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He knew from her sly grin, from the quirk of her brow, she was making that up. “It’s Australian slang for underwear,” he said. “They call them scungies.”
She slapped his arm. “It is not.” She thought about it, brow furrowed. “Is it?”
He nodded. He’d looked it up.
“Holy shit.” She flapped her hands to her sides. “I’m too trusting.”
It would be amusing if he weren’t already bleeding out inside.
“You’re not coming up, are you?” she asked.
“No. We both have to get up for work in the morning. And you have a briefing to study.” He was never going up to her apartment because if he did, he might never want to leave.
“I’ve got it. I have a little shopping to do.”
“I’ll send a car for you and your fur friend. We’ll leave from the office.” After that administrivia, his next line was supposed to be goodnight.
“It’s still early, are you sure you won’t come up?”
She looked so hopeful it jolted him. “It’s late.” That wasn’t even a good excuse. He brought the hand he was holding to his lips, a light kiss, and then he let go.
She dropped her eyes to her hand and then flicked them up to his face, disenchanted. It was nothing like she would look if she knew the truth.
“Goodnight.” He got it out finally because it had to be said and watched her fumble her entry code before pushing the door open and going inside.
He went to the curb and hailed a cab. He was a master con everywhere but where he wanted to be straight up, and for the first time since his wild and reckless youth, he had no idea what he was doing because the con was on him.
He focused on the job for the rest of the week. Tried not to stare off into the distance wondering what Fin was doing while he was bogged down in boring administration. He was in a meeting with Zeke and Mom about wine, dinosaur bones, and Halsey’s birthday, when she arrived on Friday. It had to be Fin.
They heard it a room away. An unearthly yowl. Everyone looked at him.
“Why is it you think I know what’s going on out there?”
“It’s your job,” said Mom.
“I think we’re done here,” said Zeke. They all went to reception where Camille was staring into an animal carrier and Fin was wearing an absolutely rocking pair of skin-tight, black pants and an expression of annoyance.
Zeke bent to investigate and then recoiled. “Jesus, what is that?”
“Exactly,” said Camille.
“You said someone would mind him,” Fin said, glaring at Cal. She looked ready to stamp her feet.
He peered into the carrier and suppressed the urge to do what Camille and Zeke had done. “This is Scungy?” The cat started up a low wail that put a chill up his spine.
“He doesn’t like being in the carrier, and he got motion sick in the car. It’s not his fault he smells bad,” Fin said.
He did stink, and he was the ugliest animal Cal had ever seen. One eye was sewn shut. One ear was mangled. His lip was split and healed but unevenly, so a fang showed. The cat hissed and Cal flinched. “What happened to him?”
“I don’t know. He had a hard life. I got him like that.”
“You chose that cat?” said Zeke, incredulous.
“Does he bite? He looks like he bites,” said Camille. “What did you say he was called?”
“Scungy,” Fin and Cal said together. The name suited him. “It means heroic,” Fin finished, daring Cal to correct her with a sharp look.
“Why is he here?” Zeke said.
