by Mallory Kane
"I've decided watching clothes wash is even more boring than watching paint dry. What do you say we go back upstairs and watch Pawn Stars or something."
Cat searched his face. Somehow she needed to get her best friend back. He was creeping over too far to the side of potential love interest, and with her track record, she didn't even want to contemplate what would happen if she actually did fall in love with him. So she needed to do something to remind both of them that they were best friends.
"You know what I wish?" she said brightly.
He shook his head.
"I wish we could go out to the lake and talk, like we used to. It's been six years. I want to hear all about Japan, how many girlfriends you had, every exciting, weird, fun thing you did over there." Cat took a deep breath. "And I want to tell you all about my love life. I really need to talk about David." It was a lie, but she couldn't tell him that all she really wanted was to feel safe and comfortable with him, to rediscover her best friend.
At her words, something changed in Michael's demeanor. He sent her a sharp glance, a familiar glance that told Cat he was unhappy about something. Maybe he was as eager to get past that kiss as she was. Somehow, their closeness these last couple of weeks had led them to that point. He probably regretted it too. He'd probably just been caught up in the moment. He was a man, after all. And she'd had on that teeny-weeny dress.
Yep. All she needed to do was nudge them back over to the friend side. Then she could work on talking herself out of her attraction for him. That was all. It was just physical, brought on by living in the same apartment.
"Is that what you want to do? Go out to the lake and talk about our respective love lives?"
"Yeah," she said uncertainly. "Like we used to. It'll be fun."
Michael tossed the pillow case he was holding onto the table with more than a little force. "I don't think so. Not tonight." He walked to the door. "I've got some stuff to do upstairs. I'll come down and put the clothes in the dryer later."
Cat frowned at him, but he just shrugged.
"They'll be done in four minutes," she said. "Leave me some change and I'll put them in the dryer," she said. She had no idea what had made him angry, but she recognized the signs. His jaw worked, his brows lowered, and he hunched his shoulders in that way she knew so well. Oh he was angry all right.
"Fine," he bit out, slinging a handful of change and dollar bills onto the table.
"Michael--" she started, but he was gone and the door slammed behind him.
She caught a quarter before it rolled off the table and sat there, turning it over in her hand and frowning at it.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The next morning Cat stared at the questionnaire.
Deb poked her head in the door as she walked by. "How goes the battle?"
Cat shook her head. "You know," she said. "Terrible."
Deb pivoted and stepped into Cat's cubicle. "Okay, spill."
Cat shrugged. "Oh I don't know. What would you do if your mother were acting like a teenager with one of the most successful men in the entire nation?"
"One of the most--wow. Listening to you talk about your life is better than watching The Real Housewives."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
"Tell me about your mother. Who is this 'most successful man?'"
Shaking her head, Cat clicked on the link to the next screen. "You won't believe it."
Deb grabbed Cat's hand, stopping her. "Try me."
Cat let go of the mouse and turned in her chair. "You'd better sit down."
"This better be worth it."
"Don't worry." She looked at her friend. "You remember her new boyfriend? Ole butt-crack Hank, whom I've been making fun of?"
"Sure."
"You'll never guess who he really is. Wait for it. Williams Blair."
"The architect?" Deb's voice was a high-pitched squeal.
Cat nodded disgustedly.
"Oh, my God. What a catch! Do you realize he's one of the most eligible young bachelors in the entire nation?"
"'Young' being the operative word."
"Wow, and he's so handsome too."
"Yeah, well, he's not dating your over the hill mother."
"I'm not sure I understand what the problem is here." Deb looked searchingly at Cat, and Cat averted her gaze.
"I mean, what have I heard from you ever since you started working here. My mother's life is such a mess. I wish she could find somebody good for her and settle down. Why does my mother pick such losers--yada, yada, yada."
Hunching her shoulders, Cat stared at the computer screen.
"Cat? You certainly can't call Williams Blair a loser."
