Both friends laughed, and Odelia smiled. It was great to be in the presence of these two icons, legends in their chosen field. Gran, though, didn’t look happy. At all.
“Have you been able to get in touch with Hank?” asked Odelia.
“No! He seems to have vanished from the face of the earth. I’m thinking about going to the cops.”
“Oh, that boy is probably just having fun,” said Opal.
“Or maybe he’s been in an accident,” said Gran. “Or been mugged.”
“Or maybe he’s having so much fun he lost track of time,” said Marilyn. “Trust me, Vesta. I’ve seen it before. People arrive in town, cool as cucumbers, and before you know it they go completely loco. This town has that effect on people. It’s a little like Vegas.”
“Hank isn’t the kind of guy to go loco,” said Gran stubbornly. “He comes from a respectable home, and I promised his mom and dad I’d take care of him.”
“His mom and dad? You told me you didn’t know his mom and dad,” said Marge.
Odelia was also surprised. “Yeah, you told me he’s a gigolo.”
Gran grinned. “I did, didn’t I? And you should have seen the look on your face.” Her grin quickly faded. “Of course Hank is not a gigolo, and he’s not my boyfriend, either. I just said that because you can’t keep your nose out of my business. Hank is Frank and Rita Peterson’s son, and when I told them I was coming to LA they asked me to bring him along. Hank is working on his master’s thesis about the movie industry and was dying to visit LA but couldn’t afford it, so I told his parents he could tag along if he liked.”
“I really thought he was your boyfriend,” said Marge.
“Well, he’s not. And let this be a lesson to you. Hank is a nice boy whose parents asked me to do them a favor, all right? And now leave me alone. I need to find him before they tear me limb from limb.” And with these words she put her phone to her ear and was soon bellowing, “Hank! Pick up the phone! I’ll tell your mom if you don’t pick up!”
Alec woke up feeling stiff and store. He opened his eyes and wondered why the mattress had suddenly become as hard as a board. But when he looked around, he realized he was on the floor.
How had he gotten there? And what was that loud snoring sound?
He pushed himself up on his elbows and peered over the edge of the bed. Tangled up in the sheets, Chase was lying, snoring away, and occupying the bed’s entire acreage.
“Oh, no, you didn’t,” said Alec, getting up. Before he could manage, though, pain shot through his chest and he plunked back down. “Owowowow,” he yammered.
The snoring abruptly stopped and a face peered down at him. “Alec? You all right down there, bud?”
“No, I’m not all right!” he said, grasping his chest. First his left man boob, then his right man boob. “I have terrible chest pain! I think I might be having a heart attack.”
Chase had the audacity to laugh!
“Hey, it’s not funny! Better call a doctor. Or, better yet, call an ambulance!”
“It’s not your heart, buddy. It’s your chest muscles. How’s your back?”
He moved a little, and excruciating pains shot through his back.
“It’s radiating out to my back! It’s cardiac arrest—I know it! Call an ambulance!”
“It’s your workout, not your heart. You worked those muscles pretty hard yesterday, and now they’re complaining about what you put them through.”
“What I put them through! What you put me through!”
“Hey, you have to start somewhere. Here, let me help you up.”
With a groan, and pain shooting through both his chest and back muscles, he got to his feet. “Owowowow,” he cried. “That hurts.”
“What you need is a hot shower and a relaxing massage,” said Chase. “And you’re in luck: they got both here at the Grand Continental.”
“I hate you, Chase Kingsley,” he said as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. “And why did you push me out of the bed?”
“I didn’t push you. You fell.”
“A likely story.”
“No, really. And since I didn’t want to wake you—”
“You decided to leave me lying on the floor. Nice!”
“Let’s get you into that shower, and while you’re soaking under that hot stream I’ll book you a nice massage. How does that sound? And maybe we’ll throw in a sauna.”
“No workouts today?” he asked.
“No workouts today. I promise.”
“Mh. All right, then,” he grumbled, and shuffled towards the bathroom.
Ten minutes later, he was slowly starting to feel human again, his sore muscles gently massaged by the pleasantly powerful stream of hot water. And by the time he exited the walk-in shower, Chase announced they were both booked for a sauna at ten, and massages at eleven. “And no conference,” Chase said sternly.
“We’re playing hooky again?” Alec asked.
“Yep. Doctor’s orders. I’ll quickly pop into the shower and then we’ll head down for breakfast, okay? At least,” he said, halting in the bathroom doorway, “if you feel up for it.”
The thought of that delicious breakfast buffet did much to lift the police chief’s mood. “I’m feeling up for it,” he announced bravely.
“I thought as much,” said his deputy with a cheeky grin, and disappeared into the shower before the spongy hotel slipper Alec aimed at his head could find its target.
Chapter 24
We’d finally arrived at the beauty parlor, and the driver dropped us off at the back, so as not to attract any attention. We quickly hurried inside, presumably to thwart any attempts by lurking paparazzi or other lookie-loos to catch sight of us, and soon found ourselves inside the beauty parlor proper. It was a nice parlor, as parlors go, though I have to admit I don’t have a lot of experience with beauty parlors, never having actually set paw inside one before.
There was a row of seats where presumably people had their hair done, judging from the sinks and the mirrors and the hair salon trays, a station where pedicures and manicures were executed, and of course there were tanning beds, a sauna, and even a hot tub where people could relax. All in all, a paradise for the ladies, but not for us cats.
At least not until we were led by a very kind-faced young woman to another part of the building, and suddenly found ourselves in pet paradise indeed: there was a play area where several pets were having fun with a multitude of toys in all shapes and sizes, scratching posts that reached all the way to the ceiling, a pet grooming station where currently a long-haired mutt was being relieved of his excess mane, and even a pedicurist devoted to those little pet nails, currently working on a Chihuahua.
“Pamper paradise,” said Harriet, a little breathlessly.
“It’s nice here,” said Prunella. “I come here almost every week. It’s basically a glorified waiting room for pets while their humans are gussied up next door, but I like it.”
“I like it, too,” said Harriet. “In fact I think I could live here.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” I said.
“What? Oh, you mean food? I’m sure they have a kitchen around here somewhere.”
“We’re not here to be primped and prinked. We’re here to find our original selves in that cryogenic freezer.”
“Oh, right,” she said, clearly having completely forgotten about our special mission.
As luck would have it, the cloning lab and the pet salon and the beauty parlor were all part of the same operation. A one-stop shop, so to speak, where rich people could have their precious furballs pampered, but also cloned if they happened to drop dead overnight.
“Somewhere in this building is a cloning facility,” I said, addressing the troops, “and we need to find it and figure out whether we were, indeed, cloned or not.”
“Cloned?” asked Prunella, curious. “Are you cloned?”
“That’s what we need to find out,” I said. “Maybe you could help us?”