“She was too bossy. Where did you meet her anyway? Work?”
“Yeah.”
Ryan shook his head. “Never date a girl from work, Des. That’s rule number one.”
When the company had offered certain departments the chance to work from home, Desmond had jumped at the chance. Office politics, the petty chit chat, the rivalries, the matchmaking attempts were annoying. He preferred the peace of working from home. No distractions, no one asking him to contribute to this fund or that fund, no forced joviality over dry cake in the office break room. Peace and solitude. Perhaps too much solitude.
“You know what I want? I just want a woman who doesn’t want to be out five out of seven nights a week. I’m a quiet guy. I like being home.”
“Somebody at home to bake cookies for ya?” Ryan grinned. “A little Suzy Homemaker?”
Desmond frowned. He didn’t want someone barefoot and pregnant. “Not exactly. Just someone who doesn’t feel the need to… I don’t know.” He hated to admit it but whilst Angela’s vivacity attracted him at first, eventually it wore him down with its relentlessness. Angela was never, ever off.
“You need to get out more, Des. Maybe working from home ain’t so good for ya.”
“You’re telling me.” He shifted position on the metal bench, felt something slide from his track pants pocket and clang against the metal supports on its way down to the grass below. “Shit!”
Ryan sat up. “What happened?”
“Dropped my keys.”
They both peered down into the darkness below the bleachers.
“We’re up high enough that they should be right near the back,” Ryan said. “So you don’t have to crawl on your hands and knees across old trash, rotten food and used rubbers.”
Desmond grimaced as he got up. “Thanks for that description.” He didn’t relish crawling around in the dirt and trash and God knows what else in the shadow of the bleachers. “Be right back.”
“I’ll be right here, enjoying the sights.”
* * * *
Desmond found his way around the back of the bleachers with no difficulty. The space under the bleachers was dark but he was able to locate his keys easily, the plain sterling silver rectangular tab gleaming dully in the gloom. The only problem was the yards of orange construction mesh stretched around the entire base of the bleachers, a physical keep out sign. He sighed and looked around. He could probably pull it down or somehow climb over it, but what a pain in the ass. He looked around for a stick, something he could reach through the mesh with and somehow pull the keys toward him.
“Meow.”
The sound startled him. It was so dark under the bleachers that he hadn’t even seen the cat sitting right next to his keys. As he watched, the cat stretched out on top of the keys, watching him. Of course, the cat would lie down on top of the keys.
“Hey, cat,” he said half-jokingly. “Can you bring me my keys?”
The cat sat up and stared at him, somewhat reproachfully, he thought. Then, amazingly, it picked up the keychain in its mouth. The keys tinkled gently against each other as they hung from the cat’s tiny teeth.
Could the cat actually understand him?
“Fetch,” he said. “Ah… bring the keys, cat?”
The cat walked two steps forward and sat down again. Staring at him.
He stuck his fingers through the orange mesh, wiggled them. “Come on, kitty,” he crooned. “Bring them here.”
A few more steps, more wheedling words from him and the cat came close enough to where he could gingerly take the keys from its mouth and pull them through the construction mesh.
He tossed the keys in his hand for a moment, staring at the brown, long haired cat, who stared right back at him. The day was beginning to heat up; the sun beat down on his head, and he wanted to get home and take a shower. But this cat, how strange… it bringing him his keys like that. Not that he wasn’t grateful, but wow.
“Thanks,” he said finally. “I owe you one, kitty.”
“Meow,” the cat responded, turned and retreated into the darkness.
Chapter Three
How could you tell someone, anyone that you had just been turned into a shape-shifting housecat? She supposed she should be grateful that she wasn’t changed into something that would really stand out in suburbia like a tiger or a bear. Sakaria gave a little cat sigh as she prowled along the edge of houses and through dark backyards until she made it to the downtown area, not far, as much as she could tell, from the café. She had visited around here several times in the last month after getting over her fear of leaving the house. The instinct in her to roam had driven her so crazy one night that she’d shredded the bottom of the living room drapes. After that, she’d installed a cat door and studied up on cat territorial behaviors as much as she could. She didn’t want to step on anybody’s paws.
