Cat in a hot pink Pursuit

mother’s side.”
    “My mother would beat you to death with a fast-food chicken limb if she knew what you were asking her baby daughter to do.”
    “She can do it with my blessing if both our baby daughters don’t come through this. I wouldn’t let either one of you even try out if I weren’t pretty sure that this... pageant threat is a long shot. All the finalists will be confined to the same quarters for two weeks. Very hard for a bad actor to get in.”
    “Or easy. Film crews are gypsies, hard to do background checks on them.”
    “We’ll know them from the birthmarks out.”
    “And you’ll really give Max a free pass from now on?” Molina raised her right hand. “Absolutely. Unless he stands there with a smoking gun over a dead body right under my nose, I’ll totally forget he hangs out somewhere in this toddling town, up to murky business and possibly larceny or even murder. If you can live with that uncertainty, I can.”
    “You have him so wrong.”
    “I don’t have him. You do. That’s your problem. It’s a crime I have to compromise on this, but I’m off his case.”
    “If I do this. Wow. How long do I have to get into character? I’ll need... cool clothes. Um, a couple body piercings, ears at least. A quick rundown on the latest slang and hot boy bands.”
    Molina was reaching into that bottomless briefcase again. “You’ll have to try out locally but you’ll need to bring a tape. Here’s Mariah’s winning little number. Can we check it out?”
    “Other room.”
    Temple was feeling pretty numb as she followed Molina there, but then the bipolar reactions set in. Shocked/challenged. Scared/excited. Worried/confident.
    Molina shot the video tape into its slot and Temple manned the remote.
    In a minute they were both hunkered down on the sofa, watching with fascination as Mariah spoke, sang a clever pitch, and cavorted for the camera.
    “This is Mariah?” Temple marveled. “I haven’t seen her for a while. She’s really grown.”
    “Teened out,” Molina said grimly.
    “Who filmed this?”
    “New friend from a tough school. I’m lucky the only thing that girl talked Mariah into doing behind my back was this nonsense.”
    “Didn’t she need your permission to do this?”
    “One would hope, but nope. It was only an ‘open preliminary audition.’ The permissions come later, when or if the girls are actually accepted for the reality show cast, and there are a ton of them. As there should be. And... the show selected her.
    “We’ve already got the preshooting packet. Mariah will be put on a diet. Sensible, they claim. She’ll have acting and singing classes. She’ll get clothes and a cosmetic Extreme Teen makeover and will generally hang out with her peers while competing ferociously.”
    “So what’s so different between this and junior high?”
    “Catholic school. Mariah hasn’t been exposed to the dark side of adolescence. She’ll be a chick in a yard full of foxes.”
    “Maybe you’ve protected her too much.”
    “Maybe.” Molina grabbed the remote and stopped the film.
    “You’re expecting me to get selected? The competition for my so-called age group—Senior Teen Queen—must be killer.”
    “I hope not. I’m counting on you being just as able and clever as Mariah in getting attention, even if it’s the wrong kind.”
    “Then there’s that dumb luck thing of mine.”
    “Exactly.” Molina stood. “The tape’s a copy. You can study it. I gotta admit the kid has chutzpah. Sophistication won’t cut it. You’ll have to find your inner teen queen. Your shoe collection should help.”
    “And you’ll really, really, forget about Max?”
    “Who?”
    Temple nodded. “And if I don’t make the cut and the show doesn’t want me?”
    “Then I still want Kinsella, and this time I’ll get him. For something, even if I have to make it up. But I won’t. He makes it too easy.”
    “Okay. I guess I’ll let you know when I hit”—Temple consulted the fat, glossy, and expensive press kit—“the Teen Queen Castle. Oh, boy.”
    “Oh, girl,” Molina corrected. She wasn’t Molina if she wasn’t correcting somebody.
    Temple showed her out, then gazed down at Louie, who’d accompanied them to the exit like a major domo in a cat suit.
    “Think I can pass as a teen queen, Louie?”
    He rubbed against her ankles, nodding his head up and down as he left his scent on her shin bones. Now that was a vote of confidence!
    Temple returned to the living room