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He’s leaving, and Madison’s not here, which means the apartment is empty except for…my cat.
“Of course,” I say, doing a one-eighty and flashing a grin. I wind Donut’s leash around my wrist, hoist two bags on one shoulder, and drag the other down the hall.
Bump, bump, bump.
Then the steps.
To the front door while Steven holds it open for me. Like that’s gentlemanly. “There. Told you I’d help.”
“You’re so generous,” I lie, faking a smile as he heads to his sleek SUV parked at the curb. He hops in, waving goodbye.
My smile burns off.
And I hustle. With Donut trotting on her tiny Dachshund legs, we race to my little car in the parking lot. I load the garbage bags into the backseat and set Donut in the front. “Be a good girl,” I tell my rescue pup as I crack the window a little for her.
She barks back a yes. I grab my backpack from the floor of the car and dump the contents of it on the seat, assessing the inside of it. “This’ll fit a cat,” I say, determination powering me on as I slide the pack onto my shoulders.
I shut the passenger door, rush over to the side of the building, and crane my neck. Steven’s on the second floor. That balcony is about ten feet high. There’s a cat door right over there. I’m limber. I can wiggle into it and rescue my girl.
There’s no time to waste. I jump.
Um, was that a one-foot jump?
I squat, then push off again, blasting up…a foot and a half.
Why didn’t I pursue gymnastics?
But all I have to do is get a good boost. I pace around the parking lot, hunting for anything. A chair. A table. A suitcase.
Yes, a suitcase!
I rush back to my car, pop the trunk, and grab my carry-on, hauling it back to beneath the balcony. I step up on it and try again.
And I’m still a foot away.
I hunt through the lot, spotting a…garden gnome by a storage shed.
Desperate times…I grab the red and green dude that’s about a foot wide and rush back. I set it on its side on the suitcase and climb my makeshift step stool under the balcony.
I jump again. My arm gets maybe a foot away from my goal.
Okay, almost there. That’s half a foot. I need a bit more boost.
Books!
Back to the car. I yank open the backseat door, grab several paperbacks my book club friends gave me, and run.
“It’s for a good cause,” I tell the books, then I spread them on top of the suitcase, set the gnome on its side on the books, and step onto its red concrete ass.
I give it everything I’ve got.
And a few seconds later, I’m dangling from the balcony by one arm.
2
SAVE THE CAT
Rhys
