Cattitude (15 page)

“That’s enough,” Max snapped. “There’s
something you should know. In eleven days I’m leaving and traveling
around the world. I’ll be gone a year, maybe two.”

Belle stopped eating, her breath stuck in her
throat.

Rose staggered back two steps, a hand over
her left breast. “What?” she gasped out.

“I’ve kept my promise to Dad. The kids are in
their twenties and on their own. They—”

“They certainly are not! Tory can’t get a job
as a walk-on. And Ted—” She pointed at Ted, her hand shaking.
“Ted’s a bartender living on tips.”

“Good tips,” Ted said.

Belle breathed again. She didn’t say anything
but she stared at Max, a voice in her head shouting
Nooooooo!
You can’t go away
.

“I’ll continue to take care of the
investments for the company and in your names. I’m also putting a
lump sum into Tory’s bank account that should last at least a
year,” he said. “As for Ted, you’ll be happy to know he’s taking
over the real estate side of the business.”

Rose’s lips quivered. “What about me?” she
asked, her voice small and thin.

Belle sniffed. Rose always thought of herself
above others. Though Belle agreed with that attitude in regard to
herself, Rose was the mother of Max, Ted and Tory. Shouldn’t she
think of them first? Besides, Rose was human, not a cat.

Another reason to want her cat body back.
When she had babies some day, they wouldn’t need her time and
attention for years and years.

“I’m giving you a lump sum too, but you don’t
have to worry.” Max’s mouth curled down on one side. A smile with
no warmth. A winter smile. “If you need financial help, I can
transfer funds into your bank account no matter where I am.”

“Your father would want you to stay.”

Belle grabbed the table edge to keep herself
from running to Max, throwing herself on his chest and demanding he
stay.

He had to stay. He was her human.

But she couldn’t tell him not to go. Everyone
had to do what they chose. Even if they should be staying home and
taking care of her.

“Dad would want Max to live his own life.”
All trace of laughter fled Ted’s face.

“What do you know? You were only four when he
died. I was his wife.” Rose faced Belle, her arms stiff at her
sides, her mouth distorted. “You! It’s your fault. He’s doing this
because of you.”

“That’s enough.” Max stepped in front of
Belle, shielding her from his mother. “I want you to leave.”

“Max. You can’t—”

“Right now. You’re hysterical and you’re
rude.”

Gasping, she twirled. Her coat spread around
her legs and she scuttled out the door, making little crying
noises.

“Shit,” Ted said.

Max’s face looked like a rock. “I knew she
wouldn’t take it well.”

Belle nodded. Rose deserved to be scratched,
but if she had scratched Rose, Max would have been angry.

Humans were funny that way.

“Don’t worry.” Max nodded at her, putting
distance between them. “I’ll make sure you’re taken care of
too.”

She looked away from him. She wasn’t worried
about him or anyone else taking care of her. Her sadness came from
the black hole growing inside of her when she thought of him
leaving.

She turned to Ted. Later she’d think about
Max leaving. “Are you going to teach me to read?”

He opened the book on top of one of her
discarded ice cream sandwich wrappers. She remembered what Rose
said and grabbed the wrappers.

“Should I put this somewhere?”

“The trash goes under the sink.” Max stopped
beneath the arch leading to the hall. “The tuna can goes into the
recyclable bin in the garage. Ted will show you.”

Ted stood. “I’m in charge of garbage
too?”

Max laughed but there wasn’t any humor in his
voice as he strode from the kitchen.

Ted showed Belle how to rinse out the can,
then took her into the garage to show her the green bin in the
corner. “Bonnie already did dishes, but the next time we have a
load I’ll show you how to use the dishwasher.”

Speechless, Belle stared at him. Cats didn’t
do dishes. Cats didn’t take out garbage. Cats did whatever they
wanted.

She didn’t like being human. Not one bit.

Except, perhaps... She marched back into the
kitchen, straight for the freezer, and took out an ice cream
sandwich. Ice cream and tuna. She held back a human-sized purr.

“Get one for me too,” Ted said, “and I’ll
teach you how to read.”

