The Purrfect Reporter (The Crazy Cat Lady Club #2)

Ch. 1 – Jax

T he cat was about to lose all nine of its misbegotten lives.

Jax stared death lasers at Styles as the foul creature perched on the small dining room table, his paw hovering menacingly over the ceramic Peppa Pig saltshaker. Jax had triumphantly discovered the matching salt and pepper shakers in the deepest recesses of the local antique shop last year.

“Leave Peppa out of this,” Jax warned the Bengal kitten. “This is between you and me.”

The past month had quickly spiraled into an unrelenting war of wills between her and the spotted spawn of Satan. The pungent smell of cat piss now choked the air, a fragrance Styles dutifully reapplied to the corners of the apartment on a daily basis. Sleep was a distant memory. Styles, it turned out, possessed an affinity for nightly howling of operatic proportions. And then there was the ever-growing tally of his victims. The curtains. The legs of the couch. The tassel on Jax’s messenger bag.

And now, Peppa was under dire threat .

Styles looked at Jax with devious green eyes, then glanced back down to Peppa. He gave the saltshaker a gentle swat with his paw, pushing it to the lip of the table.

“Don’t . . .” Jax hissed. “You . . . Da—”

Swat .

The saltshaker plummeted from the table and shattered on the cheap linoleum floor.

“—re” Jax finished.

She ground her teeth as she stomped toward the cat. Styles, recognizing the oncoming threat to his life, wisely leaped from the table and zipped through the living room. He disappeared around Jax’s bedroom door, which she’d foolishly left open.

As she gazed at the shards of Peppa’s corpse, Jax contemplated leaving the front door of the apartment open the next time she left for school. The cat might accidentally wander out. Whoops. Surely some good Samaritan would spot the creature and bring him to the local animal rescue. A rare Bengal kitten like Styles would get adopted in a snap. Then the manic feline could be some other poor sap’s problem.

But she’d made a promise.

“Why the fuck did you do this to me, Haley?” Jax whispered under her breath as she tromped to the small pantry and retrieved the hand broom and dustpan.

Haley had begged Jax to take care of Styles just before she’d pulled her flower-patterned suitcase out the front door a month ago, headed to the expensive rehab clinic her parents had insisted on.

Jax lowered herself to her knees in front of the pile of disgorged salt. How could she refuse her roommate and best friend? Not after Haley’s scary-as-hell overdose that day at the winery. If Haley had died, Jax’s soul would have looked like the jagged pieces of Peppa scattered across the floor. So, Jax had promised. She’d take care of the kitten while Haley got better.

With short, angry strokes, Jax brushed the jumble of ceramic pieces and salt crystals into the dustpan. She paused as a thought hit her. She was sweeping up after Haley’s mistakes . . .literally. Jax sat back on her heels with a short, bitter laugh. Story of my life, she thought.

And yet, she missed her roommate. Without the 24/7 reality show that was Haley Butterman, Jax’s life felt almost . . . empty. Haley was a brilliant, golden-haired sun, pulling everyone into her orbit, Jax most of all. Even as their friendship strained and groaned beneath the increasing pressure of Haley’s shit life choices of late, it’d always held.

Jax stood and pressed the pedal on the bottom of the garbage can a little too hard. The lid flipped up and nearly smacked the wall. She would help Haley. She would take care of the demonic cat. She tilted the dustpan, giving Peppa an ignoble send-off.

The lid of the polished metal can flipped down, giving Jax a look at her blurry reflection. Clouds of dark hair surrounded a pale, oval face. Amber eyes stared back at her.

“I’m strong,” Jax whispered to herself.

If only it were true.

The doorbell rang.

Right. Jax wasn’t alone. Not really. She’d recently made some . . .rather interesting new acquaintances.

Crossing the living room, Jax opened the front door.

“Cat Rescue Squad reporting for duty!” announced her first visitor, marching into the apartment. “Oh, that smell. Wow. That’s bad. Thank the Lord we’re here.”

Everly Forstrom was a firecracker wrapped in a bright pink cat-print blouse. White embroidered paw prints marched down the legs of her shapely jeans, and cat-shaped clips held back her short afro .

“Thank you for letting us come by,” said the second visitor, gliding into the apartment on small, graceful steps. With her porcelain skin, huge blue eyes, and long golden braid hanging past her hips, Layla Sandoval seemed to be a live-action Rapunzel. Well, except for the outfit. Instead of a gorgeous princess gown, she wore a pink sequin skirt over white tights with hearts down the legs. A pink furry vest covered her long-sleeved yellow top. Another classic Layla look. The woman’s closet could easily stand in for a retro, highly exuberant thrift store sales rack.

Layla offered a delicate smile as she glanced around the apartment. “This place seems so comfortable.”

