“And you’re not going to become Charlemagne’s person,” Heath assured me, though Ben looked doubtful.“Cherry’s got a list of folks to call, starting with thoseLadies Who Lunchactresses traveling with him.We checked in with the Moons and Carmel said they’d gone to Augusta last night for an appearance at a fan convention early today and should be back late this afternoon.We just need somewhere for the cat to be until then,” he added with false cheer.
Ben nudged my cup of gunpowder tea closer to my hand.“They were able to get a lot of cat supplies from the boat,” he offered.“Food, toys—”
“He’s apparently toilet trained,” Heath added wryly.“There’s a little potty seat for him and everything.”
“Are you freaking serious?”I muttered, lowering my head to peer in at the cat again.I couldn’t make out his coloring, just that he had a pale nose pressed to the mesh and his eyes werehuge.A few white whiskers poked through the holes in the fabric as he sniffed back at Muffin.
“He’s got a wardrobe, too.”
I glared at Heath.“You say that like it should be the dealmaker.”Okay it was kind of cute, honestly.I’d always thought those little pet outfits were adorable and had even tried to get a t-shirt on Muffin back in August but he’d been so disappointed in me that I never tried again.
Ben scooped up Tony, who’d woken with a snort and grunt, and set him on his lap.“If it’s for a few days, it should be fine.I won’t mind—I’ll be in Boston starting tomorrow night anyway.Tony’s never had a problem with cats.”He paused and we all looked at Muffin.He was so excited, he was dancing in place making little happy snuffle noises.“And I think Muffin might be okay with him...”
“But is he okay with Muffin?”I muttered, gingerly pressing my fingers against the mesh.The cat—Charlemagne, I remembered—sniffed my finger and made that littleewsound again.Heath’s radio fizzed and beeped, and Ben raised an expectant brow at me.Finally, I sighed and nodded.“Fine.A few days.We’ll set him up in the bathroom or something.How the hell is a cat potty trained?”
***
THE FIRST PROBLEM CAMEright after Heath left.“Ben, there’s something wrong with this cat.It’s naked.”
“Hence the sweaters.”
Charlemagne was a tuxedo-colored little goblin, all wrinkles and bare skin in a black and white pattern that just screamed for fluffy fur and a swishy tail.Instead, he sat in his open carrier and stared at me, waiting for...something, Probably Tubbs.The bag Heath had brought from the boat included an open container of very bougie cat kibble (any dry cat food that came in a metal cannister was automatically bougie) and several tins of wet food with names like Prawn Mousse with Lobster Consommé and Chicken Heart Reduction with Giblet Filets.
Honestly...that could also be on the menu at a few very chichi places in New York and LA.
Which had me questioning some of the people I knew back in LA.
The worst part was the potty seat.Ben googled the thing while I gingerly held it with dish glove-clad hands and Charlemagne sat on the bathroom floor, staring into my soul.Sorted and with both of us questioning how our various life choices had led us to this moment, we left Charlemagne to his morning needs.
“He’s just here for a day or two,” I said, even though I suspected that was a lie.“Don’t go getting googly eyes over him, okay?”
Ben rustled through the plastic bag, producing several half-chewed cloth mice, a sparkly, new-looking catnip lobster, and a mostly used up tube of something calledSally’s Slippy.
“It’s a lotion,” he said, internet skills in peak form while I squinted at the back of the tube, trying to read the ingredients.“Small business in Oregon, makes all-natural lotions, creams, and salves for pets and people.That one is for dry skin, named after the business owner’s Sphynx cat.”He muttered, reading the rest of the ad copy.“Sounds like a bunch of hogwash but it’s mostly neutral oils, it looks like.There’s also a bottle of soap and a spray cleaner in the bag.”
“I thought cats were self-cleaning.”
“Technically, they just cover themselves in cat spit.I don’t think that’s the same.”
“Oh, ew...”
Ben snorted softly.“What do you think dogs do?”
“Sure as hell don’t cover themselves in cat spit,” I shot back smartly, both of us pretending not to smile.After making sure the cat had food and water tucked in the little space under the sink, I shut him in the bathroom for the time being.Muffin whimpered.“Dude.You just met him.Have some self-respect.”
The big doofus just shot me a baleful glare and settled in front of the door, peering under the gap in the hopes of seeing his new bestie.
Ben, chuckling, retreated to his office and I went to find somewhere to stow the cat supplies ‘temporarily.’
I know how my luck runs.I’d just gotten a cat.
Shoving the empty plastic bag into the little cloth tube thingy Ben kept on the pantry door, I started to chuck the handful of crumpled receipts into the trash but paused.
Yeah, it was an accident but...Well.I’m nosy, okay?It’s one of my best (cough) traits.
And all my nosiness earned was the knowledge Tubbs ate alotof fast food on the trip from New York, and his car was due for an oil change.A few no-name type receipts, just the amount, date, and a line denoting it was a customer copy, were left, and a scrap of paper that looked like it’d been torn off a menu for a place called something or someone’s Vegan Shack of Love and Fries.
“He wasn’t a vegetarian,” I muttered over Muffin’s whines at the bathroom door.“He ate lobster rolls at the cocktail party...”
