by Rozsa Gaston
****
At four o'clock, the door chime sounded. Roxy glanced up, expecting to see another prospective cat-parent. They'd had six already, not counting the obnoxious waiting-for-the-movie family. Instead, it was Max Weller. Roxy's heart did cartwheels. Good grief. She'd never reacted this strongly to a man. Ever. Was she so attention-starved she'd clamor after the first tall, gorgeous, brown-eyed, dimple-endowed man who came through the door? Apparently, yes. And her palms were sweaty again. Had she been deported back to seventh grade? Control yourself, Roxy, you're a big girl now.
"So how did Derek do? Everything okay?" Max asked.
At first, Max's scrumptiousness mesmerized Roxy. His huge brown eyes and deep dimples made his face almost impossible not to look at. He made her insides purr. Her mind was mushy cornflakes. Ah, she could stare at him all month. She sighed.
But wait a minute. She realized what had been bugging her all day since Derek's confession about his mom and the projectile cat. "Hey. Just where do you get off sending the poor boy to work here, of all places?" Putting her hands on her size-ten hips, her left foot tapped out a staccato beat.
Max's initial smile morphed into a frown. "What?"
"I mean, come on. His mom threw a cat on him, scaring him to death, and you bring him here? It's just plain cruel."
His eyes widened. "She threw a…? Oh no." He ran a large hand over his face. "I didn't know."
"Please. Give me a break." Crossing her arms, she glared at him. Did he expect her to believe him? How could he not know? He was the boy's father, after all.
Max's eyes seemed incredibly sad as he gazed down at her. "Honest. I….She did a lot of rotten things, but Derek never told me about the cat."
"It's true. I never told him before."
Roxy and Max gazed toward the doorway where Derek stood. She hadn't realized he'd been standing there. How much had the poor kid heard? Her face heated up. Those stupid flappy lips of hers had worked overtime.
Max walked over to Derek and gazed down at his son, placing his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Why didn't you say something before coming here?"
"This was the only choice besides detention. And besides, I screwed up so royally I didn't want to disappoint you again. I'm sorry, Dad." Derek's eyes clouded with tears.
Roxy glanced at Max. His eyes were the same. She felt like used, stinky, needed-cleaned-four-days-ago kitty litter. Nothing like making an idiot of herself. Holding up her hand, she said, "Listen Max—"
He shook his head. "It's okay. Believe me, there's no way you could have known. Besides, I'm just so appreciative you've agreed to help us. You'll never know how much. Right, Derek?"
Derek shrugged. "Even though I scooped cat poop all day."
Max laughed, a big loud sound which reverberated around the room. "Gee, sounds like fun."
"You could do it all day, too, Dad."
Max raised his dark eyebrows. "You know, you're right. What a great idea."
Roxy felt confused, and it must have showed on her face because Max explained. "I'm a basketball coach and teacher at the high school. Since I'm not teaching summer school this year, I do have a lot of free time on my hands. Not every day, but most. Mind some more help?"
"Sure," she said. "Great. We can always use extra paws around here. Plus, it will give you and Derek more time together, right?"
Max nodded and glanced at his son. "Yes, we haven't had much time, have we Derek? I could sure use a lot more time with you."
For the first time all day, the boy's mouth turned up at the corners. Just a little. Maybe there was hope for him after all.
Astraea Press
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