Cattitude (21 page)

Ted laughed. So did the guy with the
vodka.

“You two brothers?” he asked. “My brother and
I used to talk that way. ‘Course, he’s dead now.” He sniffed and
looked down at his drink again.

Ted’s lips quirked, laughter sparking in his
eyes. Max gave Ted the glare he’d been using to quell him for the
last twenty years.

“Sorry about your brother,” Max said, and
turned back to Ted. “He’s a phony. He was drooling over Tory, for
Christ’s sake.”

“Well, yeah, he was going out with her.”

“Not the punk from high school.” Max gritted
his teeth. “Phil what’s-his-name. Sorcha’s supposed fiancé.”

Ted wiped a wet ring off the bar top. “A man
can be taken but still look.”

“I look,” the guy with the vodka said. “I
look a lot.”

“Jesus,” Max said under his breath.

One of the women called to Ted for a refill.
Ted grabbed a bottle of Zinfandel and stepped down, his leer
telling Max they were good looking.

“I think you like her.” Vodka guy nodded like
he was Isaac Newton discovering gravity. “I think you like her a
lot.”

Max glanced at him. Vodka guy grinned
crookedly, his moroseness melted away. Max gulped down his beer
from the bottle, finishing it. Time to leave when drunks could tell
he had a hard-on for Sorcha like a teenage boy.

She was arrogant and lazy, qualities he’d
never admired in a woman or a man. Okay, she also searched hours
every day for his cat and made him laugh. That he admired. She
didn’t give a damn what anyone thought of her—and she didn’t cling.
As vodka guy would say, he liked that a lot.

But that didn’t explain the way he felt when
he was near her. She was special. He’d never met another woman like
her and feared he never would again. Every day his attraction to
her grew stronger and harder. As though she touched something deep
inside of him. Something primal and necessary.

And when she was near, he heated from the
inside out, wanting to slide his hand under her blouse, over the
smoothness of her skin. He wanted to kiss the curve of her neck
that joined with her shoulder, to inhale her honey scent. He wanted
to lick her skin and see if that tasted like honey too. He wanted
to hear her breathing quicken. He wanted to—

“Another beer?” Ted asked.

Max thumped the bottle on the bar and stood.
What the hell was he thinking? After seeing her naked, any straight
man from eighteen to eighty would think about her and feel
primal.

“Better not. I’ve got a long drive
ahead.”

“You leaving?” Ted glanced toward the end of
the bar. The brunette waved at him.

“Don’t miss me too much,” Max said.

Vodka guy guffawed. Max nodded his goodbye
and started off.

“Hey!” Ted’s shout stopped him.

Max turned but didn’t go back. “Yeah?”

“I almost forgot. I found Sorcha’s
parents.”

“What search engine did you use? I couldn’t
find anything.”

Ted’s grin showed his white teeth. “It’s
called the Milwaukee phone book. I got in a few minutes early,
looked up Anders, made a few calls and on the fifth I hit the
jackpot. Her father said they were going to church tonight and to
stop off tomorrow morning.” He scratched the top of his head, his
hair ruffling. “I didn’t get a chance to tell him she’s safe with
us. Just asked if he was Sorcha’s father, and he was inviting me to
his home as if he was expecting my call. Hell, maybe he’s psychic
too. I’ll drive over tomorrow.”

“No,” Max said. “
We’ll
drive over.” He
gave a firm nod, then strode out. First a fiancé, and now parents.
She’d be out of his house soon, his Eve, his Delilah, his Siren. He
had his plans mapped out for him, his freedom only nine days away.
He wasn’t going to give it away for a pretty face and a body he
wanted to bury himself in.

This wasn’t love, it couldn’t be. Just
normal, everyday lust. When he was ready, love would come. And he
wasn’t ready now.

***

“You don’t think Phil’s cute?”

Her hand in the bowl of popcorn, Belle looked
at Tory curled on the other end of the sofa, her legs curled
beneath her butt, a dreamy expression on her face. On the TV
screen, men and women were eating bugs and making faces. Belle
didn’t know what the fuss was about, although she never ate bugs
herself. She just batted them around until she tired of the game or
they died.

Mice, now... That she’d eaten. Well, chewed a
bit.

Ice cream was better.

