Cat in a hot pink Pursuit

is history and your eyes are an astonishing shade of green, your secret is safe.”
    “So what do you think of all the scary things that have been happening?”
    “Scripted,” Kit said promptly. “The producers are bent on stirring things up. Stripping the contestants to their barest emotions.”
    “With this crew of exhibitionist blondes, that’s not hard.”
    “Now, dear, don’t be brutal to blondes. They have so much to overcome nowadays, like Jessica Simpson and Paris Hilton.”
    “So you think we’re all lab rats being teased by the producers? No lurking evil-doer in sight?”
    “Oh, evil-doers are always lurking. I often use them in my books. Is that why you’re here, pretending to be young and difficult? Who would be so dreadful as to force you back into revisiting your teen years? That dishy boyfriend I met in New York? Max... something... yum-yum?”
    “Max isn’t aware of this. I’m here on unofficial police business. Well, unofficial official police business.”
    “Surely no one is taking this circus of hokey threats seriously?”
    Temple didn’t feel she could mention the mutilated poster and Molina’s concern for her daughter’s safety. For once she agreed with her enemy. Something nasty was going on here. But what?
    “Maybe not.” Temple rose from her seat upon the commode, reassured. “I hope you didn’t lose any major inspiration.”
    “No. Guido was about to do something interesting with a box of Lady Godiva chocolates. Deep dark bitter chocolates, do you think, dear, or perhaps white ones?”
    “Never touch ‘em,” Temple said, retreating toward the main room. “I’d better get back on observation. For some reason, the Teen Queen team gets nervous if they don’t know where I am every minute.”
    “You’re a perfect little delinquent, Xoe Chloe Ozone! That’s why. My straitlaced sister would be... appalled.”
    “You won’t ever tell Mom?”
    “Not if you don’t tell her about my quandary with Guido and the gourmet candies. Karen was always so...
    Midwest”
    “If you stay in town long enough after this is over, Aunt, remind me to introduce you to the Fontana brothers.”
    “Mobsters? I can always do research.”
    “Yum-yum young mobsters. Definitely the white chocolate type.” ifReally?” Kit rose from her seat upon the tub surround to show Temple out, like Lady Macbeth rising from trying out the throne of Scotland. “Plural, you say. Very intriguing.”
    “Thanks for the use of the biffy,” Temple/Xoe said once they were within mike and camera range again in the main office room. “I’ve got eighty million little tiny hairs to rinse off from that salon job they gave me. You’d think that Adair guy was a mini-Bucky Beaver.”
    “You look smashing. A death of a thousand hair snips is worth the agony for the result. Take lots of long showers to rinse off the little pricklers, and keep your selfesteem up. You show great potential, Xoe, if you don’t get stubborn and blow it.”
    “Thank you, ma’am,” Temple returned, emphasizing the “ma’am” as Kit grimaced in distaste. “I’ll do my best to be a candidate you all can be proud of.”
    Then she left, without gagging, miraculously.



Two-Faced

    While my Miss Temple is doing the beauty bit, I spend my time prowling from boudoir to kitchen. My two favorite chambers, it is true, but at least Miss Midnight Louise is not around this time to point out my failings.
    I have been accepted as a walking mascot, always good for the occasional camera shot. So have the Persian girls. I hear the camera operators slavering over our natural grace and good looks. We have no bad angles, they say. Unlike other objects of their lenses, apparently.
    Of course, a full head... and shoulders... and legs... and tail of hair does wonders to hide any conformation flaws. And our eyes are naturally green without benefit of artificial enhancement. And the Ashleigh girls are the reigning hair color, silver and golden blonde. I must admit that my Miss Temple looks alarmingly unlike herself even with the dead-skunk hairdo now history.
    Things are proceeding apace here at the Teen Queen Castle, and I am getting more nervous by the moment.
    perhaps this atmosphere of female pheromones has lulled the male factor into a stupor. Even Rafi Nadir, a man meant to notice danger if not bring it into play himself, is strangely mellow. He is demonstrating a certain gallantry to these mostly underage ladies, especially the younger