Like Cats and Dogs

by Kate McMurray

  “I know exactly what you mean.” Lauren felt a pang of sadness, too. Callie was a brown-and-black striped tabby and Steve was a black tuxedo cat, and the two of them had been nearly inseparable since they’d moved in, so it was good they were adopted together. But Lauren would miss them both, just as she missed all the cats who came through the café. She felt a pang at knowing she probably would never see those cats again.

  As if sensing she needed a cat, Sadie wandered over and headbutted Lauren’s shin. Lauren bent down to pet her. “You’re stuck with me forever, kitty,” Lauren told Sadie.

  Sadie chirped happily in response.

  Once Monique was set, Lauren walked over to the bar. Lindsay stood there flirting with the bartender. Lauren managed to say hello to Lindsay and order a gin and tonic in the same breath.

  Lindsay sipped a cocktail and grinned at Lauren.

  “I thought you couldn’t make it,” said Lauren.

  “I tried to make an excuse to be here in my professional capacity. These are great cocktails. See?”

  “Great cocktails? From our rented bartender, with the middle-shelf liquor from the store up the block.”

  Lindsay brought the cup to her lips and gave Lauren a thumbs-up. Then she said, “I’m not missing a lot tonight. Did you see that new streaming show, Baking Bread?”

  “No. When do I have time to watch television?”

  “Fair. But it’s really soothing. It’s basically just this silver fox baker who shows you how to make a different kind of bread each episode. I could watch him knead bread all day. He has amazing hands.”

  Lauren laughed. “Sure.”

  “Anyway, the guy from that show, Jack Brentwood, is from Brooklyn and just opened a new bakery on Court Street, so I was supposed to go check it out tonight, but I postponed.”

  “Really? Why? That seems more interesting than a party for cats. Not that I don’t think a party for cats is the best thing ever, just, you know.”

  “I do know, but Jack Brentwood reminds me too much of a certain pastry chef ex. I was all set to go over there and tell him what other things he could knead, but then I wondered if Brad might show up, which is silly because why would he even? Brad’s probably got his own bakery in some posh Manhattan neighborhood now. Still, I called Jack Brentwood to reschedule so I could come here tonight and get drunk with my friends.” Lindsay lifted her glass to toast Lauren.

  Lauren signaled to the bartender that she could use a refill. She forgot how over-the-top Lindsay could be about her ex-boyfriend. She basically walked around with an annotated map of New York City that told her which blocks to avoid to ensure she never randomly ran into Brad. Lauren had tried to tell her a few times that, in a city of eight and a half million people, the odds of running into anyone were pretty slim.

  Except on the F train. Lauren always ran into people she didn’t want to see on the F train. It was clearly cursed. She’d seen Brad on the F a couple of months before, in fact, but had hidden her face behind a book and neglected to mention it to Lindsay.

  Lindsay said, “Enough about Brad. I take it from the cutesy matching T-shirts that a number of vets from the Whitman Street clinic are here. Is one of them your vet?”

  “He’s not my anything, but Caleb is the tall guy awkwardly talking to Evan.”

  Lindsay looked and whistled. “Well, he looks like a tasty dish. And you decided not to sleep with him again because…”

  “We hate each other’s guts.”

  “I’d be willing to overlook that to get him between the sheets. I won’t, of course, because of the sisterhood.” She patted Lauren’s shoulder. “But I’m just saying.”

  Lauren was tempted to say something glib like, “You can have him,” but the truth was she didn’t want anyone else to have him. Maybe they weren’t destined for a great romance, but as long as they had…whatever they had, she wanted Caleb to herself.

  “This is quite a crush,” said Lindsay, surveying the room.

  “I hope people actually adopt cats or donate to a shelter and aren’t just here for the free booze.”

  “They will. Who could resist these little guys?” Lindsay bent down to pet Patches, a marmalade-colored cat.

  “You want one?”

