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"Sounds good to me, boss," Tony said.
When Michael looked up at Tony, Maggie thought he looked annoyed. She wasn't sure why. After all,
it was her cat suit, not his.
"We've got a cat costume in the back," Tony pointed toward the wardrobe area. "It's in with the other
costumes, near the witch's hat." His eyebrows went up and he stared Michael in the eye. "Right near the
witch's hat," he repeated.
Maggie thought she heard something odd in his voice but couldn't imagine the cause.
"We can get a few pictures now," Tony went on, "and then Maggie can use whatever costume she
wants come Halloween."
A broad grin split Michael's face. "Now, Tony, that's a fine plan. A cat it is, then."
"So, are we all finished here?" Hoop asked from the back of the room. "It's pushing midnight."
"He turns into a pumpkin," Deena said, a grin tugging at her mouth.
Hoop yawned. "I turn into a grump."
"Well, we can't have that," she said.
Maggie watched, delighted with their banter. Near the console, Michael gestured to her.
"Give me a few minutes with Maggie, then you two can take her away."
She hopped off the stool and started to follow him toward the wardrobe room.
Tony waved Michael over as they passed. "Hold up for one second, okay? I need to run something by
you."
Michael nodded, and as he and Tony huddled near the console, twisting knobs and pushing buttons,
Deena scrambled over to Maggie. "I really need to talk to you," she said, her voice a loud whisper.
From behind her, Hoop yawned again, exaggerated and loud. "So talk in the car."
Deena frowned, then glanced from Maggie to Hoop. "I wasn't talking to you. And it's . . . girl talk."
She looked back at Maggie and quirked an eyebrow. "From one sex kitten to another."
Maggie gaped at Deena.
"Great. That means you want to talk about us menfolk."
Maggie glanced at Hoop. Maybe he was right. Maybe Deena did just want to trade flirting tips.
Or maybe Deena had figured it out. She licked her lips, wondering if that would be very good, or very
bad.
Hoop crossed the studio, climbed onto the squatty stage, and flopped down on the uncomfortable
couch that Michael had explained was designed to look nice for the camera, not feel nice to your body.
"I'll be right here."
Maggie frowned, trying to figure out how to ask Deena what she knew without seeming like she was
confused, concerned ... or anything.
"Not that anyone's paying any attention to me, but since I'm driving, I thought you guys might want to
know where I'll be." Hoop gestured to the stage, sweeping his arm to encompass the couch he was now
spread across. "Here. Right here."
"We got it, Hoop," Deena said. She caught Maggie's eye. "Men. You see what we're up against."
Maggie took a deep breath, nodding. This was just going to be talk about men. That was all. Deena
was just kidding around and Maggie had overreacted. It was silly, really.
"So, can we talk?" Deena asked.
Suddenly, at the console, Michael clapped his hands. "Okay, my dear. I'm ready. Let's go check out
wardrobe."
Deena frowned, then mouthed "We'll talk soon," before settling on the edge of the stage, her fingers
drumming a rhythm on her knee.
Maggie followed Michael back into the wardrobe area, filled mostly with racks of tailored suits in loud
colors that Ferrington had told her "play well to the camera." She followed him through an open doorway
and past a mirror lit with over a dozen bare light bulbs, finally ending up at the far side of the dressing
room. A black cat costume hung from a hook on the wall, right next to a pointy witch's hat and a thick
black cape.
Maggie stepped up to the costume and ran a hand over the mottled fake fur. She wrinkled her nose.
"Do you want me to put this on?" She hoped not. The suit was thick and cumbersome, with a plastic
mask built in that more or less resembled a big, fat alley cat with an attitude. "It's not very .. . well, sexy."
Nicholas certainly wasn't going to give her a second look if she paraded around in that horrible thing.
Besides, Hoop was right. She had a perfectly good cat suit at home. All she needed was a tail and some
ears and some fake whiskers. And she'd trade money that Deena could take care of those details for her.
Michael took a step back, looking at the costume. Then he moved forward and leaned against the
wall, his hand resting above the suit but under a framed photograph that hung between the costume hook
and a shelf.
"Hmmm. No, I suppose it's not very sexy at all." His eyes grazed over her body. "And you certainly
can pull off sexy. Would be a shame to waste that." His fingers slid down to the hook with the witch
costume, skimming the photograph and sending it swinging back and forth against the wall. "How about a
femme-fatale witch?"
Maggie shook her head, her eyes drawn to the now crooked photo. "No, thank you. I think I'd like to
be a cat."
He pulled at his chin. "Well, it is a cat story you're telling." Reaching up, he straightened the framed
photo.
Something about it looked familiar. She leaned forward, pushing up on her tiptoes, peering at the face
in the photo. Then she turned to Michael. "That's you."
Looking a bit like a little boy, he bounced his head from side to side, then looked down at the floor
and scuffed his foot along the well-worn vinyl. "Yeah, it is. I'm surprised you recognized me."
Frowning, she leaned back onto her heels. "Why wouldn't I recognize you, Michael? It looks exactly
like you. Except that you're wearing a dress." She glanced again at the frilly white dress with the poofed
out skirt he wore, along with the matching white cap topped with flowers. "I don't like dresses at all." She
cocked her head, contemplating him. From what she'd learned in the past few days watching television,
she knew that, for the most part, Michael's wardrobe in the photograph would be considered odd. Since
she didn't like dresses at all, she could certainly understand why most men wouldn't like them either.
He swung an arm around her shoulder. "This is the thing, Maggie. The dresses are my . . . well, they're
my little secret. Can you understand that?"
She nodded. She knew all about secrets.
"I'd completely forgot that picture was hanging back here, or I wouldn't have brought you into the
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