“I think Phil’s...” She frowned, trying to
think of something cutting to say. “Like a dog.”

“Oooh, dogs are cute.”

“Dogs are stupid.”

Tory sat up. “If Phil was stupid, you’d never
have gotten engaged to him.”

“I’m
not
engaged.”

“You’ve got the ring.” Tory’s nose wrinkled.
“Even if you’re not wearing it.”

Belle pulled out a handful of popcorn and
shoved it into her mouth. When she was eating, no one expected her
to answer questions. Tory talked to her much more than Max or Ted,
asking what she felt and thought about everything. Belle wasn’t
sure if she liked it.

“Maybe you don’t think Phil’s cute because
you think someone else is cuter.” Tory slanted her head closer to
Belle’s, the corners of her lips curling up. “So, who do you think
is cuter? Max or Ted?”

Belle spat out kernels of popcorn.

Tory fell back laughing. “I knew it! I just
knew it. You like one of my brothers.”

Belle wiped her mouth with the back of her
hand, then brushed the kernels off her slacks, another pair of
Tory’s.

“Which one?” Tory pushed up on her knees,
facing Belle. “C’mon, you can tell me.”

“I like them both.” That was true. She’d
always liked Ted. But Max was her chosen companion. The one she
preferred to sleep with and play with and live with. The one she
chose to feed, shelter and pet her.

Her body had changed, but that remained the
same. Well, not exactly the same. Not
everything.
Now,
though it was a very, very, very bad idea, she wanted him to pet
her differently. Like a woman with a man.

When she was with Ted, she didn’t want Ted to
pet her like a woman.

Was this feeling what humans called love?

She glanced out the window into blackness and
saw her reflection, No,
Sorcha’s
reflection.

Sorcha, where are you? Hurry up, so we can
change bodies. I think I’m getting into trouble.

Cats and humans weren’t supposed to do what
this human body wanted to do with Max. The thought wiggled into her
mind that if she did
that
with him—“made love,” they called
it on
The Love Chronicles
—that might trigger something and
make her stay human forever.

But what if she were wrong? What if she could
make love with Max and still be a cat again? Should she take that
chance?

“You’re no fun.” Tory shifted, her reflection
joining Belle’s.

Blinking, Belle grabbed another handful of
popcorn. “Do I have to like one or the other?”

“You’re pretty and they’re good looking.
You’re living in the same house.” Tory sat back on her butt again.
“It’s like putting a magnet together with two nails.”

Belle knew what magnets were. You put them on
refrigerators. She glanced at her fingernails. What did they have
to do with magnets?

“My girlfriends were always gooey over my
brothers.” Tory made a face. “They used to make up excuses to come
here. It drove Max crazy.”

Belle had never liked Tory’s girlfriends. She
chewed her popcorn.

“I think it’s Max,” Tory said.

This time Belle swallowed her popcorn instead
of spitting it out. Another lesson learned. Don’t spit food.

But would it hurt to tell Tory just a little?
When she was a cat, she used to meow and meow and meow, and they’d
pet her or give her a treat. Or laugh and wonder aloud what she was
saying. No one understood her. This chance to explain her feelings
and thoughts might be her last.

“I don’t like Max.” She bit her lower lip,
then the next three words poured out, “I love him.”

Tory’s breath puffed out of her mouth, and
she sat back against the couch cushion, her eyes flared wide.
“Love? He’s leaving in a week and a half. Do you want to go with
him?”

A chill invaded Belle’s bones, and she
crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ll never leave.” People kept
talking about her leaving. This was her home and people shouldn’t
leave their homes.

Tory shook her head. “Max has made up his
mind. Once he decides something, it’s as good as done. He’s like...
I don’t know, a rock. He can roll, but he’ll still be a rock. You
know what I mean?”

“No.” Rocks were rocks. Humans were humans.
Except when they were cats. Belle unwrapped her arms and reached
for the bowl.

“Honey,” Tory touched the hand Belle was
digging into the popcorn, “if you think you can change Max’s mind,
you’re going to be hurt.”

Belle stared at Tory’s hand on hers. If she
were in her cat body, she’d hiss at Tory for touching her when she
was eating. But she was human—for now—and she just pulled her
handful of popcorn out of the bowl. “I won’t try to change Max’s
mind. He has to do whatever he wants to do.”