She nodded at Ted. Even without Max, she
would be fine. She still had her home, with or without Max living
in it, and nothing was going to make her leave. Nothing.

But despite her thoughts, a small ache formed
in her chest and she hesitated over the wrapped chocolate and ice
cream sandwiches, not hungry anymore, the air from the open freezer
cold on her skin and her open eyes. And inside, the small ache grew
cold too.

***

Raindrops plopped on Gwen’s head and she
leaned forward to protect the kitty on her lap. “I don’t care about
the rain. But if I don’t go inside, Katie will come out after
me.”

The cat stared at her with her big green
eyes. As if it understood every word Gwen said.

“I don’t think cats like rain. You wanna go
inside? I’ll make sure Katie doesn’t find you.”

The cat still gazed at her, unblinking,
trusting. Gwen’s heart felt as if a balloon was blowing up inside
it, making it bigger and bigger and bigger. “I love you,” she
whispered.

The cat rubbed the side of her face against
Gwen’s arm. Then the rain pelted down harder, like wet bullets, and
the cat was getting splattered even though Gwen bent over her. She
stood, holding the kitty as if it were something precious,
something more special than all her mother’s jewelry.

Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled like
the sky was angry. The clouds thickened, blocking out the sun. On
the second floor, a light flicked on in Katie’s sitting room. Good,
she wasn’t studying in the kitchen. Easier to sneak the kitty into
the house.

For once, Gwen didn’t mind having a nanny who
ignored her. For once, it was a good thing.

Twenty minutes later, she was in her own
room, changed into dry clothes. She sat on the bed and scratched
the cat’s ear. It rolled over on her bedspread, showing its
belly.

“You’re a girl,” Gwen said, petting the soft
belly and chest, feeling tiny nipples. “What should I name you?”
She frowned. What would she want to be named if she was a cat? Then
she knew. She’d read a book where a father called his daughter
Princess. Not like her own father, who she saw in ten-minute
snatches about four times a year.

The cat meowed. Gwen realized she’d stopped
petting her, and she started again, her hand sliding down the
fur-covered belly. “Princess. How do you like that name?”

This meow had a different sound, as if the
cat laughed.

The next second the cat twisted to her feet,
leapt off the bed and scampered under it. “Where—”

The bedroom door opened. “Who are you talking
to?” Katie demanded.

Gwen put on her most innocent face.
“Myself.”

“Just so you don’t start answering. Then
you’ll be in trouble.” Katie hooted at her own humor, but her gaze
darted around the room. As if she
knew
, Gwen thought.

Gwen grabbed her laptop from the table next
to her bed. No way could Katie know. She was probably checking to
see if Gwen had snuck in a rock band or something. Like that was
going to happen.

The screen powered on and Katie frowned at
it.

“Is your homework done?” Katie asked.

“I’m doing it now,” Gwen said. Inside her
head, she screamed at herself.
Stupid! Stupid!
What if Katie
wanted to see what she was doing?

Katie opened her mouth. Her nose wrinkled,
her forehead crinkled and a giant sneeze whooshed out. And another.
And another.

“Has Bonnie been dusting in here?” She
stepped into the room and ran her fingertip along the top of Gwen’s
dresser. She let go of her nose and glared at her dust-free finger.
She sneezed twice as she backed into the hall. “You don’t have any
of those plug-in fresheners, do you?”

“No!” Gwen said. As if she’d spend her money
for air fresheners when she could spend it on cat treats and cat
toys.

“Something is making me sneeze. If you run
into any questions, you come to my room. Remember, no TV until your
homework is done.” Not waiting for a reply, Katie closed the door
behind her.

Gwen exhaled, her shoulders relaxing. The cat
crawled out from under the bed and hopped back up next to Gwen, her
ears perked and her head cocked. Gwen patted her lap, but the cat
lay at the foot of the bed, staring at the door.

The lit laptop monitor drew Gwen’s attention.
She double-clicked on her word program. It opened, and she clicked
on her journal and typed.

I found a cat and named her Princess. I love
her, and I know she’ll love me. I’m the luckiest girl in the
world!

