“Lunacy,” Rafi added.
Molina looked up sharply to check if his agreement was sincere.
Temple wondered: if she and Matt had children, what strange symbols would they have to learn to communicate? Aliens R Us. And usually our kids.
Rafi took the phone and, while Temple hung over his shoulder and Molina leaned in to watch, texted: “U sing? Whr R U?” He hesitated and added, “Rafi.”
He shrugged at Molina. “I don’t know if she remembers me but I might come across less threatening than Ms. Policeman.”
New letters appeared on the screen. “Kool, R. Not sing. Dance. Aquarius.”
“As in ‘the age of’?” Molina asked, mystified.
“Not cool, Mombot,” Temple said. “Lyrics from Hair date you back to the Stone Age.”
“You mean the ‘stoned’ age.”
Temple shrugged. “Well, it was the sixties. If I didn’t like vintage and theater, even I wouldn’t have gotten your reference. I wasn’t born yet! It’s High School Musical today, and maybe a revival of Grease, not Hair.”
“U momma dont dance,” Rafi had texted back. “Me n Zoe meetya ther.”
“KOOOL! LOUEE 2?”
“LOUEE 2. Main dsk. 4 hrs OK?”
“OK.”
Molina glared at the cell phone screen, but breathed audible relief, then caught her breath and put a hand to her side. “At least she’s still a runaway, not a hostage.”
“Temple and I will be first contact when we get to the Aquarius,” Rafi said. “It’s a major Laughlin hotel-casino. You hang back.”
“You hang back! I’m her mother.”
“That’s the problem. We don’t want her rabbiting. I’m just the security guy from the last place she was a talent contestant, and Temple’s an ex-roomie, a pal. We’ll find what’s going on, and why. Then you can sweep in and put her in cuffs.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It takes discipline to rear a kid these days.”
“And being in top condition. Come on, Carmen, you’ve got a major pulled muscle, or worse. This race to the rescue hasn’t done you any good physically or mentally. Take some Aleve and make a late entrance as a reasonable woman. We’ll clue you in first.”
“You are a bastard.”
“Yeah, and I’m right.”
Temple added, “Why finally find Mariah just to scare her off? You are the police. We’re not.”
Molina’s hands scrubbed the expression of uncertainty off her face. “Fine. I agree that you two established a more peer-style rapport with Mariah at the reality TV house.” She eyed Rafi. “Keep it that way. You don’t tell her who you are unless I say so.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
Silence rode shotgun with them all the way to Laughlin. They retraced their path on Highway 15, then took 164 east to pick up the last forty-five miles on 95 to Laughlin. The highway paralleled the snaking Colorado River as it flowed out of Hoover Dam. They drove until midmorning, when they finally hit a mini-strip of Vegas-style high-rise hotels. The buildings fronted the river, a distinctively non-Vegas look.
This was a movie model Vegas, miniatures so far. Hotel towers loomed only sixteen or so stories high. The skyline looked less pretentious, less expensive, and more fun, like the old style Vegas, as Rafi had said.
Louie had disdained the tote bag to recline on the seat next to Temple for the drive, but now he had his front paws braced beneath the side window, surveying Laughlin with them. He seemed pretty unimpressed.
“Looks like the kid’s performing ambitions have gone down-scale,” Rafi noted.
“Good!” Molina let her anger off the leash. “Upscale is more dangerous.”
The hotel was a pipsqueak compared to the behemoths that now ruled Vegas yet the lobby was as swanky, with acres of gleaming marble, blazing crystal light fixtures, and a hubbub of echoing voices and luggage wheels.
Molina paced outside the parked Tahoe under the entry canopy while Rafi and Temple in full Zoe personality bustled up to the desk, eyeing the snaking lines of guests checking in.
Louie in his tote bag bumped Zoe’s sixties-patterned hip.
“Jeez, Midnight Louise,” she complained under her breath. “It’s like dangling Big Ben in a sack from your shoulder.”
With that, the tote bag contents shifted and twisted. Louie lofted down to the ritzy floor. In an instant he was a puddle of flowing black India ink, slipping out of sight among the huddled feet and backpacks and wheeled carry-ons, most of them black.
“Oh, shoot!” Zoe cried. “Now we’ve got two of them missing.”
But Rafi was edging expertly through and around the crowds, carving a path for Zoe and in hot pursuit of Louie.
A second later the mobs of people lining the block-long reception desk started rearing back from their prime positions, wailing in dismay. Louie’s ears and tail could be glimpsed taking the high road down the marble desk, scattering credit cards, room cards, and pens as he went.
“That cat dude knows how to cut a swath,” Rafi said. “Come on! I think he knows where we want to go.”
At the end of the reception desk the exclamations and curses stopped abruptly.
Zoe and Rafi broke through the last line, leaving hurt toes and feelings behind them, to see an empty floor. Only a short desk for selling show tickets sat ahead. It took a moment to spot Louie atop it, looking as if he’d just pulled a photo of a magician on a placard out of a hat.
“Louie Too!” Mariah screeched. She shot into view from the right, trying to embrace the big black cat, who ducked expertly behind the placard to avoid having his fur mussed.
Temple stopped dead. “We’ve found her! And she looks perfectly all right. Perfectly normal.”
“Yeah,” Rafi said behind her, his tone pleased. “But don’t let looks fool you. Kids this age are never perfectly normal.”
“Would you want one who was?” Temple asked.
Rafi was regarding his daughter with satisfaction, even a bit of pride. “Nope.”
She was wearing orange Capris and a yellow-and-green sixties-print smock top with fluorescent poison-green flip-flops and carried a lavender canvas backpack for a purse. The girl’s Dutch bob of highlighted blond over brunet looked hip but wholesome for a soon-to-be high school freshman nowadays. Temple felt a pang that Mariah could accessorize Teen Fashion Queen without even trying, when Zoe Chloe had to really work her look.
“Mom’s gonna freak,” she muttered to Rafi, “but Mariah looks like she knows what she’s doing.”
“Terrifying,” he muttered back. “Let’s find out what that is before Momcat gets here.”
Mariah turned to greet them with no guilt, like they were here to join a fun party.
“How’d you guys hear about this?” she asked. “Did the Dance Partee people hire you as security because of the Teen Queen house gig?” she asked Rafi. “And you’re a little old to compete,” she told Temple-Zoe. “But you look cool, as always.”
“Your mom’s worried about you,” Zoe said with a twinge of Temple disapproval.
Big sigh. “I sent her a text message. She’s been too bummed to even notice I’m gone. I hadda do this! Ekaterina heard she could try out and she needs something to keep her in this country, or she’ll just die! I mean, maybe literally. Could be the publicity will help. And she’s just made the finals! Is this a great country or what?”
Mariah was hopping up and down with excitement.
Rafi put a big hand on her hyperactive shoulder. “Your mom’s been worried sick about you, and you’re right, she’s already sick. How could you do this to her? It was really stupid and selfish.”
Mariah’s glee wilted in the face of adult male disapproval. Her eyelashes batted back regret. She’d thought Rafi had been cool. “Oh, Mom’ll be fine. She always is. But EK is a Chechnya refugee and her family’s only chance. I had to help her.”