by Mac Flynn
"Absolutely. I just need you to fill out some forms and pay the fifty dollar fee."
I ribbed John and grinned. "Ready to be the proud parent of a spitfire?"
John glanced at the fur and fangs in the cage. The cat purred as it tore his dignity and his coat to pieces. "Is there insurance against pets?" he asked us.
"Only if you could prove their homicidal, now let's break this sweety out of here," I insisted. The cat yowled and rubbed her face into the shredded remains of his overcoat. After an hour of filling out paperwork we had all the legal right to take the calico, but not the ability. We didn't have a carrier, food, or litter. "Ready to shop for a cat?" I asked John.
"Isn't that what I just did?" he teased.
"Very funny." I turned to the woman who had tutored us through the adoption process. "Is it all right if we come back in an hour and take the cat then?"
"Certainly. I'll have Sassafras ready for you when you get back."
"Sassafras?" I repeated.
"That's the cat's name. I call her Sassy for short."
I turned to John with a mischievous smile on my face. "Sounds like the perfect cat for you."
"I'd say the cat suits you better," he countered.
I laughed and pushed him toward the door. "We'll be back," I promised the woman. I guided John outside and took in the fresh air of the dirty city, then wheezed and coughed it out. I was growing soft out there in the country with all that clean air and sunlight. "Let's get shopping." An hour later found John's wallet lighter, my car heavier and us back at the shelter.
The woman smiled at us when we entered, though I noticed her arms had scratches on them. "I'm afraid I couldn't get Sassy out of her cage, but with your help we might be able to pull her into your carrier."
I pointed at her war wounds. "Are those from Sassy?" I asked her.
"I'm afraid so."
John shot a glare at me, and I shrugged. "She has a lot of spirit," I defended our new feline friend.
"And blood thirst," he added.
We took the carrier in hand and walked back to her cage. Sassy sat on her blanket cleaning herself and acting innocent. She meowed when we came up to the bars, and her tail twitched like a rattler about to strike. I stepped back and gestured to the cage. "All right, Mr. Cat Owner, get your kitty."
He looked at me like I was nuts, which wasn't a far from the truth. "I need leather gloves," he protested.
I scowled. "No, you don't, now open the cage and get your kitty."
John sighed, opened the cage and reached in. Sassy stood, brushed her body against his hand and meowed. It was all so adorable until she latched onto him and started kicking with her back feet. "Get it off! Get it off!" John screamed. I reached in, grabbed the scruff of the cat's neck and pulled her off him. Then I shoved the maniacal beast into the cage and shut the door. Sassy reverted back to Jekyll and playfully rolled around on the floor of the cage where we'd placed a new blanket. John glared at me while he held his bleeding arm that now resembled that of the shelter volunteer. "Spirit, huh?" he quipped.
I shrugged and sheepishly smiled. "And a lot of kick," I added. We took Sassy out, and I swear there was a look of relief on the shelter volunteer's face when we drove off. In the back seat was the new inmate. Sassy appeared calm, but every now and then she'd grab hold of the blanket and try to tear it to shreds. "Maybe this idea of yours getting a cat wasn't such a good idea."
He glanced at me and one of his eyes twitched. "My idea?" he repeated.
"Well, I might have helped with the idea." He continued to stare at me, and I squirmed in my seat. "You know, that's really distracting when I'm driving," I told him.
"You're a very frustrating women, Trixie Calhoun."
I snorted. "Aren't we all? And you know, that's the first time you used my full name, or maybe even my first name. Am I no longer an angel?"
The cage in the rear seat rocked and clattered about. "No angel would set me up with a beast from hell. I think you're now a vixen."
I raised an eyebrow and smirked. "That sounds more like me, but I think you've got it wrong with the cat. I'm sure you two will get along just fine."
That wasn't quite what happened when we returned to John's house with the newest addition to his household. We hefted all the cat supplies inside, and then set the cage in the hallway and made sure all the doors and windows were closed. We didn't want the creature to escape into the wild, and cause terror and mayhem in the corn fields. We stood over the deceptively quiet cage and glanced between that and each other.
