Unknown - 23_Cat_In_A_Vegas_Gold_Vendetta

“No, I did not see any cats.” Matt turned her to go back inside.

“Why are you frowning?” she wanted to know. “I know you’re tired and don’t want company just before racing off to WCOO. All that daytime-TV business in Chicago must have been exhausting. And, say, we never discussed the family matters you said were kicking up.”

By then they were back inside and she was hanging off him like a fond climbing vine.

“Temple, you’ve got enough questions to keep the WCOO call-in line busy for the whole Midnight Hour. Yeah, it’s a bit disorienting to be back after all that’s happened, and that’s why I’m afraid I blew it tonight.”

Her sudden silence reminded Matt that he wasn’t the only one who’d returned after an absence, after a much longer and more dramatic absence than his own week-long jaunt.

“I don’t know what’s got you wired,” he told her, “but the last thing I’m going to do with the rest of the hour—before I have to leave to listen to everyone else’s troubles—is sleep, so maybe you could get me some hyperdrive, too.”

“Just get comfy on the infamous Communist couch, and I’ll bring us two Diet Cokes with lime.”

“The ‘infamous Communist couch’?” he asked when she returned to put the glasses on the matched small coffee tables fronting the sinuous length of red-suede couch.

“This is where WCOO had you do that barefoot lounge pose for their first Midnight Hour billboard. It’s by the fifties designer Vladimir Kagan, and it’s red. Red as in ‘Communist,’ back in the day. So assume the position and I’ll cozy up.”

Matt laughed as he kicked off his casual suede loafers and made room for Temple to curl up alongside him.

“When you’re on TV,” she said, “you won’t get away with wearing polo shirts and chinos, even if they come from men’s shops on the Strip.”

“You mean I’ll have to dress on camera like Regis Philbin? Then it’s no deal.”

“Okay,” Temple said. “We can discuss the details of your media future in full daylight. For now, back to my questions. The cats.”

“I didn’t spot any feral colony before I left town, and didn’t see a whisker since we got back tonight. Not even Midnight Louie’s.”

“Me neither, not in the past twenty-four hours, anyway. Which is odd. Usually he’s patrolling the Circle Ritz at night. He’s very territorial, you know.”

“I know,” Matt said, untying the soft knit bow at her nape that held up the loose top.

“I’m forgetting all those questions,” she warned.

“I think I’d like that about now.”

“Wait. This is most important. What’s up with your family?”

Matt leaned back, pulling her atop him. “The good news is our getting married would hardly ruffle a Polish feather.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s my mother’s getting married that has the extensive extended family in an uproar.”

“Your mother? Remarrying? That’s wonderful. Maybe we can make it a double ceremony.”

“Temple.” He put a hand over her mouth. “Temple, Temple. Always the PR hotshot. No, we do not want to be involved in any way in my mother’s marital plans. I did mention that a distinguished older guy seemed to be sweet on her at the tourist-spot Polish restaurant where she’s a hostess?”

“Yeah, I guess. You said she was coming out of her self-imposed shell after punishing herself for having you out of wedlock—wedlock, that does sound mandatory and icky—by marrying that abusive loser, um, Efflinger, Essing.…”

“Effinger. Cliff Effinger.”

“Right. Effinger. But he went down with the Treasure Island’s old pirate-ship attraction, after someone bound him to the bow to go to a watery grave when the ship was sunk during the evening spectacle. So your mom’s free to remarry, even by the Catholic Church’s standards.”

Matt shook his head in disbelief. “That’s not the problem. She’s perfectly free to marry. I think it’d be wonderful if she did marry someone. I would even give her away, since she’s old-fashioned and probably willing to be given away.… What would you do about being ‘given away,’ Temple?”

“Oh, I’d let my father waltz me down the aisle. I am the only daughter. I really couldn’t deprive the old folks at home of their traditional roles just because the custom is sexist.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” Matt said, kissing her just as sweetly.

Temple was not about to be diverted from the latest news as soon as the kiss ended.

“You still didn’t tell me what’s bad about your family situation. Sounds peachy to me. Postmenopausal romance, like my aunt Kit’s. Marriage to a guy who sounds like a pillar of the community, if not a Fontana brother. Don’t you think your mom deserves a second chance?”

Matt sighed and explained. “It’s not peachy. Mom’s finally met her restaurant Romeo’s family. Her new guy happens to be my birth father’s brother.”

Temple gasped and put her own hand over her mouth before it outpaced her mind. “Wow. When you tried to arrange a meeting after you found your birth father, your mom walked out, refusing to meet him. She must hate him.”

“I’ve left them all alone since my brilliant attempt at failed mediation,” Matt said. “My real dad is married, but not happily anymore, though he never said so. I don’t know if he married in the Church. And my mom—they were teenagers who met in a church, for God’s sake. He was bound out of the country for service the next day, so the attraction must have been instant and intense.… I figure they both never got over it and they’re scared to death of each other. The whole situation’s impossible.”

“That family meeting must have been horribly awkward. And your mom told her strict Catholic relatives?”

“She didn’t. She just broke off the relationship with my father’s brother, and they all think she’s crazy.”

Temple shook her head. “What a tragic mess.”

“Mister Midnight here doesn’t know what to tell anybody, except to get off each other’s case.”

“Matt.” He looked hard at her because of the “more bad news” tone of voice.

“I hate to bring this up, but if this … family tangle got out, couldn’t it hurt your reputation as an advice-giving talk-show host?”

He looked dumbfounded. “I never thought of that.”

“And that’s why I love you,” Temple said, “but PR is my business. I have to say if your media presence is due for a huge upswing, the paparazzi and Internet rumors will be all over you and everything about you. Especially your roots and family.”

“Even us, Temple? Even you?”

She fake-punched his bicep. “I’m a media girl. I can take it, big boy. I just think you better get the situation with your mother and the two brothers straightened out before this deal goes public.”

“Or goes through,” he said. “Meanwhile, tomorrow is another day.” He pulled the knit straps down past her elbows, tangling her in his embrace.

Temple looked surprised and very pleased. “Oh. We, uh, don’t have a lot of time before you need to leave for the station.”

“I’ve got a fast car and I’m from Chicago. We do everything fast and hard there,” he said, rolling her over and under him, “and Chicago girls like it that way.”

Chapter 25

Wait for The Midnight Hour

Matt got into his new car in the Circle Ritz parking lot, settled his body into the multiple adjustable settings of his choice, and said an Our Father.

His “daily bread” was getting way out of hand. Still, he enjoyed sitting back in the cushy leather, almost asphyxiated by “new car” smell. If this was a pot-sweetener, the producers were beyond serious. So was the current situation in Las Vegas. Dare he even consider leaving now? Keep the car and Chicago, and lose Temple. Or lose the car? No contest.