She smelled the other cats before she saw them and she approached carefully, taking a step at a time, ears laid back against her skull. She hoped she was doing it right, because there were at least five cats that she could see, gathered around what looked and smelled like a scrumptious pile of discarded steak.
A fat calico cat separated itself from the group and stalked toward her, tail and ears high. Not a good sign, Sakaria thought, and sat down abruptly, mewling. The cat hissed at her in warning. Sakaria mewled again and dipped her head slightly, hoping that the calico would change her mind.
Calico Cat seemed to consider the gesture, then turned and trotted back to where the other cats were eating. Sakaria trotted right after her and joined in, delicately nibbling at the steak. Not only was it pretty tasty, but it also marked a foray into the world of cats. If she could behave as they did she might have some companionship for her night travels.
After participating in some community grooming with her new cat friends, Sakaria strolled in the general direction of her house. The cold December air didn’t penetrate her thick fur, but it nipped at her nose and the pavement was cool under her paws. Some businesses in the downtown area had already begun putting up Christmas decorations. She yawned, knowing that she’d have to get some sleep before she was due for work in the morning. Julie would cover for her, she was sure, but she couldn’t let her cat nightlife interfere with the human life that actually paid the bills. Plus, she could tell Julie was working herself up into asking questions.
Not for the first time, her mind traveled back to the incident of the flying keys, as she liked to call it. There she was, cooling out a bit under the bleachers, when those keys came tumbling through the air, smacking the ground only inches from her head. She could have been killed! But the keys had smelled so good that she had to see who the owner was.
He was total awesome sauce, as Julie would put it. Tall, dark-haired and very well built. She could see kindness in his brown eyes and could tell by the way he spoke to her, that he liked and respected animals. Most other people would have poked a stick through the fencing to scare her away from the keys; maybe throw a rock or bottle at her for good measure. But this one didn’t. He actually asked her to bring the keys to him. How could she resist? It was the least she could do to brighten his day, given that she was never going to even see him again.
She was so busy reminiscing about her key-rescue mission and wondering about the guy, who he was and other important details, that she nearly ran into the cat. He was, at least fifteen pounds or more, with wicked yellow-green eyes that seemed to leer at her. He was gray and white tiger striped, shot through with black. Sakaria stopped in her tracks and just stared at him. Holy shit.
As she turned to run, he jumped on her and sunk his teeth into the scruff of her neck. She screeched in pain and tried to struggle forward but he had his entire weight on top of her. His scent filled her nostrils, a mixture of old urine and slimy garbage. Somehow she managed to scratch him with her back claws and he let go. Shaken and frightened, she sprinted to her house, not stopping until she was through her own cat door.
She shifted and s
at there with her naked back against the door, catching her breath. What if he followed me, she thought, and with fumbling fingers, closed the latch on the door. The cat had given her such a scare that she forgot she was now human and thus much larger than he.
Gingerly, she touched the back of her neck and was relieved to see that there was no blood on her fingers. The tom’s teeth must not have broken the skin, though it certainly felt like they did at the time.
“Ye gods…” she said aloud and laughed shakily. She stuck her hands in her hair, which was loose and wild around her shoulders and rubbed her scalp. “Can’t even take a night stroll these days.”
* * * *
The shrill call of her cordless phone jerked Sakaria out of a sound sleep. Groggy and still grumpy from her encounter with the tomcat, she reached out blindly and snatched the handset from her nightstand, fumbled with the ‘ON’ button.
“Hello.” Her voice was fogged with sleep.
“Sakaria, this is your mother.”
She cleared her throat to sound a little more human. “Hi Mom, what’s going on?”
