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“What do you mean by ‘too many?’” She gawks around my kitchen—a carbon copy of the one she saw earlier in my other house. “Are you building a lot of houses right now or something?”
“I’ve just built these two so far, but I own the majority of the land in this community, so eventually, I’ll build more.”
I don’t usually brag about my net worth, but I guess she wounded my pride with her assumption.
Now she gawks at me. “You own the majority of the land here?” Then a lightbulb seems to go off in her brain. “Is that why the guard said something about the HOA rules not applying to you?”
I nod. “I have the majority of the vote at the HOA, so I treat their silly rules as suggestions only. To put it another way, I let them have their rules.” I open the drawer with all my sashimi gear. “If they piss me off, I’ll show up to the annoying meetings and vote for the whole community to be run the way I wish. That’s why they mostly leave me alone… at least as much as their quarrelsome natures allow.”
As I open the bag of fresh fish, Sally materializes as if from thin air and slowly blinks her big eyes at me.
Aha, our wiles strike again. Using mind-fuckery of the highest order, we have successfully manipulated our captor into getting us the sustenance we rightly deserve. Once our belly is full, escape will be imminent.
“Oh, my god,” Brooklyn exclaims. “What kind of cat is that?”
“A Ragamuffin.” I begin filleting the salmon as Sally looks on so intently you’d think she were either hypnotized or trying to hypnotize me.
We will forgive our captor for the “ragamuffin” insult… this time. But one day, when the tomcat-in-shining-armor saves us, all scores will be settled. In blood.
“You’re such a cutie,” Brooklyn says to Sally. “What’s your name?”
“Sally,” I say, in case the cat isn’t feeling very chatty at the moment.
“Hold on.” Brooklyn drags her gaze away from the cat and examines me with a grin. “Harry and Sally?”
Keeping a poker face, I slice the fish as I’ve been taught. “What?”
“Oh, please,” she says. “When Harry Met Sally?”
“He barked,” I deadpan. “And she hissed. But now they’re best friends. Usually.”
Brooklyn groans in irritation. “You know perfectly well that When Harry Met Sally is a romantic comedy. With Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan.”
I slice the fish some more. “Fine. Yes. That was my mom’s favorite movie.” The admission simultaneously warms my chest and makes it hurt. I remember Mom and Dad playfully fighting over the last pieces of popcorn when we’d watch that movie during my childhood—and I recall my embarrassment the last time we saw that movie with Mom at the hospital because I was finally old enough to understand the fake orgasm scene with Meg Ryan at the restaurant. I also recall Dad putting on the movie the day after Mom’s funeral and how he couldn’t stop crying throughout.
“I’m sorry,” Brooklyn says, probably spotting my expression. “I didn’t mean to bring up your mom. Again.”
“It’s fine,” I say, but I’m not sure if I sound persuasive enough.
Brooklyn clears her throat. “Do you mind if I play with Sally?”
I hand over a tiny slice of sashimi. “If you want a good start, give her this.”
Brooklyn slowly walks over to the cat and proffers the treat.
Sally devours the fish, but her gaze doesn’t warm up to the new human.
Brooklyn very pointedly blinks in slow motion at Sally.
Odd. But hey, Sally seems to like the gesture. She purrs and even rubs herself on Brooklyn’s sleeve.
Seeing all that, Harry prances over and wags his tail at Brooklyn. Dudette. I totally like to play too, bro. And if you could scratch behind my ear, that would be totally awesome sauce.
Proving she can read Harry as well as I can, Brooklyn scratches behind his ears, making him quite happy. She then rubs his belly, which upgrades happy to ecstatic but makes Sally narrow her eyes.
“Watch out,” I say. “The cat has a serious jealous streak.” And, if I’m honest, I’m also a little jealous of all the PDA my dog is getting.
Fuck. What am I thinking?
