Carole Douglas - Cat in a Zebra Zoot Suit

She picked up her cell phone and speed-dialed Matt’s apartment to make up.

There was no answer. She closed her eyes. Such a stupid thing to quarrel over. With all that had happened, of course Matt was hypersensitive about her staying safe. With Electra fearing for her livelihood, of course Temple felt obliged to be there for her.

Now maybe Matt wouldn’t be there for Temple. She had to admit it was an impulsive outing that courted bad outcomes. She’d apologize, if only…

Her doorbell rang. She ran to open the door, phone in hand.

“Matt! I was just calling you.”

He had his cell phone in hand. “Me too.”

“I’m sorry,” they said together, then laughed.

They bumped the wrists of their cell phone-holding hands and then hugged.

“I guess these smart phones are smarter than we are,” Matt said. “I just worry about you.”

“It was a stupid stunt. Electra was so upset and she would have gone alone. Now look at the mess we’re all in. Dyson dead. Police interrogations. Us quarreling.”

“We better drop these cell phones,” Matt said, steering her to the sofa and pulling her down on it with him. “We communicate much better face-to-face.”

“ Umm ,” Temple agreed a couple minutes later, stretching her formerly stressed-out shoulders and neck.

Matt gave her a last kiss and picked up his cell phone.

“Hey, I thought a cell phone wasn’t ever going to come between us again,” Temple said.

“This one has to,” Matt said with a smile. “While we were too worried and busy to check, Tony Valentine left a message. I just called him back. He wants a meeting as soon as possible, requesting your attendance.”

“My attendance? Matt! An agent wouldn’t ask a significant other along for a business meeting unless he had a huge offer. The network must have green-lighted your new talk show.”

“You think?” He looked a bit dazed. “I haven’t exactly encouraged them lately.”

“No, you didn’t. You had to drop your career plans to play the hero-decoy and make yourself a target for a psycho. Three a.m. ‘counseling’ sessions with Kitty the Cutter! I’m sure she pulled out all her seductive wiles.”

“I’m temptress-proof. She threatened you, Temple. I’d do anything necessary to keep you from harm.”

“Actually,” Temple said, “your being so noncommittal with the Chicago suits probably was savvy negotiating. Now. Where are my lucky shoes? I think I’ll be clicking my heels together and chanting ‘There’s no place like Water Tower Place’ soon.”

Matt picked her up and spun her around. “I’m ready to leave Las Vegas too,” he said, “but which are your lucky shoes?” He set her down carefully on her three-inch-high heels.

“Anything that coordinates with what I’m wearing when I’m with you. You know what?”

“What?” Matt smiled down at her.

Temple was glad to see that recent faint wince of worry had vanished from his warm brown eyes. “I’m going to celebrate the big deal Tony has for you by getting some new shoes at the Stuart Weitzman boutique in the Caesars’ shopping mall. Is that too extravagant?”

“Anything your big heart and tiny feet desire. Your stock of estate sale and resale shoes have earned some fresh high-design spikes.”

“It’s silly, but when you’ve spent your entire life staring into people’s shoulder blades in crowds, a spiffy heel assist is so esteem-building.”

“I’m sure Tony will be pleased to underwrite such a noble objective while collecting his percentage.” Matt frowned.

“What?” Temple asked in her turn.

“I let Kathleen’s taunts get to me, and upped the amount of my income via speaking engagements from Tony that goes to charity from ten to twenty percent. It occurs to me I don’t have a right to reduce my income when I’m not just me, but a ‘we’.”

“Gosh, you are a saint in the making.” Temple shook her head. “You can do what you want with your money, but including some animal causes among the charities would appease your shoe-hound fiancée. What a guy! Not only generous, but you want to honor your word made to an armed and dangerous psychopath.”

“How’d you know Kathleen was armed?”

Temple felt her mouth go dry. “I didn’t. I was speaking metaphorically. Armed with a gun even then? And you went back for more?”

“Not a gun. Straight razor. I only had to take it away from her once, when she got overwrought.”

“Unbelievable. You are one cool guy, but it’s time we got outa Dodge. Speaking metaphorically again.”

“I understood Kathleen. She had absolutely no power until she escaped the Magdalene asylum. She needs to flaunt it now. And she’s not here anymore. She’s off in the wilds of Northern Ireland, playing tag with Max.”

“Enough of that woman in our lives. I’m going to fetch my currently lucky shoes…the zebra-stripe numbers from the successful trip up north.” Temple consulted the large-face watch on her wrist. “And then it’ll be time to leave for Tony Valentine’s office. Lord, that’s a great surname for an agent. Every new gig is a Valentine gift.”

Tall, with a full head of taffy-white hair, Tony Valentine looked more like a classics professor than what entertainment agents had been called for decades, a “ten-percenter”…although nowadays a package fee of three percent could be charged on top of it.

Temple didn’t know how Matt had lucked out in getting a patrician-looking agent in a profession where agents were often regarded as crass, greedy and possibly crooked.

Then again, not looking like all of those things could be a license to steal.

As a PR person, Temple had met all kinds of people. As a sometime amateur detective she’d met plenty of the crass, greedy and crooked, and Tony Valentine passed her character test.

“Late-night talk-show shoes,” he commented as she and Matt sat down, “but with class.”

Correction: Tony passed with an A-plus. “Thanks. I’m so excited to hear what you’ve got to say. Matt is wonderful with people and on talk radio and on The Amanda Show . I may be prejudiced, but the network is going to be blown away.”

While Matt looked properly abashed by her gushing, Temple noticed that Tony Valentine was growing more and more amused.

“Temple,” Matt warned. “You’re overdoing my virtues.”

“No, I’m not. Guys can’t have sissy things like ‘virtues’, they just have strong points.”

Tony leaned back in his cushy leather chair. Behind him, through a billboard-size window-wall, the sunlit Vegas Strip glittered like a river with lane-to-lane lines of hot metal melted into liquid mercury.

“Yes, I’ve heard from the network,” Tony agreed, “but Matt’s future isn’t the reason I called you here today.” He tapped long tapered fingertips together.

While Tony enjoyed a dramatic silence, Temple exchanged a bewildered glance with Matt, who leaned forward.

“I know,” Matt said, “I’ve maybe been a little indecisive with the network. Some personal issues have been a distraction. I wouldn’t blame them for backing off.”

Tony let his reclining seat snap upright. “You two aren’t calling off the wedding?”

“There’s nothing formally decided, like a date, if it would interfere,” Temple explained, wondering whether the network had concluded it would prefer an eligible Matt.

“It’s on, more than ever,” Matt said, taking Temple’s hand.

“Glad to hear it.” Tony beamed like a presiding clergyman, ready to direct them to exchange vows and rings. “Actually, I have an unexpected offer from a client of the network’s. It’s a bit awkward, since I don’t represent either of the entities in the deal.”