She winced. Nope. Loser was definitely not a word to be associated with him. "I'm supposed to believe that he is interested in my mother?"
"Don’t see why not. Your mother's a lovely woman."
Cat didn't reply. Why was everybody taking her mother's side in this? Didn't anybody see that nothing good could come of a relationship between Janice and Williams Blair.
"What am I going to do, Deb?"
"Um, be happy for her?"
Cat sighed and clicked the mouse, opening another page, which she stared at without seeing. "My mother is forty-six, and Williams Blair is thirty-seven, as he was so quick to point out to me. Not to even mention the fact that he’s--Williams Blair."
Deb twirled her hair. "Well I think it’s incredibly romantic."
Cat thought if she knew how to harrumph, she would. "Is there anything you don’t think is romantic?"
"Lots of things, including your attitude. You say you want to see your mother happy. Is she happy?"
Cat shrugged.
"Answer me, Catherine Mary Morris."
"She seems to be. But Deb, he's changing her. She's letting her hair go back to its real color, which, I must say, I've never seen. She's quit wearing those lethal talons on her fingernails. And, as if that weren't enough, she had on linen, a natural fabric, which she hasn't worn since her blue jean phase, when she was married to the bass player. Ugh." She shuddered.
"So far I haven't heard anything worth a shudder."
Cat glared at her friend. "Didn't you hear what I said? He's changing her."
Deb nodded, and chewed on the end of a strand of hair. "I heard. I've heard some other things too. Wasn't it you who said you wished your mother would dress more her age? Wasn't it you, her daughter, who said you wished she would find somebody normal, somebody who could give her what she needs?"
"Well, yes, but--"
"And so what's wrong with Williams Blair, other than he's rich as Croesus and handsome as Apollo?"
"How about he's younger than Cupid?"
"As I recall, Cupid was quite a grown young man, with all the requisite parts."
Cat groaned.
Laughing, Deb patted her shoulder. "This is not a bad thing, Cat. I'm really having trouble understanding what the problem is here. You should be happy for your mother. Support her. It would probably be good for both of you if you could show her you approve of her."
Approve of her? Cat's head jerked up and she eyed her friend suspiciously. "I’m not sure I do."
Deb nodded sagely. "Think about why, Cat. You need to sit down and seriously evaluate why it bothers you so much that your mother is happy."
"I don't know that she is happy. I've only met this guy once, and Janice is so giddy you'd think she was a debutante on the eve of her coming out. And besides, if Williams Blair is so The One, why hasn't she mentioned him to me before now?"
"Well, you've been a little preoccupied."
"Me! What about her! She never even calls me."
"Do you call her?"
Cat averted her gaze. "I did the other night, after David moved out, but she was all full of herself and her new boyfriend. She wasn't exactly overflowing with motherly concern."
"And when's the last time you acted like you needed motherly concern from her?"
"Hey! Whose side ar
e you on here?"
"Yours, of course. I'm always on your side."
That was the same thing Michael had said to her. I've always been on your side, Cat. Her throat clogged. Then why didn't it ever feel like it? Why did she always feel like she was climbing uphill in quicksand?
"You know what your problem is, Cat?"
"No, Deb." She sat back and crossed her arms. "Please, tell me. What is my problem?"
"You spend way too much time thinking about yourself."
"Oh thank you, friend."
"Don’t get smart with me. I’m your closest friend, besides Michael, of course. I know you, and I’m going to give you a piece of advice. You have some unresolved issues with your mother, and you need to get them worked out. IMHO, you're never going to be happy until you can accept your mother for who she is and be happy for her."
"I could be happy for her, if she didn't always make these huge mistakes with men."
"Wow." Deb sat back and laughed.
"What?"
"I never actually witnessed a pot calling a kettle black before."
"You can leave now." Cat was having trouble with her throat, and her eyes. For some reason her eyes were stinging and her throat was all lumpy. She blinked and turned back to the computer screen.
"I didn't mean to upset you."