“It’s hot, as usual.” Her parents had moved to Arizona because of her father’s asthma. New Jersey’s humidity had been just too much for him. It was either move to the dry heat capital of the United States or stay on steroid medication for the rest of his life. So far, her parents were pleased and happy with their decision even though it took them away from their only child.
“But it’s a dry heat, right?” She loved to tease her mother. “Not like the sticky New Jersey heat? I don’t know how you stand it, dry heat or not. Last Christmas, I was almost burnt to a crisp. Julie barely recognized me at the airport.”
“Oh, Sakaria, you looked beautiful with that tan. Everyone can use color and the Vitamin D benefit is just wonderful. Your father’s asthma has improved so much that he barely needs his rescue inhaler.”
“Good! I know he’s happy about that. I know he hated coughing up that cash to pay for all that medication. Pun intended.” Sakaria had always worried about her father’s health condition. It took a lot off her mind to hear that he was so much better.
Her mother’s laugh echoed across the long distance lines. “Sakaria, I was calling to let you know that we won’t be here for Christmas. We’re going on a cruise.”
“That sounds like fun, Mom! To where?”
“I have no idea. Your father arranged it. I think he said something about Alaska. I’m just sorry we won’t see you this year for Christmas.”
“Don’t worry about it. There’s enough here to keep me busy. You two need to go enjoy yourselves.” Truth was she was relieved. She didn’t know if she would even be able to fly. What if she shifted on the plane? Plus, there were coyotes in Arizona. It was too dangerous all around.
“I’m glad that you’re not upset. I was worried that you would be disappointed.” Her mother paused. “What’s up with you, young lady? How is that café going?”
“It’s going well. We’re actually turning a profit and may be able to offer more benefits to the employees starting next year.”
“I am so proud of you and what you’re doing.” She sighed and Sakaria knew what was coming next. If only you would meet a nice young man.
“If only you would meet a nice young man.”
Sakaria shifted the phone to the other shoulder, got out of bed and went to the kitchen. Her favorite toy, an orange ball with a bell inside, lay on the kitchen floor where she’d left it. She sat cross-legged on the floor in her pink nightshirt and began idly knocking it back and forth.
“I meet a lot of nice young men, Mom,” she said. “They come into the café all the time.” She thought about the flying key incident. He would have been perfect, if she hadn’t had the slight problem of being a cat when she’d met him.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Don’t be fresh.”
“I’m not ready to settle down.”
It was the same conversation that she and her mother always had. Her mother was pleased that Sakaria had found her own way in life. She and Julie had gone into business together on a whim and had built the rundown greasy spoon they had purchased to an upscale coffee shop and bakery that was well received in the town. Didn’t stop her Mom from pushing the family side of things though.
And now the familiar conversation had a distinct undertone on Sakaria’s side. If she didn’t get this curse taken off what was going to happen to her? As it was, there didn’t seem to be any answers for her and no future that she could see. Certainly, she couldn’t get married. How would anyone explain that? There would be no nice young men in her future.
Sakaria swallowed past the lump in her throat and forced some lightness into her voice. “Mom, I’ll find someone to settle down with, but you have to promise me that you won’t make him play golf with you and Dad.”
Her mother chuckled. “Oh, we won’t, sweetie. I can promise you that. Your father is very choosy about his golf partners. I barely made the cut.” She paused. “Which reminds me we have a tee time in about an hour.”
“All right. Talk to you soon. Love you. Give my love to Dad. Have fun on the cruise!”
“I’m sure we’ll talk before we leave, Sakaria, it’s not even the tenth. We don’t leave until the twentieth. Love you too, dear. Talk soon.”
“Bye, Mom!”
Sakaria clicked the end button on the handset, got up and tossed it onto the counter. By the stove’s digital clock, it was ten a.m. She was late, but still she dawdled, pushing the little orange ball with her toe. No Christmas in Arizona this year. Oh, well. Remember the coyotes; they would probably love a chunk of tasty cat meat. There’s always liquor and Chinese food at Julie’s.
