by J. A. Howell
“Think the mother left him here. ‘Tis a wee one, despite his fatness.” Angus shrugged. No sooner had he said that, the kitten placed his little white mittens over my hand and nuzzled his face against my palm. That was the precise moment I realized I had just acquired my first pet.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Kitten
By the time I reached my apartment door, the chubby little orange tabby was purring up a storm inside my jacket. The day had grown dark and cold after I left The Crusty Biscuit so I put him inside my jacket to keep warm and to conceal him so I could buy him food without being scolded for bringing an animal into the grocery store. Either way, he didn’t seem to mind. He shifted around and curled into a ball as he purred happily and kneaded his little paws against my stomach.
His movements had not gone completely undetected however. I had drawn more than a few concerned looks when he started yowling as I walked past one restaurant where the smell of cooked fish was strong in the air. He grew more active at the prospect of such a delectable meal and started pouncing around within the leather confines of my jacket. He attempted to escape and wriggled up toward the top, which I promptly zipped up snugly to my neck. I was sure, to those I had passed; it was an odd sight to behold.
After I closed the door behind me and placed the bags on the table, I unzipped the jacket and gently placed the kitten on the floor. His nose sniffed the air with curiosity before he quickly darted across the room and leapt onto the sofa. He struggled to pull himself up the back of it to peer out the window but finally managed and precariously balanced himself at the top. While he surveyed the city from his perch, I thought to put some food down for him, but realized he was probably still quite full from his breakfast of haggis. Maybe in a little bit. I left him to explore the apartment while I started the tea kettle heating on the stove.
It was nice to have some company in the apartment, especially given the weird dreams that had been haunting me. I thought back to what Angus had told me and the memory of those dreams of Claire made me shudder. It didn’t make sense. My dream must have been some subconscious influence from something, or someone I had seen at some point in my life. Still, they felt like someone else’s memories altogether. The hair on my forearms stood on end at the thought.
I shook the notion from my mind once more, along with the things Aggie had told me. Ghosts weren’t real. People die. That’s it. They don’t hang around. They don’t haunt people. I had spent too much time around my mother and her friends during séances in their attempts to contact the dead. A candle would flicker and they would get all excited. I would roll my eyes and beg my mom to let me go back home so I could sleep. My pleas would only be met with several terse shushes and glares as she and her band of “witches” refocused their energy to garner another a response from whatever “spirit” was trying to make contact. They never seemed to be able to reach whoever was attempting to come through. Of course, they blamed that on my whining.
There are no ghosts here. No flickering candles or billowing curtains with the windows shut. Those are things you see in horror movies. Not in real life. I know that. Maybe my dreams were also the product of some lame ghost flick I had seen at some point. There were no other possible explanations to be had, and certainly none of the supernatural sort. I turned my attention back to the kitten, watching him pounce around on the back of the sofa, content with his new settings. I decided, so was I. Despite leaving everything I knew back in Louisiana, this was much better. Creepy apartment or not.
The tea kettle whistled behind me a few minutes later and I turned away from the kitten as he pounced down the couch and scampered across the room to continue exploring. After pouring myself a mug and tossing in a tea bag, I left the cup of tea to steep as I wandered toward the bedroom. It was still early afternoon, but I didn’t have plans to go anywhere for the evening. More painting was possibly in order.
As I slipped out of my work clothes and into something comfier, my mind wandered back to my conversation with Angus. Thoughts of Brody returned. What had he gone through that drove him to suicide? And naturally, with thoughts of Brody, I couldn’t help but think about Nolan. I was still pissed at him, but I could not imagine what he had gone through, losing his best friend and seeing him blamed for Claire’s murder. As far as I knew, Nolan didn’t have any siblings. No pictures indicated that and he certainly didn’t mention any. Brody must have been the only brother he’d known, related or not. At the very least, it explained why he wouldn’t want to talk about that picture.