"I'm not upset," she said tightly. "I'm just busy."
"Okay. Sorry. Look. If you want to talk, I'll promise to be quiet and just listen."
Cat nodded without looking up.
Deb left, and Cat turned her back on the entrance to her cubicle. She stared off into space as she tried to swallow the lump in her throat. Why was Deb being so mean to her? Didn't she understand that Cat was worried about her mother? This Hank was probably going to break her heart. Cat thought about how happy her mother had looked, and a tight, achy feeling started in her chest. She knew what it was. It was fear--for her mother and for herself.
After a few seconds she swiped at her eyes and turned back to the computer. She had to get the rest of those questionnaires input today, so she could start the test phase of the software.
By afternoon, Cat had gotten almost nothing done, and she was more miserable than she'd been that morning. Plus at lunchtime, Deb was nowhere to be found, so Cat had just grabbed a cola and gone back to staring at the YOU DOT COM webpage.
After reading over the same three lines of code for the twenty-fifth time, Cat groaned and flopped back in her chair, pushing her fingers through her hair. She wiped her face, drained the cola can, then stood up and tried to pace, which wasn't easy in her five by five space.
Blowing out a huge sigh, she decided to bite the bullet and go apologize to Deb. She walked the long way around to Deb's cubicle.
Her friend was twisting her hair with one hand as she clicked down page after page of code with the other, muttering to herself.
"Deb?" Cat said cautiously.
Deb didn't look up.
"Um, Deb?" she said a little louder.
Her friend dropped her twist of hair and turned around. "Hi, Cat," she said, as if nothing had transpired between them just this morning, then turned back to the computer screen.
For a moment, Cat was tempted just to ask if she wanted to go get a coke or something, but guilt had already eaten quite a hole in her conscience. She knew Deb was right about her. She did tend to be awfully self-centered about some things. She owed Deb this apology, and she was determined to give it to her.
"Deb, can we talk?"
Deb's shoulders raised in a shrug. "Sure, fire away."
"I mean really talk. You know--talk."
Deb turned around and eyed her friend sharply. "Okay. Now?"
"Yeah, sure." Cat swallowed. That frightened feeling was still pressing on her breast, and she had no idea where it had come from or what it was doing there. But she couldn't ignore it.
She sat down.
Deb clicked her mouse, then typed something and hit return. Then she turned and gave her full attention to Cat.
Cat licked her lips, and smoothed her skirt.
"Okay, Cat. Whatcha need?" Deb was determined to play it cool.
"I know what you're doing."
Deb's eyes narrowed. "What am I doing?"
"Don't think I don't appreciate it. You're giving me an out. In fact, you're giving me out after out after out, but I don't need an out. I don't even want one."
"O-o-o-kay," Deb said slowly, a frown forming between her brows.
Cat smiled reluctantly. "Don't worry. I haven't gone totally nuts. I know you're pretending nothing happened, so I'll feel more comfortable. I realize that a lot of the time I'm self-centered, but I do know that you're always trying your best to make other people feel comfortable, and to give them every benefit of the doubt."
Deb's eyebrows raised.
"That's why I know it was hard for you to say what you said this morning. You probably would have rather cut your tongue out than say something to hurt me."
Deb's brows rose even higher.
"But I'm glad you said it. It needed to be said. You're right. I've got to think about it for a while. Maybe a month, maybe even a year. I've got to try to figure out why seeing my mother with Williams Blair scared me."
"Aw, Cat--"
"No." She held up her hand. "Let me finish. This could well be the only apology you ever hear from me so you'd better enjoy it."
Deb's mouth turned up and her eyes sparkled.
"So--," Cat took a deep breath and blurted out as fast as she could talk, "I'm sorry I was mean to you when all you were doing was trying to help me see what I'm doing to myself. Thank you."
Deb sat there for a long moment. "You're welcome," she said finally. "Want a hug?"