  “I already have two, thanks to you.”

  Lauren sighed. “Well, anyway. I better mingle more. Thank you for coming, though.”

  “Sure. Let me know if you need anything.”

  “Say nice things to the guests about how great it is to have cats.”

  Just then, Lauren spotted the comedy duo of Randolph and Newton in the crowd. Both had on business suits. What the hell were they doing here?

  Lauren approached them. Newton held up his hands as if he were afraid to touch anything.

  “Alcohol and cats,” said Newton.

  “It’s a private event,” Lauren said. “The rules are different. Nice to see you gentlemen. What brings you here? Interested in adopting a cat?” There. Kill ’em with kindness, she figured.

  “Ah, no,” said Randolph. “Just being friendly neighbors.”

  “This is a private event, but it’s open to the public,” said Newton.

  “It’s all on the up-and-up. We consulted our lawyer before putting this on, and he says it’s fine. Also, you may recall, the state of New York changed the law last year. This is all kosher as long as the animals are not allowed in the space where food is prepared. Given that everything was donated from elsewhere, there’s no issue. If you’re not comfortable eating with the cats, there are a couple of tables near the counter, away from the cat area.” Lauren kept her tone light and friendly.

  “I’d really prefer that,” said Newton. He snagged a mini-quiche from a nearby tray and then left the cat area.

  “He’s a bit of a germophobe,” said Randolph. “So you’re in charge of all this?”

  “I’m the manager of the café, yes. But my event planner Paige did most of the work for this particular event. We have these adoption parties quarterly to make room for new cats.”

  “Interesting. Very interesting business you have here. Seems a little flash in the pan, though, no?”

  “We’ve been open for more than a year. Business is up lately. That seems like more than a flash. There’s a cat café in Chinatown in Manhattan, in fact, that has been around for six years.”

  Lauren was curious about why this guy was here, and it made her nervous. She couldn’t help but think they were here to calculate how long it would be until they went out of business. If the Cat Café went under on its own, it saved Randolph the hassle of evicting them if he bought the building…hypothetically. Or replacing the café with something more lucrative, like a bank or a cell phone store. Since technically Diane owned the Cat Café, the café closing would put her at the sort of financial disadvantage that might make her more inclined to sell as well. Lauren reasoned there were a lot of possibilities here, and many of them involved shutting down the Cat Café if Randolph had his way.

  She looked around. Diane chatted with what looked like a middle-aged gay male couple—they were similarly groomed and also holding hands—and she wore a purple dress that was a little too formal for the occasion. She held a travel coffee cup with kittens on it in her hand, rather than drinking out of a glass from the bar. It was all very Diane.

  Lauren wanted to get out of this conversation but didn’t want to ruin Diane’s evening by inflicting these guys on her. So Lauren said, “If you’re not interested in adopting a cat, we are also taking donations for no-kill shelters in Brooklyn to help them cover their expenses. You can see Monique at the door if you’re interested in donating.”

  “I’ll take that under advisement.”

  Randolph continued to stand there, looking at her in a way that made her uncomfortable, like he was trying to wear her down. To what end, she didn’t know; it wasn’t like she owned this prop
erty.

  Then Randolph said, “Do you get much business from the tenants in the apartments upstairs?”

  Oh, this was bad. If he was inquiring about the tenants upstairs, he was likely wondering if he could evict them, too. Not wanting to admit she was one of those tenants, Lauren said, “Some. A lot of people who live between Henry Street and the subway station at the end of the block stop in here for coffee on their way to work. Some of them stop and pet the cats, but a lot of them just get their morning cup o’ joe and a pastry.” Lauren was thinking about starting a loyalty program with little cards, a “buy ten, get one free” sort of thing for the morning crowd, hoping to keep her customers loyal when a new coffee shop inevitably opened nearby. “Any ideas with what you will do with the old Star Café space now that you own it?”

  “Not yet,” said Randolph.