A sudden crash from the other room startled me and I scrambled back into the living room, worried something had happened to the kitten. As I came out, I saw him on the kitchen counter. The mug, however, was not.
“You’re lucky you’re cute.” I smiled at the little guy as I walked over to him. He was facing away from me, sitting back on his haunches as he pawed at something that wasn’t there. Perhaps a tiny piece of lint in the air. Sure enough, as I rounded the counter, I found a nice pool of chamomile tea mixed with pieces of what used to be a mug. Looking back at the kitten, I shook my head as he finally turned his attention to me with a tiny “mew.”
“Wait. How did you get up there?” There were no chairs or barstools around the counter. Examining the height of the counters and the plumpness of the orange ball of fur sitting in front of me, the physics of it seemed impossible. As if to answer, he meowed once more then stepped toward me, careful to stay away from the edge. After I cleaned up the mess he made, I placed him back on the floor.
“You still need a name, buddy.” I told him before he trotted off and happily scampered around the apartment once more. While making myself another cup of tea, I decided to pick up one the romance novels I had started reading. I flipped back to the page I had dog-eared. Something was going on in a paddock and there was a lengthy description of the woman’s, Genevieve, pert nipples and Remy’s rippling abdomen showing beneath his billowing tunic as he ravaged her. I giggled as I took a sip of tea and forced myself onward into Genevieve and Remy’s literal roll in the hay. The book went on in a similar fashion for the most part, and in the end, of course they rode off into the sunset. Probably to find another paddock. The poor girl must have had rug burns down there by then. I let out another laugh at the thought and placed the book onto the coffee table.
As silly and as unrealistic as the book had been, I took a little enjoyment in it. It had been a long time since I had been able to enjoy anything of that nature. After what Jackson had done to me, I wasn’t even sure I could. No! I refused give him that much power over me. An involuntary shudder tickled my spine at the thought of him, leaving an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach to mix with the three cups of tea I had finished during my reading.
I had been doing so well locking the memories of that night away.
Remember who you belong to Harley. You’re mine. If you’re going to act like a little whore, that’s how I’m going to treat you!
You are nothing but trash, Harley. If it wasn’t for me you’d still be rotting in the trailer with your mother. I made you, I own you.
My stomach turned as I forced the memory from my mind. Even as I felt that familiar feeling, the tears faintly rising from within, I drove them back down. Jackson had gotten enough tears from me. I wouldn’t give him any more. As if sensing my distress, the kitten pounced onto my lap, blinking up at me as he purred. I ran my fingers over his tiny little head and he raised his body to my touch, kneading my thigh in contentment. I remembered how much Jackson had despised animals. He recoiled in disgust at the mention of getting a pet. Especially a cat.
At least you can use dogs for fighting, or for security...but a cat? He had stared at me incredulously, sickened by such a suggestion.
As I held the kitten in my lap, the thought only comforted me more. Jackson had no clue about love or companionship, and he never would. I had mistaken what we’d shared for love, but it was clear more than ever that a tiny, though slightly overweight kitten, was capab
le of more love and devotion than all 6’3”, 250 pounds of Jackson Donnings. I smiled at the thought and scratched under the little guy’s chin. Glancing over at the book resting on the coffee table, then back to him, I made up my mind. For now, this little man was the only one I needed. He mewed softly, rubbing his head against my hand as if in agreement.
“It’s just you and me, buddy. What do you think about Remy, since you’re my perfect little gentleman?” I smirked and scratched the little guy behind the ears. Another tiny purr escaped as he rubbed his neck against my palm. Whether he was satisfied with the attention, or the name, I took that as his approval.
Remy’s not-so-soft purring awoke me like an old v-8 engine starting next to my head, his tiny body rumbling as he curled against my neck. I hadn’t even realized I had fallen asleep, but when I opened my eyes the living room was dim with the absence of daylight. With the curtains still open, the streetlights gave me just enough illumination to see the corners of the coffee table and Remy’s sleeping form on my chest. Carefully cupping his body in my hands, I kissed the top of his head and placed him on the couch cushion. He shifted slightly but didn’t wake up. His big day of exploring had finally worn him out.