"Just think of how fewer mice you'll have around the house," I pointed out.
"I have traps that do that work," John replied.
"Just think of the company you'll have."
"I would rather have you."
"You're being difficult."
"So are you."
"Everybody loves cats."
"No, they don't."
"She'll make a great guard."
"How?"
"Well, if she doesn't like you then she won't like anybody, and attack them."
"Shouldn't I be hoping she is fond of me?" he countered.
"True, and I'm sure you'll be great together. You just need to bond."
"It probably has intentions of bonding with my skin."
"The cat's name isn't It, it's Sassy."
"It should be Spawn of the Hairballs."
I snorted and knelt down. "All right, enough banter. Let's get this cage open and introduce Sassy to her new home." I opened the cage door and released the wild creature. Said wild creature sauntered out, sniffed the air and her fluffy tail whipped up so fast a cloud of hair flung into my face. Sassy took off into the dining room and I saw her dash around the corner into the kitchen. We heard cabinet doors, and pots and pans rattle and crash to the floor.
John whipped his head to me and that eye twitched again. "What now?" he asked me.
"Now we recapture the beast and stick her in a room," I replied as I scurried after the wild beast. John ran after me and we reached the kitchen entrance at the same time. The room was a mess with open cabinet doors and pans and silverware strewn about the floor. The wild beast sat in a corner and batted at something captured in its paws. I saw the toy bounce up and realized it was a mouse.
"No mice, huh?" I asked John.
"Not anymore," he pointed out.
"Uh-huh. I'll take the toy and you can carry Sassy upstairs to one of the extra bedrooms."
"Why am I tasked with the beast from hell?"
"Bonding, remember?"
He rubbed his arms. "All too well."
I walked behind him and pushed on his back to get him moving. "Come on. Just grab the cat and take her upstairs."
That was easier said than done. Sassy didn't want to be separated from her new, and very much deceased, friend, so when John grabbed her she showed her displeasure by attaching herself to his arm. He was a trooper with the pain. Well, after the initial scream. "Grab her by the neck," I advised from the safe distance of the kitchen doorway.
John grasped the ruff along her neck and, like a kitten, she stiffened, but still scowled at him. He turned to me with an equally chilling scowl. "Why didn't you tell me that sooner?"
I shrugged and sheepishly smiled. "I forgot?"
John rolled his eyes and hurried past me with his furry load. I was left with the remains of the toy, which I disposed of in a small plot of bare earth in the backyard. I had a sense of foreboding that the plot of earth would soon be a mass grave. At that moment I heard a yell and a door slam, and hurried back into the house and upstairs. I found one of the bedroom doors closed, and there was a lot of yelling and growling on the other side. The funny thing was the growling sounded human, and the yelling like it came from a cat.
I hesitantly knocked on the door. "You two okay in there?"
"Sort of," John called back. "I can't get out without the cat racing past me. Any bright ideas to get out of here?"
"The window?" I suggested through
the door. I swear I heard teeth grind together. "But while you're bonding with your new kitty, I need to get home and unpack my stuff. That place is probably still a mess from Tanner's interior decorating."
"You're leaving me alone with this thing?" John yelped.
I stifled the laugh building up in my throat. The powerful and business savvy John Benson was cornered by a cat. "I'm sure you two will work something out, and I'll check on you tomorrow."
I raced out of there, but heard enough to know John wasn't thrilled with my leaving. He'd thank me later, or become a homicidal maniac intent on seeking revenge. Maybe I'd call before I visited tomorrow.
CHAPTER 3
Turns out I didn't get a break, either. I climbed the stairs to my floor with an armful of my stuff and noticed several of my neighbors huddled together near my door. They were only acquaintances, so I was confused when one of them saw me down the hall and pointed at me. "Why don't we ask her?" he suggested.
All their heads popped up and wide grins slid onto their dirty faces. This wasn't the cleanest apartment building, so it didn't attract the cleanest tenants. They rushed me like a defensive line intent on getting the football from the quarterback, and I was the quarterback The mob surrounded me on all sides and pressed against my body. I could barely breathe through the stench of their unwashed clothes and bodies. It was like they didn't know we had a laundromat in the basement.