Caroline model-walked through the upscale
hotel bar decorated in granite and bamboo. From the corners of her
eyes, she saw men shift to follow her movements, their gazes
traveling over her body. She held her head high, pheromones
sparking from her skin like invisible fireflies. She wasn’t the
most sexual woman in the world, but she had her needs.

Why shouldn’t she feed them? It wasn’t likely
any of Max’s friends would see her and report to him.

Besides, she was hungry. A hunger that gnawed
at the base of her throat and the pit of her belly. She could’ve
picked up Chinese takeout or had a pizza delivered, but she wanted
something more tonight. Something better. Something richer.
Something that would prove she was still beautiful and desirable
and didn’t have to worry that she soon might not have money to pay
her rent.

A woman who wasn’t bordering on the edge of
poverty.

For this to happen, something had gone wrong
in the world.

It was hell to be a woman with a takeout
budget and a lobster appetite.

And Max...he’d said he was leaving. She
couldn’t allow that and would think of something to stop him. But
for now, she needed to take care of herself. It was impossible to
think when the hunger stuck its claws into her belly and threatened
to swallow her whole.

Sitting on a bar stool, she glimpsed her
gleaming reflection in the tinted glass behind the bar. Blond and
slender and nearly perfect. An image of a woman who deserved
lobster.

In a snap, the bartender stood across the bar
from her front, adoration softening his expression. He was cute
with curly hair and white teeth and wide shoulders, but though his
admiration was sweet enough to gobble up like her favorite Swiss
chocolate, she smiled politely and ordered an appletini. Tonight
she wasn’t looking for cute, tonight she was looking for rich.

The gnawing in her belly was driving her,
whipping her hard.

She glanced at her reflection again and
caught movement behind her, a silver-haired man striding to the
bar. He pulled a ring off his finger and slipped it into his pants
pocket before he took the stool next to her. She didn’t turn but
kept her gaze on his wavy image. Short hair, tall and fit, a gleam
of gold on his wrist and a look about him that whispered her
favorite word.
Money
.

Her skin warmed, her pheromones flared.

The gnawing in her belly subsided and she
turned to him with a smile.

Tonight she would have lobster.

And perhaps, if he told her how lovely she
was enough times, another hunger would be satisfied.

Max would never know.

***

Sorcha curled up against Gwen’s side, letting
herself be petted. She was warm, fed...and loved. It was a tangible
thing, the love this gangly, big-eared girl was giving her in
whispers, in giggles, in petting, in kisses. Like a starving child
at a table weighted down with food, she couldn’t get enough of
Sorcha.

And all she wanted in return was for Sorcha
to be there.

Even Fletcher, the only man who considered
her talents a gift instead of a curse, used her talents for his
benefit. People had thought she was crazy to stay with him, that
she hadn’t known what he was. Of course, she’d known. Love never
blinded her, it just made her look the other way.

Outside the bedroom window, a bolt of
lightning lasered a bright path through the dark night. Inside, a
bolt of grief stormed through Sorcha’s mind.

Fletcher was dead. She would never see him
again.

She meowed plaintively.

“Is something the matter?” Gwen bent her head
and nuzzled her nose in Sorcha’s neck, then kissed the top of her
head. “I wish I knew what you were saying. Then I could make it all
better.”

A purr hummed from Sorcha’s throat, her small
body reverberating with it.

This wasn’t right. She was a human, for God’s
sake, not really a cat. What had happened to her and the cat wasn’t
possible. It was against...well,
everything
.

But just for tonight she would succumb. Just
for tonight she would let herself be a cat.

And tomorrow? Tomorrow she’d cast aside her
fears and do something to fix it. Because that’s what humans
did.

***

Thunder boomed and the ground cracked. Belle
glanced up from her book in time to see a flash of light in the
darkness outside the window. She thought of Sorcha and frowned. Why
hadn’t Sorcha come to her? She’d walked outside for hours calling
Sorcha’s name. Max had walked early this morning and in the evening
calling Belle’s name. He’d phoned the Sheriff Department and the
humane society in the morning and after dinner again. No one had
found a gray cat about four years old—dead or alive.

Belle hoped Sorcha was safe.

She hoped Sorcha was dry.