Cat laughed shakily. "Yeah. I think maybe I need one. Then I have something else I need to talk about, if you have time."
Deb stood and leaned over to hug Cat. Cat hugged her back tightly. She'd never done much hugging, except with her grandmother. It felt good. Cat's eyes began to mist over.
"Okay, enough with the gooey stuff," she said brightly.
Deb sat back down and smiled at her.
"Stop looking at me like you just hatched me."
Deb laughed. "What's your other problem? Michael?"
Cat nodded miserably.
"I knew it. What happened?"
"What makes you think something happened?"
"Trust me. The mother hen knows."
Cat sighed. "I'm not sure what happened. I was going out to dinner with Janice and um, Hank, and when I came out Michael danced with me, and--"
"He danced with you?"
"Yeah, you know. He just whirled me around a couple of times, then he dipped me and--"
"He dipped you?"
"Would you stop repeating everything I say."
"Was I doing that?"
By the renewed sparkle in her eyes, Cat knew Deb was teasing her. "Just stop it."
"What happened after he dipped you?" Deb leaned forward in her chair.
"Well he kind of--he sort of just--well, he kissed me."
"Oh my God!"
"Deb!"
"Okay, sorry. Then what happened?"
"For some reason, he seemed to get mad, grabbed some sandwich stuff out of the refrigerator, said I was the most beautiful woman in Nashville tonight, and shooed me out the door."
"Whoa!"
"Whoa? What do you mean, whoa?"
"So what kind of kiss was it? Little kiss, big kiss, short kiss, long kiss?"
Cat closed her eyes, reliving, Michael’s strong arms sweeping her into the dip, and his dark blue eyes settling on her mouth before he kissed her. She felt her face grow warm.
"You’re blushing. It was a big kiss, wasn't it?"
Cat put her palms against her hot cheeks. "Deb, please. You’re driving me nuts. This is all your fault, you know. You’ve got me thinking all sorts of inappropriate things about Michael –"
"Good! Now about that kiss."
Cat sighed in defe
at. "It was short, but it felt long. Does that make any sense?"
Debra clapped her hands in glee. "Of course it does. You're falling for him."
Of course that's what Deb would think. "I am not!" The pressure on her chest was back. She rubbed the ache with her hand, trying to make her breathing even.
"Oh this is very good. He'd never have asked you to move in with him if he didn't want you. Oh this is good."
"It is not good. Would you stop saying that. Do you know what he would say if he heard you?"
"Do you? You may be his best friend, but I’ve seen him look at you."
Cat was ready to fire the next retort that hovered on the tip of her tongue, but Dev's words stopped her cold. "What do you mean by that?"
"I mean, he looks at you like a lover."
"What? No. You're wrong!"
"He does. His eyes go all smoky and soft, and his mouth turns up just the least little bit. You cannot possibly be that blind, Cat. There’s got to be some other reason you're resisting falling for Michael."
"I am not resisting, because I am not falling. You, however, are living in La La Land."
"Keep talking. What else?"
Cat looked away. She'd always loved Deb's insights and her caring concern. But right now she was digging at a sore place inside Cat that she didn't want exposed. "Nothing." Cat waved a hand dismissively.
"Don't give me that. I see the guilty look in your eye."
"Guilty look?" Cat laughed.
"If you don't tell me I'll be forced to ask Michael."
Cat stared at her friend in horror. "You wouldn't," she whispered.
"Oh yes I would."
"Okay okay," Cat cried, holding up her hands in surrender. "We were talking and eating ice cream and he kind of--kissed me again."
"I knew it!"
Cat glared at her friend. "You couldn't know that, because I didn't know he was going to kiss me. I don't even think he knew he was. So how could you?"
"Call me psychic. What happened when he kissed you the second time? What happened next?" Debra was glowing like a mother hen again.
"We did laundry," Cat mumbled.
"What?" Deb feigned a total collapse in her chair. "You did laundry? That's not some weird euphemism for –"
"No!" Cat shouted.