomorrow. This is fun!”

“I'm glad you’re enjoying yourself. You certainly got a lot of information. I bet Molina would give her best penny loafers for half of what you know.”

“Don’t count on it. That woman is all over that place like a bad dream. I’ve been interviewed by one of her associates already.” Electra paused. “Not bad. About fifty-three. Decent build. Cute little bald spot.”

“Electra! You’re beginning to sound like one of the dancers. Keep your mind on business.”

“Okay. Here’s something I kept hearing, and finally this little voice starts ringing in my ears, sort of breathy, like Marilyn Monroe. Maybe I’m channeling her, who knows? Anyway, it keeps saying: What name keeps coming up, dummy, in all the gossip? And guess what does?”

Temple was at a loss, especially after the Marilyn Monroe allusion out of left field. “Joe DiMaggio?”

“No, silly! Even—get this!—even Savannah Ashleigh has a connection. The word is she’s judging this competition because, if she doesn’t, some photos from her past might show up in the North American Examiner

.”

“That supermarket rag!”

“Yes, well-read but not good for the career in ‘filmah.’ ”

“You talked to Savannah Ashleigh, too?” Temple was impressed. Electra knew how to get in there and boogie.

“Oh, yeah. She admired my earrings. I promised to make her some. Glinda did a stint at Kitty City, too. And that’s where Savannah got her start more years ago than she’d care to let on. Supposedly, some sleazy photos of her would have hit the street if she hadn’t agreed to judge this year’s competition. Actually, everyone thinks that some scandalous photos in the right places could jump-start her stalling career, except hers are so old that she no longer displays the top form she used to, and the contrast would be shocking.”

“So Savannah, Glinda and Kitty all worked, even began their careers, at Kitty City?”

“Them, and more. It’s a big club, in a big-club town.”