Chapter Four
The chimes tinkled softly as Desmond pulled open the etched glass door, holding it open as a chattering couple shouldered their way past him on their way out. Their hands were full with two huge cups of coffee and a bag full of baked goods.
The café seemed busy and that was a good sign, something he needed because it was only two months into the new year and his meticulously groomed schedule was already falling apart. His old reliable Jersey diner had experienced a fire, which somehow he suspected was set by the owner, a jovial yet shifty eyed man in his late sixties. The diner hadn’t been doing that well in the past months.
He missed his diner greatly. Every morning for the past year he had climbed the old, cracked cement stairs for his coffee and multigrain bagel—not toasted please—with cream cheese. It was a routine that he liked, that he needed, and to have it disrupted was a little unnerving. His parents had moved a lot when he was in elementary school, endlessly searching for a place where his father could get and keep work. That was a lost cause. He’d realized when he was ten. His father had had a bad drinking problem and keeping a steady job had been pretty much out of the question for him.
He had chosen Café Dolce not on a whim, but on the fact that it had a parking space in front and that it wasn’t a terrible chain where they watered down the coffee and shipped in their baked goods from some anonymous distribution center. Some of the so-called baked goods they served at those places were no more flavorful than a chunk of Styrofoam.
The rich fragrance of coffee and fresh baked pastries hung over the spacious and sunny dining area like a heavenly cloud, encouraging the customer to stay. Large, lush plants decorated the pale pink painted space, reinforcing the Zen quality of the door chimes. There were no residual Valentine’s Day decorations, meaning if they had been up, they had been taken down in a timely fashion. He’d been in a place the other day where the Christmas decorations were still up.
There were three workers behind the white counter who appeared to be efficient at taking and filling orders with little delay. He joined the line, telling himself if he didn’t receive his order and get on his way in fifteen minutes, he was never coming back.
As he waited, he had studied the bewildering array of coffee and coffee combinations and had his order read
y when he reached the counter. He hated when people asked questions when they were supposed to be ordering, holding up the rest of the line for their breakfast research project. Luckily, there was none of that going on. Most of the customers seemed to be regulars and knew exactly what they wanted. Another good sign.
“Good morning,” the counter girl chirped, a pleasant brown-skinned young woman. Her two Afro puffs made her look like a Mouseketeer. “Welcome to Café Dolce, may I take your order ple—”
She stepped backward as she spoke and bumped another worker who was walking behind her, causing him to spill hot coffee on her back.
“Oooouch!” She put a hand behind her. “Justin!”
“Sorry, Mandy,” the young man apologized.
The girl looked back at Desmond apologetically, professional even in her slight pain. “I’m sorry, please excuse me,” she said as she ran in the back.
Justin began mopping up the mess he made with the coffee while the other counter person was working with a customer on the caloric difference between half and half and non-dairy creamer.
Great, Desmond thought, checking his watch. It wasn’t enough that his favorite diner probably wouldn’t be open again for a month. Nor that the routine he had carefully established for the past year was disrupted. No, he was going to be late for the monthly staff meeting on top of it all and… His thoughts stopped abruptly as his eyes took in the woman before him.
“I’m sorry for the wait,” she spoke in a low, husky voice as she tied an apron around her waist. “May I take your order?”
Desmond stared at her for about five seconds too long, his mind a log jam of thoughts. He’d always dismissed those love clichés, struck by the thunderbolt, hit with the hammer, as mere exaggerations of romantically inflamed minds, but right now he would attest to the fact that all of them were true.
She was, in a word, enchanting. He had been at Ryan’s house one time when his little nieces and nephews had been over. Ryan had allowed them to watch some DVD or other with a princess. On the sly, Ryan had remarked that they made the cartoon princesses hot so that the fathers would have something to look at while the kids enjoyed the movie.
Kitty Wishes Page 2