“It’s shit,” Jax answered, because blunt and sarcastic were her go-to’s when she felt uncomfortable. And damn , did she feel uncomfortable. These women were practically strangers, but they’d offered to help her with her cat issue.

“Every young person should live in a shit apartment,” Everly pronounced, wandering around the living room. “Builds character. Where’s your remote?”

Jax hated asking for help, but she’d been desperate. So desperate, in fact, that she’d debased herself in a spectacular fashion. She’d . . .

“I’m so happy you joined the Crazy Cat Lady Club,” Layla gushed.

Yeah. That.

“It’s just temporary,” Jax insisted.

“Of course.” Layla’s smile didn’t budge.

It’d been so humiliating to knock on the door of a small house a week ago and admit to a group of five other women that she, Jax Costas, had a problem. That problem possessed four legs, a tail, and a serious pissing issue.

The meeting wasn’t as bad as Jax had anticipated. The Crazy Cat Ladies had been friendly and surprisingly normal. And the several bottles of wine on offer had been a Godsend when it was her turn to share her tale—or tail—of woe. Har, har.

But the fact remained. Jax Costas was NOT a Crazy Cat Lady. More importantly, she really couldn’t get involved with the group. Haley took enough emotional heavy lifting as it was. No way could Jax add the burden of five more people and their complicated issues into her life.

Which was why this Crazy Cat Lady membership was only a short-term necessity. Jax just needed to figure out how to deal with Styles, and then she could quietly ghost the group.

“Ah!” Everly fished a remote from within the couch cushions, brushing crumbs of God-knew-what from it, before pointing it at the TV.

“Everly, we’re here about the cat,” Layla chided her friend. She pulled her long blond braid over her shoulder.

“I can work with the cat and drool all over Rico,” Everly insisted. “I’m multitalented.” She frowned as she glanced at the apps lining the home screen of the smart TV. She turned to Jax. “How do I get to Channel 7?”

Jax quirked an eyebrow. “You mean, like cable? No one does cable anymore. Want me to pull out a rotary phone for you, too?”

“You kids don’t appreciate your roots,” Everly grumbled as she dug her phone out of her pocket. “You should all be forced to own an answering machine to better appreciate your elders.” She tossed the phone to Jax. “Can you set me up on the WiFi? I can stream the news from my phone.”

Jax gave Layla a WTF look.

“She’s got a crush on a local reporter,” the other woman explained .

“A crush?” Everly skewered Layla with a look. “How DARE you diminish what Rico and I have. It’s not a crush. It’s TRUE LOVE handed down from the bowels of the universe.”

“Ew.” Jax handed back the phone. “I wouldn’t want anything that came from the bowels of the universe.”

“You know what I mean.” Everly snatched back the phone.

“It’s just that . . .” Layla trailed off. Her hands clung to her braid.

Everly’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Just what, Layla?”

“Well, um, you’ve never actually met him, so . . . ”

“Yet,” Every snapped, fingers flying across her phone. “I haven’t met him yet. And when I do, it’ll be love at first sight.” She looked at the TV screen, which, after a moment of loading, cut into the middle of an evening news section.

Two perfectly coiffed anchors sat at a desk discussing another beach closure due to water contamination.

Everly seemed to physically deflate.

“He’ll probably be on later,” Layla consoled her friend. “In the meantime, let’s learn more about Styles.”

“Yes! Right. The mission.” Everly perked up immediately. After muting the broadcast, she plopped onto the couch and patted the cushion next to her. It took Jax a moment to recognize her meaning. Tugging at the hem of her fraying T-shirt, Jax took a seat. Alarmingly, Layla promptly claimed the next cushion. Jax was now blocked in by Crazy Cat Ladies.

“The first thing you need to know about Bengal cats is that they have a lot of energy,” Layla began as she adjusted her sequined skirt.

“TONS of energy,” Everly agreed. “Having him in a small apartment isn’t ideal, but you can still make it work. You’ll just have to spend extra time playing with him. ”

“I’d recommend putting a cat tree in here,” Layla continued, looking around the less-than-impressively furnished apartment. “Bengals love to climb.”

“Scratching posts, you’ll need those,” Everly jumped in. “And toys. Where are your cat toys?”

Jax pointed to the floor.

The women stared at a plastic water bottle cap sitting next to the leg of the coffee table.

“He likes to play with that,” Jax muttered, already knowing it was the wrong answer. As if it could possibly help, she added, “Sometimes I kick it and he’ll chase it.”

“That’s . . . the only toy?” Layla’s tone was the vocal equivalent of a wince.

“This is much more serious than we thought,” Everly said to Layla. “I think we need a cat intervention.”

Jax opened her mouth to protest, but Everly cut her off. “I’m going to make you a list of every basic cat supply you need. Then I’m going to put out a distress call to the Crazy Cat Ladies. Between all of us, we should be able to scrounge up a good amount of the supplies. I’ll give you one of my extra cat carriers, and I have lots of toys I can donate.”