"Is it true?" one of the women asked me.
"Is what true?" I returned in bewilderment.
"About you and that rich guy," one of the men insisted.
"What rich guy?"
"The one you're dating," another woman persisted.
Now this was starting to sound familiar, and bad. "What? What the hell are you talking about?"
One of the defensive line plastered a magazine against my face, and I found myself face-to-face with my face on the front cover. "What do ya say to that?" she wondered.
"I'd say I can't read anything," I mumbled through the paper.
"Oh, sorry," she sheepishly replied. She kindly pulled it away and I glanced over the headline. In red, exciting, gaudy letters I read the line Reclusive Rich Woos Mystery Girl!
"Is this some sort of a joke?" I asked them.
"That's what we'd like to know," the first man who'd spoken countered. "You going out with some rich guy because none of us aren't good enough?" I first had to wrap my head around his double negative sentence, and then I looked around at their faces. They were both curious and a little hostile, like a group of rabid fans who wouldn't take no for an answer.
I was saved from my adoring fans by a firm, strong voice down the hall. "I think she's just trying to get to her apartment." Everyone turned their heads and saw a man standing by the apartment door beside mine. He had short blond hair, was about John's height, and had on a jacket. He shut his door and walked over to us. "I'm not even sure how she's breathing."
"Who are you?" one of the men demanded to know.
"A new neighbor. The name's Andy Parker." He held out his hand for a shake, and the older tenant looked at it like it was an alien custom. That, or the older man was afraid of the cleanliness on Andy's hands. Andy shrugged and grinned. "But anyway, I think the young lady wants to get to her apartment, so if you wouldn't mind-" He gently pushed his way through, boldly wrapped an arm around my waist, and hauled me out of there. "Get out your apartment keys," he whispered to me.
I could see what he meant. The mob wasn't too happy with their unanswered questions, and followed us. I pulled my keys out of my pocket, unlocked the door, and we hurried inside. Andy shut the door behind us and grinned at me. "That was a close call."
"I'll say." I gladly set my junk down on the floor and glanced around. The place was still a mess, made all the worse from the countless police footprints on the floor. "They've never acted like that before."
"Magazines have a powerful effect on people," he pointed out.
"And weird effect, but you seem to be unscathed by the power of print," I mused as I turned to him.
He shrugged. "I guess I've read enough of them at the checkout line to be immune to the effects. Anyway, I thought I'd be a good neighbor and save you from their questions."
"When did the old neighbors move out?" Not that I was going to miss them. They were a loud couple who would get into heated arguments over salad dressings.
"Right before I moved in," he quipped.
"And what is a hand-shaking boy like you doing in this dump?" I wondered.
"Oh, just taking in the sights-"
"-and smells-"
"-of this wonderful apartment building."
"So you have a death wish?" I guessed.
He laughed and shook his head. "No, but I do have a wish to know you better."
I frowned. "Because I know a rich guy?"
"Because a rich guy wants to know you. You must have some great ability to attract money and I was hoping some of that would rub off on me."
I wasn't sure whether to applaud his capitalist spirit or boot him out for the gleaming gold look in his eyes. "So you're a gold digger?"
"You ask a lot of questions. What if I'm just an average Joe wanting to help you?" he scolded.
"I'd say your mission is accomplished. You saved me from the curious mob and-"
"And you're going to need more protection," he interrupted.
I raised an eyebrow. "Why do you say that?"
He pulled out a few magazines from inside his coat and held them out. "Because of these."
"I thought you weren't into magazines?" I reminded him.
Andy shrugged and sheepishly grinned. "I kind of swiped them off some of your admirers."
I took them and perused the covers. My eyes widened when I saw my face plastered over the covers with text that promised riveting details inside. I glanced through the articles and my mouth dropped open. "I've never worked at a glue factory!" I flipped through more stories, and my horror increased. "We didn't meet at a concert!" Another flipping revealed more in-depth lies than I wanted anybody to know. "I can not to all those positions!" I grasped the magazines in both hands, and squeezed and twisted them. "This is a bunch of lies!"
