was old news. Today was a new gastronomical adventure.
While getting tuna-and-whitefish bites for her breakfast snack, I noticed Fran had posted a diagram on the cupboard door detailing escape routes from the building, TAKE TIME TO CHECK THE LOCATION OF YOUR NEAREST EXIT she had put in large scarlet letters along the bottom. Since, as I'd pointed out to Fran earlier, the choice was the front door or the back door, this information did seem rather unnecessary. I said so to Ariana.
'Visitors to the building may not know the location of the exits,' she said with her usual cool logic.
I had to concede she was right. An outraged meow brought my attention back to the most important item on the agenda, breakfast for Jules. She watched intently as I poured a moderate measure of tuna-and-whitefish bites into her bowl. I swear she was counting the little fish-shaped things. Apparently the total wasn't to her liking, because she narrowed her eyes.
'A larger helping, Jules? Of course. What could I have been thinking of?'
Ariana gave a small laugh. 'You need to acquire a dog, Kylie. Gussie treats me with great respect, firmly convinced I'm the head of the household.'
Ariana's German shepherd was the perfect combination of strength, intelligence, and grace. Gussie was fiercely protective of Ariana, but to those she knew and trusted, there couldn't be a sweeter, more even-tempered dog. And Gussie had a bonzer sense of humor. I'd seen her grin when she found something amusing.
'What's that saying about dogs and cats?' I remarked, filling my kettle at the tap. 'To dogs, humans are absolute monarchs, but to cats, they're servants?'
'Something like that.' Ariana looked at me over the rim of her coffee mug. Her face was so pale that her eyes, if it were possible, seemed even bluer than usual. 'You must be curious.'
She didn't need to elaborate. 'I confess I am,' I said.
Ariana grimaced. 'I don't blame you. I overreacted and made it seem more significant than it really was.'
I didn't say anything.
Ariana said, 'Would you do something for me?'
I looked at her warily. 'Possibly. What?'
'Don't pursue it, Kylie, please. It's better for both of us if you forget the whole thing.'
I gazed at her for a long moment. 'I didn't Google her name. I didn't do anything to find out who she was.'
'Thank you for that.'
'But I'd be lying if I said I'd forget. Obviously whoever Natalie is, she's important to you. That makes her important to me.'
I was jolted to see tears in Ariana's eyes. She blinked rapidly, then took a breath. Whatever she might have been about to say was lost when Melodie bounced into the kitchen, having arrived at work astonishingly early by her standards.
'Quip's written a play!' she announced. 'It's going to be staged in a little theater on La Cienega Boulevard. That's just the beginning. Quip's thinking off-Broadway.' She paused, smiling, to let us absorb this, then added, 'Fran's coming in before work with audition scripts so I can go over them before tonight!'
Melodie fanned her blond hair fetchingly in a head toss she'd got down to a fine art. 'The stage is real acting,' she declared. 'You and the audience magically bond in a profound dramatic relationship. Live theater challenges an actor to dig deep, to reveal the hidden depths of her craft.'
'Good morning, Melodie,' I said.
'Oh, hi, Kylie. Hi, Ariana. Isn't it great news?'
'Very exciting,' said Ariana, picking up her mug from the counter. She turned at the doorway to say, 'Kylie, when you get back from your first day at UCLA I'd like to hear how it went.'
'Right-oh,' I said, offhand.
I wanted to follow her to her office. I wanted to say, 'Tell me, Ariana. Tell me what it is that makes you cry.' I wanted to, but I wouldn't because pushing her that way could destroy the tentative relationship that was growing up between us.
'You're going undercover today?' Melodie clasped her hands as if in prayer. 'College types are real smart, Kylie.'
'You mean they'll see through me?'
Melodie considered this for a moment. 'You're not born to act, like me. Larry, my agent, says it's in the blood.'
'Acting is genetic?'
'Well, there's natural talent, of course. Fortunately I have that in spades. But it's not enough. Talent has to be honed, techniques perfected. Dance classes, speech classes, movement classes…' She shook her head.' 'Fraid you're behind the eight ball, Kylie, before you even start.'
'Hardly seems worthwhile to even try,' I said, shaking my head in turn.
Melodie patted my arm consolingly. 'It's real lucky you're an Aussie,' she said. 'Like, you're foreign, and you talk funny.'
'That's exactly what Snap-on Ashlee said to me last night.'
'Ashlee was at the
'She was. Accosted Chantelle and me on the red carpet.'
A scowl darkened Melodie's face. 'Ashlee swore to me she couldn't get passes. She lied. And she knew how much I wanted to go.'
Wondering how Ashlee would have access to these prized tickets to premieres, I asked where she worked.
'She's a receptionist at Crucial Casting, Incorporated,' said Melodie moodily. 'Ashlee knows I'm a major fan of Sigfried Smithey's. She could have helped a sister receptionist out-but no!' Melodie sagged against the kitchen counter. 'Why? I ask myself, why?'
'Bad apple,' I said, adding with a grin, 'Probably rotten to the core.'
'Damn,' Melodie said, suddenly invigorated. 'I'd do anything to stop her hearing about the auditions for Quip's play.' She stamped her foot in vexation. 'It's too late to put a gag order out.'
'The receptionist network can censor information?'
Melodie tsk-tsked. 'It's not censorship. That would be un-American. It's more a selective hush-up.'
'What does it matter if Ashlee hears about the auditions anyway?' I inquired.
'She thinks she can act,' said Melodie with deep derision. 'Act! Even you'd be better than Ashlee.'
'Thank you, Melodie.'
Melodie ignored my sarcastic tone. 'It may not be too late after all,' she said thoughtfully. 'A careless-with- the-truth strategy might still work.'
'Receptionists lie?'
'Oh, please,' said Melodie. 'It's a basic requirement. You don't think it's always a good morning or a good afternoon, do you? And when we say someone's in a meeting, do you really believe that's always true?'
While I was digesting this, Melodie caught sight of Jules, who was washing her whiskers. Fastidious things, cats. Melodie put both her hands to her head in a dramatic gesture. 'I feel a psychic moment coming on.'
Jules halted the whisker cleaning to look at her with a quizzical expression. 'Julia Roberts!' Melodie exclaimed. 'I sense Lonnie's door is open. Why don't you mosey down the hall and make yourself comfortable in his chair? He'll really appreciate it.' 'You opened Lonnie's door?' Melodie smiled meltingly.
'Could you doubt it?'
'You're dinky-di evil,' I said.
I'd sussed out exactly where the biology department was on my first visit to UCLA, so I didn't have to wander around looking lost but could make a beeline straight to the building. The interior was what I mentally labeled 'institution decor.' The long corridors were lined with anonymous doors, each with a glass panel of frosted glass. The flooring was that grayish composite stuff everyone knows has been selected because it doesn't show the dirt that much and is easy to clean.
Every now and then there was a notice board on the wall. I stopped at one to read instructions for actions to take in the event of a major earthquake. Thoroughly unsettled by this information, I made for Dr. Rubin Wasinsky's office.
I don't mind admitting my nerves were snapping like old rubber bands, but Rube smoothed the way. He
