Кэрол Дуглас - Cat In An Alien X-Ray

Tonight while Matt was properly attentive and consoling her on public relations bloopers, she could pump him on major career matters.

* * *

The Bellagio it was. The Circo restaurant was surrounded by gleaming vaulted traditional woodwork with sophisticated big top touches and offered Tuscan delights from octopus appetizers to gourmet pizza.

Temple let herself soak in the setting as if she were sinking into a buoyant, bubbling hot spa. Matt was watching her relax with eyes as warming as brandy. Temple sighed.

“Matt, this is exactly what I needed after spending days, it seems, on an unshaded dusty, grimy construction site. And this restaurant overlooks the Bellagio’s Lago di Como. Lake Como, where Kit and Aldo went on their honeymoon. Did you know—?”

He just grinned, an expression Temple was surprised to realize she’d not seen for a while. “And did you buy that dress during your lightning shopping session with my mother?” Matt asked. He’d already learned to ask, not assume.

“No, that was totally for the bride-to-be. I saw something during that raid on the Venice shops and realized I had an ’80s lookalike version among the vintage stuff in my closet.”

“Lavender is definitely your color,” he said as the waiter brought them something wickedly scarlet in martini glasses. “Your high-powered drink, madam,” Matt said. “The Web site says the Bellagio pours twenty-five thousand cocktails every twenty-four hours, but the hotel pioneered upping the quality on mixed drinks in Las Vegas in recent years.”

“You researched my druthers! That is so sweet, Matt.”

“I hope this candy apple red drink isn’t.” He sipped and offered a considering expression.

Temple said, “You realize I can’t be a ‘madam’ until I’m married.”

“Not a problem.” He watched her sample the cocktail.

“Wow. Like a Cosmopolitan made from White Lightning. I like.” She sighed. “I need. My shoulder muscles have been in lockdown since I first heard the name Silas T. Farnum.”

“So what did Silas T. Farnum do to earn your wrath and swift execution?”

“Farnum,” she snarled. “The surname alone should have alerted me. He’s the P. T. Barnum of modern hucksterism.” She lifted her glass. “A toast to toasted hucksters.” She sipped again before reluctantly lowering her glass. “Although his building concept was pretty awesome.”

“We’re not talking about his personal presence here, I hope. A Web site maybe—”

“No. He’s invested in the unlovely area on the Paradise Road bend, the beastly backside of the Strip’s beauty parade. His project is so high-tech, it takes futuristic to the moon and back. But how do you sell a building people can’t see?”

“Ran out of construction money, huh?” Matt shook his head. “A lot of people with big dreams and even bigger bankrolls did when the Great Recession hit them.”

“Don’t cry for Silas T. Farnum. He’s got the site lot, he’s got the dough. He’s got a sure-thing prize for the ‘Most Unusual Vegas Design.’ If people could only see it.”

“Maybe he’ll attract more customers than you think.”

“Don’t keep looking on the bright side! How do you sell … nothing?”

Matt was looking lost. And that made him look weary, with new fine lines around his eyes.

“Forget about my troubles,” Temple said. “What’s up with you? Or, rather, what’s keeping you up past your two A.M. quitting time? I don’t understand why you need to work up new show ideas with Ambrosia when you’re on the brink of leaving The Midnight Hour. ”

“I’m not.” He took another slug of Red Ruin.

“Not working up new ideas? I can understand how you hate to leave her and WCOO in the lurch—”

“I’m not leaving The Midnight Hour. ”

“Matt!”

At that instant, her cell phone yodeled for attention. Temple had to dig in her crowded envelope purse to pull out a smartphone with a loud ringtone of Leonard Cohen singing “Hallelujah” and set it back to sleep.

This was definitely not a “hallelujah” moment for either of them.

“Sorry,” she told Matt, hating the interruption at such a crucial time.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Matt looking relieved. He didn’t really want to continue this conversation. And she really did need a good long talk with him.… As she watched her phone screen, she heard Silas T.’s voice: “Look at this.”

She lifted the dang phone, ready to hurl it to the floor.

Sound and motion filled her screen. A YouTube dip showed a Spielberg-like hovering spaceship as a hysterical voice-over did the “color” coverage.

“Holy flying cow! It’s not a bird! It’s not a plane! It’s a super spaceship, and I’m filming it on my camcorder from my Riviera Hotel room window. I’m watching this thing descend—hell, land! —in a vacant lot off the Vegas Strip. The aliens are heeeere and they couldn’t have picked a better place to colonize.”

Matt had risen at hearing the hysterical voice and came around the table to watch the tiny screen over her shoulder. “Is that your ex-client’s freaky new attraction? Looks like a winner to me.”

“That’s just the thing. It’s not an attraction. It’s invisible.”

“Coulda fooled me. Temple, you need to tell me what’s going on.”

She looked up into his worried but true-blue brown eyes. “I think I could say the same.”

* * *

Matt was right, but first Temple needed to consult with … ditch … her not-client. She excused herself to head for the ladies’ room. This was Vegas, so it was a mini-nightclub all on its own. Dark and glossy with furtive reflections and pink fluorescent lights framing the over-sink mirrors so every woman looked like a movie star.

“What is going on?” she demanded when Farnum answered her call.

“We’ve an accidental reveal. Those fleeting seconds I showed you Area 54’s bells and whistles were captured by dozens of amateur videographers from hotel room windows all around. Talk about stunt PR. This is premature but sweet.”

“This is a huge pain in the alien patootie. It will have Unforeseen Consequences. Trust me. Meanwhile, I’m off having a private life, if you don’t mind.”

When she came out of the bathroom, totally unprimped, she eyed Matt sitting at their table, swirling a swizzle stick around in his virtually untouched drink, frowning.

Something invisible was going on here too, and she doubted it would ever be accidentally revealed. She needed to find out why the Chicago deal had gone cold and why he didn’t want to talk to her about it.

Temple sighed, turned off her cell phone, and headed for her fiancé with a feeling of dread.

Chapter 26

Going, Going, Going, Gone … Viral

Temple jerked upright in bed, in the dark, her heart pounding. She’d finally fallen asleep after an awkward dinner with Matt. He gave reason after reason for not taking the job in Chicago: his relocation, her relocation, Louie’s relocation. Loyalty to WCOO and Leticia Brown and her “Ambrosia” syndication. Too many relatives in Chicago, including his clingy cousin Krys, his mother who needed a stable family atmosphere to start out her new marriage.

It was all absolutely true and reasonable and Temple didn’t buy a bit of it. You can’t snow a professional snower, a spin expert. The only thing that rang true was the deep, troubled look in Matt’s eyes.

What was going on?

They’d parted when he had to leave for work, both of them miserable, the would-be festive evening out a debacle, thanks to her crazy day job and his late-night job and everything being knocked out of its orbit by some hidden planet Matt would not reveal to her to save his soul.