I tiptoed into the bathroom, not wanting to disturb the cuteness that was my new companion. I turned to watch his tiny dark form, a slumbering pile of fluff, as I reached my hand to the light switch. The light bulbs above the bathroom mirror blinked on and buzzed for a second before bathing the room in a harsh glow. I squinted my eyes as they adjusted from the darkness of the living room and yawned as I stretched out and groggily rubbed at them. I wasn’t sure what time it was, but my body still ached for rest.
Leaning over the sink I turned on the faucet, splashing the cool water over my face and pushing my hair back. When I stood back up, those same green eyes were staring back at me again. But this time I saw him.
The dark-haired boy from Nolan’s picture frame stood in front of me. No longer a boy, but a full-grown man. He still looked rather young, in his early twenties, like me. His eyes watched my own in an intense stare and, try as I might, I couldn’t look away. My whole body was locked into place, like broken gears jammed together. For several minutes I said nothing. I stood there as his eyes stared deeply into mine. His expression was blank, his pale face smoothed over and void of any hint of emotion.
“Brody?” The name finally found its way to my lips and a look of recognition spread over his features, his brows lifted slightly but his gaze was unchanging.
“This isn’t real.” I shook my head, finally breaking away from his stare as goose bumps prickled up my back and forearms. I squeezed my eyes shut, just like the other day. A few seconds and he would be gone. It’s just exhaustion, he isn’t really there. But his fierce emerald gaze dug into me as soon as I opened my eyes again. His chest rose as he appeared to draw in deep breaths, his features grew dark as his jaw jutted out slightly and he leaned toward me.
“You’re not real.” My voice trembled as I stepped backwards and nearly fell. My words only seemed to upset him. He turned away from the mirror for a moment, and I started to release a breath as my muscles relaxed. But Brody spun around with his arm raised and fist cocked back as anger twisted his features.
It’s a fucking mirror, Harley. This isn’t real! I clung to the wall to keep my legs from buckling beneath me. The glass of the mirror shattered outward in a loud crash and several pieces flew toward me. I ducked and covered my face as a piece scraped against the back of my hand.
I stayed there several minutes, not daring to look back up. My heart beat heavily inside my chest as I tried to slow my breathing. This isn’t real, I told myself even as my hands shook. I didn’t dare to lift an eyelid until I felt Remy’s soft fur brushing against my cheek and his loud purring rumbling against my skin.
As I pried one eye open, I found him curled up in a tiny heap on top of my chest once again. The couch I had been laying on was now lit up with the early morning sun. My body relaxed finally as I carefully sat up, cradling Remy in my arms. It was just a dream. I exhaled slowly, my pulse returned to normal – until I saw glass laying in pieces on my bathroom floor.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Airing Dirty Laundry
As much as I didn't want to leave Remy by himself, I needed to get out of the apartment. Brody's face was burned into my mind, haunting me even as I sat wide-awake in the middle of the laundromat. There was no explanation to what had happened last night. No way that my bathroom mirror could have shattered itself. I had been racking my brain all morning, trying to come to a reasonable explanation as to how it could have happened. I came up with nothing.
That side of the bathroom did not share a wall with a neighboring apartment and it certainly couldn't have been an earthquake. Thinking back to it, I was even less convinced that Remy had managed to leap onto the counter earlier that day either. While that tiny butterball had managed to scale the couch, he couldn’t have the ability or strength to launch himself as high as the counter. But what other explanation did I have? The only one I could think of was one I refused to believe.
Was I sleepwalking again? It would explain waking up in the kitchen the other day. But then if I broke the mirror in my sleep last night, why weren't my hands covered in cuts? I shook my head, adjusting my weight as I sat back against the hard plastic chair. I watched my clothes spinning in the washing machine in front of me, hoping the hypnotic swirl of colors would somehow zap Brody's face from my thoughts.
