Ник Сайнт - Purrfectly Hidden. Purrfect Kill. Purrfect Boy Toy

“Oh, no, thank you,” said Marge. “I’m afraid of needles.”

“It’s just a tiny little prick,” said Opal. “You hardly feel a thing, and the results are astonishing. I’m not getting any today, as I just had a couple of shots last week, and I can’t have too much Botox on account of the fact that I have a slight allergy to the active ingredient, but you should definitely have it. My treat!”

“Opal is right,” said Marilyn, who was having her eyebrows done. “It’s a miracle cure.”

“Okay, maybe I’ll try it just this once,” said Marge, suddenly sounding giddy like a girl.

“Me, too!” said Gran, who seemed to have momentarily forgotten all about Hank.

“Odelia, I’m only doing this if you are, honey,” said Marge.

“I’m not having Botox,” said Odelia. “No way.”

“Oh, come on, live a little,” said Opal.

“You won’t regret it,” said Marilyn. “I promise.”

“My treat!” Opal repeated. “Make that man of yours bug his eyes out.”

Odelia giggled. She could just imagine the look on Chase’s face when he saw her, all Hollywooded up. “Oh, all right,” she said. “Why not?”

“That’s the spirit,” said Opal with satisfaction.

“Remember when we got our first Botox, darling?” said Marilyn.

“As if it was yesterday. I walked in this haggard, old person, and walked out a fresh young blossom.”

“Well, not a young blossom, maybe, but looking damn good!”

“And now if you’ll excuse me,” said Opal as she relaxed in her chair. “I’m taking a nap.”

A weird-looking device had been placed over her face, radiating a reddish light.

“Infrared lamp,” Opal said, catching Odelia’s quizzical look. “Works like a charm, but always makes me fall asleep.” And to prove she wasn’t kidding, soon she was softly snoring, eliciting snorts of laughter from the rest of the company.

Before long, Marge was having her first-ever Botox treatment, while Gran and Odelia relaxed in the hot tub. And Odelia was just thinking she could get used to this kind of thing when suddenly a loud scream pierced the laid-back atmosphere of the spa.

They both got out of the tub as fast as they could, slung towels around themselves and were already running in the direction of the screams when a second, louder scream startled them.

“That’s Opal!” said Gran. “I’d recognize that voice anywhere!”

They hurried into the beauty parlor section of the spa, and found Opal writhing on the floor in visible pain.

“I’m so sorry!” a girl was saying, a needle still in her hand. “You should have told me you were allergic!”

“Get Dr. Kavorkjan! Get him now!” Opal yelled.

The girl hurried off in the direction of the clinic.

“What happened?” asked Odelia, kneeling next to the talk show host, who was clearly in a lot of pain. Her face was bloodied and swollen, and she looked as if she’d been attacked by a swarm of mad bees.

“Botox!” she managed between severely swollen lips. “They gave me Botox while I was asleep!”

Before Odelia’s eyes, her face continued to swell, and her eyes swiveled wildly. Foam had appeared on her lips and she was making horrible choking sounds.

“Out of my way!” a man yelled and knelt down next to the stricken Opal. “She’s having an attack,” he muttered. “Call an ambulance. Call an ambulance now!”

And as he worked on Opal, Odelia did as she was told.

“She’s going to die,” said Gran. “This is it, Odelia. We lost our client.”

Chapter 26

We were all at the hospital, waiting for news about Opal. Even Uncle Alec and Chase had arrived, and Tex, of course, to see what could be done. In truth? Not much. Opal’s fate was in the hands of the doctors now, and only they could save her, or not.

“Terrible, isn’t it?” asked Harriet.

What was especially terrible was that the pedicurist working on Harriet had only finished three paws, which now left her out of balance, at least according to her.

“How could this happen?” asked Brutus.

“Apparently Opal has a Botox allergy,” I explained, “and she had an overdose of the stuff, which caused her throat to swell up and her heart to stop.”

“That’s not good, is it, Max?” said Dooley. “A heart isn’t supposed to stop, right?”

“No, usually it’s not a good sign,” I agreed.

“I think you can die when your heart stops,” said Dooley, turning to Harriet.

“Oh, Dooley,” said Harriet, shaking her head.

“Maybe we can have her cloned,” said Prunella, who was waiting with us in the hospital corridor. “But they’ll have to hurry. They need to extract some genetic material from her before she dies and immediately start the cloning process.”

“Cloning humans is not allowed,” I said, trying to break the news to her gently.

“But why? If they can clone pets, why not humans?”

“I’m not sure,” I said, “but I just know that no human has ever been cloned. At least not to my knowledge.”

“I’m sure plenty of humans have been cloned,” said Brutus. “The Nazis, for one, were already experimenting with cloning techniques in the forties, and so were the Soviets. So I’m pretty sure cloned humans walk among us, only we don’t know it.”

“I think cloning humans should be allowed,” said Dooley suddenly. “Think about the great minds that could be preserved for posterity. Einstein, Marie Curie, Bell…”

“It’s not the Einsteins of this world that will be cloned, though,” I said. “Most probably they’ll clone football stars and celebrities instead.”

“But the world needs geniuses,” said Dooley. “We’ve already got plenty of football stars.”

“There’s one human who’s a clone for sure,” said Prunella. “And that’s Tom Hanks. No celebrity can be that nice.”

“Oh, I think Tom Hanks really is that nice,” I said.

Just then, a doctor came hurrying over, and all the humans got up from their plastic chairs.

“Family of Opal Harvey?” he asked.

“I’m her partner,” said Harlan gravely.

“Your wife is in stable condition, Mr. Harvey. She will live.”

“Oh, thank the Lord,” said Harlan, raising his eyes heavenward.

“Was it the Botox, doctor?” asked Marilyn.

“Yes, it was. A severe allergic reaction. Her heart stopped for a moment, but we managed to bring her back.”

“When can we see her?” asked Harlan.

“Not just yet. She’s not fully awake. But I’ll let you know as soon as she’s in her room.”

The doctor excused himself, and Harlan suddenly started crying.

“Why is he crying?” asked Dooley. “Isn’t it good news that Opal will live?”

“Sometimes humans cry when they hear good news, too,” I said.

“Weird,” was Dooley’s determination.

“They’re happy tears,” Harriet confirmed. “Look at his face. He’s smiling.”

“No, he’s not,” said Brutus. “The corners of his mouth are pointing down.”

“He’s happy, I’m telling you. Those are happy tears.”

“Then why does he look sad?”

“Oh, Brutus.”

And as my fellow cats argued back and forth about the tough task of interpreting human emotion, I tripped over to where Odelia had taken a seat again.

“Tough day, huh, Max?” she said.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” I said. “I just found out I wasn’t cloned, and I was so looking forward to meeting my original self, too.”

She glanced over, and I gave her an exaggerated smile. “Irony. Very funny, Max.”

“So what happened, exactly?”

“Well, apparently there was a mix-up at the salon and Opal, in spite of her strict instructions not to get Botox, got her second dose in a week, which almost proved lethal.”