"I'm afraid a lot of people are going to take them without that grain of salt," Andy pointed out.
"This-this is awful!" I paced the room and tripped over the junk. "I have to-" I paused and glanced over my shoulder at Andy. "Do you mind? I need to be alone to plan my next move."
Andy chuckled and backed up to the door. "No problem, but if you ever need an ear I've got two to spare."
"I'll remember that."
He reached the door, peeked out to see if the coast was clear, and gave a wave. "Well, be seeing you around."
"Bye," I replied. He closed the door behind himself and I had hardly resumed my twitchy pacing when the entrance opened and Andy peeked his head in.
"But what if I don't see you again?" he countered. "I'd hate to see you handle this all by yourself."
I stomped over to the door and shoved my smiling face into his. "We'll always have the hallway." Then I slammed it shut, and he was quick enough to pull his head back before I gave him a cut above the shoulders.
"Knock on the walls if you ever need me," he called through the door.
"I will." Hell, I could tap on these thin walls and he'd hear me. I turned, lay my back against the door and sighed. I glanced down at the crinkled magazines and frowned at my smiling face. This called for action, specifically running to my, as the magazines put it, boy toy, and asking him what the hell was going on.
Tomorrow was Sunday so no classes to get in the way of my mission. I put most of my apartment back together and headed out to John's house. Someone beat me to it because there was a familiar black car parked in the driveway. Uncle Cecil was here. I let myself in and heard voices in the living room off to my right, and found Cecil and John seated around the coffee table. There was a stack of newspapers and magazines on the table between them, and John angrily gestured t
o them. I could see our faces on the gossip pages.
"Isn't there something you can do about this?" he asked his uncle.
Cecil raised a brow. "What do you propose? That we muzzle the entire newspaper and gossip industry?"
John stood and threw up his arms. "I don't know, just anything to keep Angel from finding out."
"Too late," I piped up. I walked into the room and nodded at the stacks. "Some of my neighbors were nice enough to jump me last night and tell me the good news."
John walked over to me and set his hands on my shoulders. "We'll deal with this somehow," he insisted. He turned to his uncle and the frown deepened. "How did they learn about this?" John grumpily asked his uncle.
Cecil shrugged. "Perhaps from our old friend Monroe, or perhaps someone else on the board. Miss Calhoun was present during that intense board meeting, and perhaps several of the members assumed she was more than your secretary."
I was suddenly reminded of something furry and missing, and glanced around the room. "Where's Sassy?" I asked John. At that moment I heard a distinct yowl from upstairs, and frowned at him. "Is she still trapped in the bedroom?"
John's face drooped. "What else was I to do? The beast refuses to listen to my commands."
"That's because she's a cat. She'll listen to your commands only if you promise her food."
John cringed. "Food. . ."
A look of horror crossed over my face. "Yeah, food. You know, that life-sustaining necessity. You have fed her today, haven't you?" There was an awkward silence between us, interrupted only by a cough from Cecil.
Cecil stood and glanced between us with a barely-restrained smile. "If you'll excuse me, I believe my work here is done. I'm no use taming lions." He hurried out of the room, leaving the newspapers and magazines for our enjoyment.
I nodded my head at where he'd left. "Does he even know what we were talking about?" I asked John.
John nodded. "I told him about you bringing a cat here."
"Me bringing a cat here? I distinctly recall you being my copilot."
"I was an unwilling accomplice, and I demand you deal with the monster you've loosed upon my house."
"I'm not an exterminator, though Sassy seems up for the job," I pointed out. "Besides, how bad has she been?" John scowled and pulled up one of his sleeves. There were some nice scratches on top of the ones he'd gotten at the shelter. "Maybe the scars will protect you from the sunlight?" I suggested. He looked at me with a long, disbelievingly face, and I sighed. "All right, I'll help you bond with the cat."