  When no more information seemed to be forthcoming, Lauren said, “Well, it was nice chatting with you. I better mingle and make sure my staff is doing okay. Please help yourself to anything on offer and remember to talk to Monique about donations on your way out!”

  Lauren slid away before Randolph could rope her into further conversation. He seemed to take the hint and went to the bar. His presence here was deeply unsettling, but Lauren didn’t want to let that hamper her enjoyment of the evening. Instead, she sought out Paige, who stood on the corner surveying her kingdom.

  “Successful evening,” Lauren said.

  “Much bigger crowd than I was expecting!”

  “It’s good, though. Maybe people will be charmed and continue coming back to the café.”

  “Was that the real estate developer you were just talking to?”

  “Yeah. I don’t know why he’s here. I wouldn’t worry too much. Diane said she wasn’t selling. End of story, as far as I’m concerned. He can keep trying, but as long as Diane digs in her heels regarding selling, we’re fine.”

  Paige smiled. “Good, good. In the meantime, let’s get some more cats into good homes!”

  ***

  The odd thing about talking to Evan was that Caleb got the impression Evan was rooting for him.

  Well, that, and when they first shook hands, Caleb felt a spike of jealousy. It was unfounded—a few minutes of speaking with Evan revealed he was gay—but that it had happened at all was an unpleasant surprise. Caleb had no claim on Lauren. They weren’t seeing each other exclusively. They weren’t even in a relationship. Hell, they weren’t even friends. They were two people who verbally sparred sometimes and then had sex.

  He moved about the party. All of the vets had to wear official blue Whitman Street Veterinary Clinic T-shirts so they would be easily identifiable to the party guests, which meant he fielded some questions from potential cat parents. He knew most of the cats at the café were rescues who came from shelters, so he also assumed the cats had been screened for devastating diseases like feline leukemia and the feline version of HIV. Maybe the years of treating sick cats had made him too pessimistic, but all these people drinking and thinking taking home a cat was a good idea made him a little wary.

  Which was why he inserted himself into a conversation with a woman who was telling a prospective cat adopter that she didn’t take her cat to the vet regularly because the cat stayed inside all the time and didn’t need shots.

  “You really should, just in case,” Caleb said to the woman.

  “Well, sure,” she said, glancing at his shirt. “You want us to pay you hundreds of dollars every year.”

  “No, I want to prevent the spread of feline diseases should your cat escape your apartment or otherwise be exposed to other cats.”

  “He would never escape.”

  “I passed four different missing cat posters on the way to work just this morning. You never know.”

  The woman just scoffed at him.

  So he wasn’t feeling very sociable when he finally ran into Lauren again. She looked to be a couple of cocktails into her evening, but she greeted him pleasantly enough.

  “All right, cat lady. Do you screen or do a background check on any of the people who adopt cats?” he asked.

  “We make them answer a series of questions to make sure they’re ready to take in a cat. The cats who live in the café have already been spayed or neutered and their shots are up to date, so that’s already taken care of. We get everyone’s contact information, and Paige calls them to follow-up in a few weeks. That’s really all we can do.”

  Lauren’s tone struck Caleb as blasé. “That’s all you can do.”

  “It’s not like we’re giving out state secrets here. And you guys at the clinic don’t do any more than that when you allow pets to be adopted.”

  “No, but most of the adoptions are to people who are already clients.”

  “Sometimes, my cold-blooded friend, you have to trust your fellow human beings to be good people. What’s the alternative? A lot of these cats would die on the streets or in kill shelters otherwise. At least this way, we give them a chance at a good home.”

  “It’s not that I don’t trust people…”

  Lauren leveled her gaze at him, as if to say, “Oh, please.”

  “I’m only worried about the welfare of the animals.”

  “Sure, you are.”

  The mocking note in her tone felt like she was goading him. On purpose? He couldn’t tell.

