Cat In An Indigo Mood

Chapter 22

Shoot!

"Oh, no," Matt said, backing away from Temple.

"Just the teensiest bit!"

"No."

"It won't hurt. Please!"

He finally stopped, because he was backed up against a kitchen cupboard.

Her fingers were reaching for his face.

"Just a dab here and there, to balance the shadows. Don't think of it as makeup. Think of it as . . . air-brushing."

She dabbed on the concealer and stepped back to admire her work.

"Great!"

"This is ludicrous," Matt grumbled.

"No, it's getting set up for a photograph. Max has done this three dozen times without a whimper."

"Oh, well, if Max has done it--" Matt edged away from the cupboard as if expecting another attack.

Temple couldn't help noticing that he was careful to avoid too-close contact with her ever since . . . well, ever since. A good sign, she decided. They were still Friends.

She checked her watch. "They're late."

"It doesn't matter. I've got all afternoon. You might not, though."

"No, I don't have a time problem. I just don't want anything to . . . deteriorate."

"You mean me."

"These things are like meringue, infinitely touchy." She glanced at entry area. "That's one reason I've confined Louie to a carrier. Besides the fact that he's been in and out lately like a second-story man, we don't want stray black hairs all over that red sofa, or your new shirt."

She couldn't resist dusting the shirt folds with her other hand, untainted by makeup, in case any Louie hairs had wafted out of the carrier and sped through the air to adhere to the sand-colored silk shirt she had decided would be the best way to go.

"We need to roll these long sleeves up to just below the elbow."

"We?" Matt asked as her actions followed her words. "What if Leticia doesn't like it and the silk's all wrinkled?"

"Then we get out the steamer, fast."

"Steamer?"

"Don't sweat the small stuff. I have one downstairs."

Matt nodded, looking like a dazed five year old in the school play. Which he probably was, at this point.

"Relax. Once they set up the background and we get you settled in it and add Louie at the last minute, the actual photography won't take long."

"How long will the setup take?"

"Oh, an hour or so, if we're lucky."

"An hour?"

"Time will fly. It'll be interesting to watch the photographer set up, all the silver umbrellas and stuff."

"Why do l feel like my apartment is becoming a set for Sing in the Rain?"

"Because it is." Temple flashed her breeziest smile as the doorbell rang. "Don't move.

You might muss something. I'll be gofer."

She flew to the door and flung it open.

The opening was filled with an icebergian presence: a black woman in white---a large black woman in white with the face of a supermodel.

"Hi, I'm Temple. I was here helping Matt get ready. You must be--"

"Leticia." She pronounced it Lay-tee-sea-uh. "This here's Nance, the photo-wizard." Nance was built like a Big Mac, with a very butch buzz cut of artificially white hair and a rose tattoo on her left bicep, which was also very butch.

Temple wondered how Matt would take this latest wrinkle in his new media career.

Very well, it turned out. Perhaps the dots of concealer had undone him. He watched Nance sling down her aluminum forest of tripods and various bulky black bags that resembled something the mafia would carry; violins in, looking like someone who had just as swiftly rejected the courteous notion of offering to help someone else.

"Hey, nice rags," Leticia greeted Matt. She frowned. "I don't like the shoes, though."

He stared down, perplexed that she had so swiftly seen, judged, and rejected something as minor as what was on his feet.

"Well, they're innocuous." Temple too stared at his khaki suede Hush Puppies.

"Innocuous is not what I'm after here."

Temple nodded. "Maybe we need to do something bold. But nothing black."

"Absolutely. Nothing black."

"Barefoot?" they asked each other at the same time.

Two simultaneous nods.

"The barefoot shrink is in," Temple suggested.

"Right on."

"Would you two mind speaking logic?" Matt asked.

"Don't worry about it," Temple waved him off. "Just one of those creative details that have to he invented rather than planned."

Nance said nothing except the occasional grunt as she studied the Kagan sofa like a target.

Matt sat down on one of the kitchen chairs.

"You might not want to do that," Temple advised. "Could wrinkle your pants."

"If this takes as long as you said--"

"You can lean against a wall," she suggested helpfully.

He turned to do so.

"As long as you check to make sure it's not dusty or stained or wet or something."

"Maybe I'll wait in the hall."

"Good idea," Leticia agreed. "That overhead light is really weak. You going to be able to compensate. Nance?"

"Yeah," came the answer.

A woman of few words. Temple and Leticia sized each other up now that they were virtually alone.

"Well, aren't you the cutest thing?" Leticia led first.

"I don't do cute."

"I don't either, but I'd like to not do it at your size rather than at mine."

"But you're gorgeous the way you are."

"Thanks, child, but my calf is a size six. You look like your whole body isn't a size six. You his girlfriend?"

Temple smiled. "Friend."

Leticia smiled back. "You seem to know your wardrobes, girl."

"I thought of white shirt and blue jeans, but with the red sofa that would have been too Fourth of July. So I went for the gold."

"Shades of camel. Works inside a red Porsche. Color coordination why you're here ?"

"Actually, that's my cat in the carrier."

"No kidding! That is some cat. I liked him the moment l saw him lolling all over that big red sofa. If he could talk, I'd sign him up too. So there's no fuss with using his buns in our photo?"

"No. I just checked a few hours ago. His cat food contract is film-specific."

"You know your legalese too."

Temple smiled, but said nothing.

"You ever work as an agent?"

"No. But I could."

"Hmm."

"Just what have you got in mind for . . . my client?"

"I thought you were friends."

"And so much more."

"This is a test. Ambrosia really pulls the listeners. I get the boys and a bunch of the girls.

I thought it was time to give the girlfriends a little something extra. I produce my own show.

I call the shots. But l don't have to hog the spotlight. I'm pretty secure. I never mind adding a new wrinkle. Keeps the audience interested. Too bad we're not video-radio, though."

"Yeah, well, Matt's probably more comfortable in an audio medium anyway."

"He's such a sweet, sexy guy, and he doesn't even know it."

"That's why he's such a sweet, sexy guy."

"Just what I need for my Mr. Midnight. Today's woman doesn't want some alleycat dude, where you don't know where that private dick has been. They want a tried-and-true down-home kinda dude they can cocoon with, know what I mean?"

"I know what you mean," Temple said.

Apparently their girl-talk was upsetting the natives.

"Ready," Nance spoke up gruffly.

Temple darted into the hall to find Matt, arms folded, holding up the wall. "You can come in now."

"Thanks." He returned to his apartment to find a spawn of electric-cord snakes writhing over the floor amid a forest of aluminum tripods squatting before the sofa, as well as an overhead canopy of open silver umbrellas to right and left.

"A good thing I don't have much furniture in here," he said.

"Just one good piece that counts," Leticia said with a wink, nodding to the big red sofa.