Tory shook her head. “Honest to God, you’re
like no woman I ever knew.”

Chewing her popcorn, Belle nodded. She was
like no woman at all.

***

Sorcha huddled beneath the bushes by the
oversized house, waiting for Gwen. For two days and one night she
had survived in the woods. But despite the fur coat and a blanket
of damp leaves, she’d shivered all through the interminable, dark
hours of the night, snatching moments of sleep before the cold woke
her again. Or maybe it was her empty stomach that wouldn’t let her
sleep, needing to be filled. Yesterday, she’d seen a gopher and for
an instant her muscles had bunched, as if she were going to pounce
on the small animal.

Then she’d come to her senses. Her
human
senses that said killing and eating small animals was
icky. Her cat senses argued that if she gave it a try, eating small
animals might be a culinary treat. But if she did that, she’d be as
evil as her mother and father always said she was.

She lay back on the cold ground and tried to
nap, but hunger gnawed at her, keeping her awake.

A tiny sound made her ears perk up. An
instant later, the door opened. “Princess,” Gwen called softly.
“Princess, where are you?”

Sorcha meowed and leapt toward the light and
warmth and one coltish girl who held out her arms. Gwen beamed so
widely all her teeth showed, happiness radiating from every
pore.

“You came back,” she whispered, hugging
Sorcha to her slight chest. “Oh, I missed you so much.”

A purr rumbled out of Sorcha’s throat, and
she rubbed the side of her mouth against Gwen’s chin. Tears
splashed down Gwen’s face onto the top of Sorcha’s head.

“I love you,” Gwen said.

Sorcha purred harder. This was what she
always wanted—to be loved. But not as a cat—as a human.

This was wrong, so wrong.

Her father and mother were right. She was
going to hell for sure, because now that she was wrapped in Gwen’s
arms and Gwen’s love, she didn’t know if she could force herself to
leave again.

To: Phil Patterson

From: Mike and Jody

Subject: re: money

we got the check in today’s mail. as soon as
i read the note, i went to my email. it’s been a couple days since
i checked. had a few problems but i’m okay for now.

what the hell are you doing that bob gave
you 25k? and you’re expecting more? if he wants you to kill his
father so he can inherit everything, go for it—ha ha, just kidding.
but the man is a #1 dickhead.

i got one thing to say about you working for
your brother. GET ANYTHING HE SAYS IN WRITING. and don’t turn your
back on him. it hurts your mom that he still blames her for leaving
him. she wanted to take him but dickhead wouldn’t let her. bob
knows that too. i think he enjoys acting like the little boy left
behind. i know he was only 12, but that was 26 years ago. man up.
get over it.

lucy’s been moping ever since we put desi to
sleep. when I go to heaven, i’m gonna ask god why dogs have to die
young. Dad

To: Mike and Judy

From: Phil Patterson

Subject: re: brother

Don’t worry about Bob. He won’t back out.
Desi was the best. I miss him too. Let me know when you’re having
the operation. I’ll try to get back for it.

Phil

To: Phil Patterson

From: Mike and Judy

Subject: re: money

>Don’t worry about Bob. He won’t back
out.>

worry. you know how those rich bastards are.
they’ll stab you in the back as soon as look at you, and he and his
dad are the worst of the bunch.

hey, i was just kidding about killing bob’s
father. i’m telling you this, because the more i think about it, i
can’t think of anything else he’d pay you this much money to do. if
he asks, tell him no. i’d rather die than my son be a murderer.

i made an appointment with mom’s surgeon.
she goes first, then me. she says she loves you and you should
call. Dad

Phil bent over his laptop on top of the
square table in his motel room. Tears burned his eyes and pain
burned his stomach.

He didn’t know what to do now that he’d met
Sorcha. He couldn’t see her murder a boyfriend, he couldn’t see her
connive to blackmail Bob, he couldn’t see her killing his niece and
nephew.

It wasn’t that she was sweet. Tory was sweet,
strawberry sweet. Sorcha was the opposite, suspicious and
glowering. But she was honest and open in her aversion to him, not
bothering to hide it. She presented no mask at all that he could
see. One of the few “what you see is what you get” people.