  He rolled with it. “I’m just saying, letting any rando off the street adopt a cat could lead to these cats being mistreated, and that’s not what you want.”

  “Of course not. We do screen people. Are you accusing me of something?”

  “No. I would never accuse you of anything.”

  She scoffed. “Oh, really?”

  “Have I ever?”

  “You’ve called me flighty on a few occasions. And you, buddy, are stubborn and untrusting.”

  Their raised voices were starting to attract attention around them.

  “You’re too trusting. You live in some strange fantasy land of cats and unicorns where everything is perfect, and it’s ridiculous. People aren’t nice. That’s not how the world works.”

  “That’s not fair. I’m doing good work here. If you can’t see that—”

  “Oh, I can see it. But be realistic. And lower your voice—people are staring at us.”

  “Fine,” she whisper-shouted. “Are you really mad at me or are you making an argument to make an argument?”

  “Some of both.”

  “You asshole. I can’t believe you would pick a fight with me at an event I put on, in my place of business.”

  “You pick fights with me at my place of business all the time. You did just a few days ago, in fact.”

  “You are such a jerk. Why do I keep thinking we can even be civil?”

  “Because you are foolish and idealistic?”

  Lauren let out a frustrated grunt. “And you’re an arrogant prick. God, you piss me off.” Then she turned on her heel and marched into the back room.

  Caleb looked around. Some of Lauren’s friends—people he recognized but couldn’t name, not really disproving her point—looked at him expectantly.

  “Fine, I went too far,” he told his audience. “I’ll go apologize.”

  He made a big show of looking put out about it, and then jogged after Lauren. He walked through a series of open doors and found her in a big walk-in closet that seemed to be used mostly to store extra cat food and litter.

  “Shut the door,” Lauren said breathlessly.

  Caleb did as he was told.

  “Are you as turned on as I am?” Lauren asked.

  “It was about to get embarrassing for me out there.”

  Lauren reached forward and grabbed his crotch, the palm of her hand against his very hard cock. “I think we have, like, ten minutes before people start to notice I’m missing.”

 
“I’m supposed to be apologizing. I’m sorry if I went too far there.”

  She worked at the fly of his pants. “Shut up and fuck me. We can talk about it later.”

  He grabbed the hem of Lauren’s skirt and shoved it up. He looked around. There was a narrow table that looked like it was about the right height. Would it support Lauren’s weight? Only one way to find out. Caleb lifted Lauren onto the table and slid off her panties. She opened her legs. He was already half-hanging out of his pants, so he fished out his cock and kissed her.

  “Do you have any—?” he asked.

  “No, but I am on the pill.”

  “I don’t have anything.”

  “I don’t either.”

  With that, he pushed inside her.

  It was fast and intense. Lauren threw one arm around Caleb’s shoulders and used the other to brace herself against the table or the wall or whatever would keep her from falling. Caleb drove forward, shocked by how good it felt to be inside her bare, amazed that she trusted him this much, lost in the feel of her body around him.

  It was over almost as fast as it started, with Lauren biting into his clothed shoulder to keep from crying out, and then Caleb shuddering and coming inside her.

  They stayed panting on the table for a moment, Lauren still clutching at him to keep from falling. With some reluctance, Caleb withdrew. As they each put themselves back to rights, Caleb said, “That just happened.”

  “I do trust you, you know. You’re always unfailingly honest.”

  “I trust you, too. At least as far as this goes.” He gestured between them.

  But the truth was, he did trust her. Maybe not with his heart, but he’d never known her to lie or be deceitful. Although now that he heard what he’d said in his own head, he worried he’d sounded condescending.

  Lauren said, “I’ve never done it in a closet before.”

  “Me neither, actually. And Lauren, I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s fine, don’t apologize. Do I look okay?”

  She looked gorgeous. A little disheveled. He reached over and smoothed down her hair. He tugged her shirt back into place. “Your lipstick is smudgy.”