“Harley?” Nolan's deep husky voice startled me from my seat.
“Ugh, don’t do that!” I shot him a sideways glance, sinking back into the molded yellowing plastic. His lips turned down into a concerned frown. “I had a long night.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean ta startle ya.” His blue eyes shifted to mine ruefully as he sat down beside me.
“It’s fine.”
“Bad dreams?” He rested his elbows on his knees, a few curls rolling forward as his crystalline eyes watched me. With those curls and those eyes, he was quite handsome – when he wasn’t being a jerk.
“Just, uh...dreams about my home.” My words stunted together as I struggled to come up with something other than “Your dead friend shattered my fucking mirror,” which was sure to not go over well with him. “What are you doing here?” I gave him a suspicious look.
“My, umm, laundry?” A smirk crossed his lips and I forced my gaze away from him as I felt the growing heat in my cheeks that was surely a nice rosy shade. The machine my clothes were spinning around in buzzed and I was relieved to find something to busy myself with. He remained leaned back in his chair, still watching me as I yanked open the door of the washer. Dumping my wet heap of clothes into a laundry cart, I became very aware of just how many bras and panties were a part of the pile and my cheeks flushed once more. I purposely positioned myself in front of the cart, just in case he decided to peek at the contents.
Pulling the cart a few machines over, I opened the door to an unoccupied dryer and started tossing my wet under things inside. As I glanced back toward Nolan, he suddenly pulled himself upright in his chair and emitted a cough as he averted his gaze and wiped a smirk from his face. Had he just been staring at my ass? I quickly stood up as I pushed the door shut then jammed quarters into the slot as I shot him a dirty look.
“Listen, Harley. Since we’ve got a little bit of time ta kill waiting on our clothes, did ya want ta go get some coffee? I thought maybe we could talk.” As I turned back around, Nolan was standing with his hands shoved in his pockets and a hopeful look in his eyes. Even if I wanted to be pissed at him, that look alone made it difficult.
“I guess that’s okay.” I shrugged then grabbed my jacket and wriggled into it. Once more I noticed, for the briefest second that his eyes were lingering on me as I finally managed to slip my arms into my jacket. Another little smirk pulled at his lips and his cheeks flushed as he turned for the door with me in tow.
The cold air soothed my face. Despite a whole
night’s rest, I felt like I hadn’t slept at all. One more calm, dreamless night was all I wanted. One like the night when Nolan had made me stay at his place. I was half-tempted to ask if I could stay over again. Don’t even think about it!
I watched him as we walked, tawny corkscrews of hair bobbing freely as the wind blew threw them and pushed them away from his face. I took in his broad muscular shoulders that narrowed into slim hips as he pulled his jacket tight around him. His pace slowed as we reached a tiny café. There was a small patio out front that remained vacant in the increasingly colder weather. Nolan turned to me, holding the door as several curls blew back into his face. What a gentleman, when you aren't looking at my ass, I thought smartly.
The girl behind the counter stared up at me from behind frizzy orange bangs that nearly hid her hazel eyes. She smiled warmly at me, but her lips twisted into a scowl at the sight of Nolan. I had to do a double-take over my shoulder to be sure it was him she was giving such a nasty look to.
“Can I help you?” Her tone was dry, not even a hint of pleasantness.
“I’ll just get a grande caramel macchiato.”
“Same here.” Nolan spoke gruffly behind me then leaned forward placing his card on the counter. “I got it, okay?” He looked to me and I nodded.
“Hmmph.” The girl snatched the card in her freckled hand and swiped it through the machine, tossing it back towards him. As she turned toward the back counter, I looked over at Nolan, raising my eyebrow in curiosity.
“Ex-girlfriend or something?” His face was set in a similarly unpleasant frown as he watched the girl make our coffee.
“Um, no. Some people just don’t like me around here.”
“Is she going to spit in our coffee?” I found myself watching her as well, hoping she didn’t add anything special to my cup.