“Um, does he really need all that?” Jax asked.

The two women ignored her. “The rest you can get at Pet Palace,” Everly continued. “I work there, so I’ll give you my employee discount. Now, what are you feeding him? How many litter boxes does he have?”

And on the interrogation continued. Jax’s shoulders hunched under the avalanche of cat care information the women piled onto her. As the discussion turned from the proper type of cat brushes to the ideal brand of cat water fountains, Jax retreated from the conversation.

Why had Haley done this to her? Jax had never owned a pet in her life, with the exception of a goldfish at the age of nine. Mr. Bubbles had lasted exactly one month in her care before going belly up. That trauma, coupled with Mom Clarissa’s severe allergies to pet dander, had led Jax to one clear conclusion. Pets were not worth the trouble.

“Uh . . . Everly,” Layla said gently, “I think we might have broken Jax.”

“Oh.” Everly turned on the couch and poked Jax in the shoulder. “You still with us?”

“It’s . . . a lot,” Jax admitted.

“I know it seems that way,” Layla told her, “but we’ll help you with everything. How about we go meet Styles?”

Jax released a heavy breath and nodded. “He’s in my room.”

Temporary, she reminded herself as they headed for her bedroom door. She just had to get through the next two months until Haley returned and Styles became her problem again.

As the women entered the bedroom, prickles of heat rose up the back of Jax’s neck. Why hadn’t she at least attempted to clean her room before having the women over? The sight before them was just plain embarrassing. Despite reaching the age of 22, Jax hadn’t quite gotten the hang of making her bed. More to the point, she’d refused to make her bed so often growing up, as a way to spite Mom Clarissa, that it’d become its own form of a habit. Dirty shirts hung from her bedposts, where they hadn’t quite made the march to her laundry basket, and her heavy black boots sprawled on the floor where she’d kicked them off the night before.

Layla’s smile wavered, but she kindly ignored the state of the room. Kneeling, she peered under the bed. “Ah, there you are, pretty boy. Jax, he’s so handsome. How old?”

“Uh . . . six months, I think?”

Layla looked over her shoulder at Jax. “Bengals can be incredibly affectionate and friendly. They aren’t the best lap cats, but they can grow very attached to their guardians and be wonderful companions.”

“I didn’t know you played tennis,” Everly said behind her.

Jax swiveled and watched with horror as Everly scanned her open closet, petting at the trophies and medals piled in the back.

“Gawd, I think I can fit my head in this trophy. You must be really good.”

“I don’t play anymore,” Jax said curtly.

“Everly, stop snooping!” Layla called to her.

“Oh, wow, you own clothes that aren’t black.” Everly swished through the hangers at the far end of the closet. “And they’re actually your size.”

Jax looked down at her large gray T-shirt and billowy black overalls. She liked large, dark clothes. They felt safe, like she could hide beneath their layers and folds. Why hadn’t she burned all those old clothes? They were too colorful, too frilly, and shamefully revealing.

“Everly.” A touch of sternness entered Layla’s voice. “That’s none of your business. We’re here about the cat.”

“Right. Sorry.” Everly gave Jax a guilty smile. “Just curious.”

Everly went into the living room and returned with a thin, plastic wand in hand. A long string hung from the end of the wand and attached to two large feathers.

“This is our most popular cat toy at Pet Palace,” she told Jax. “My cats love ’em and my foster kitties do, too. What do you think, Styles? I hear you have a lot of pent-up energy.”

Everly slowly dragged the feathers across the carpet next to the bed. In a flash, the spotted kitten raced from the darkness and pounced.

Layla clapped in delight and Everly grinned .

“Come on, Styles,” Everly goaded. “Let’s see what you’ve got.” With a flick of her wrist, the feathers danced through the air. The kitten’s head bobbed as he watched the feathers, then his body transformed into a blur of motion. He leaped, twisted, landed, and scurried after the feathers again.

Jax’s lips arched into a smile until she remembered herself and quashed the expression.

“You’ll need to play with him for at least half an hour a day. Ideally, more,” Layla said, a smile lighting up her gorgeous face. “A lot of his destructive issues are probably due to excess energy or boredom. By giving him positive outlets for that energy, he should be calmer during the day. The scratching posts and cat towers should help with that, too.”

Everly opened her mouth to speak, then froze as she looked through the bedroom door. The feather toy dropped from her hand, and she scampered into the living room. Styles eagerly pounced on the feathers, immediately rolling onto his side, clutching them between his paws.

For a moment, the kitten didn’t seem malevolent at all. Instead, he looked silly, even . . . sweet.

The thought discomforted Jax. She didn’t like cats. Never had. Especially not this one. Pushing her confusing thoughts away, Jax followed Everly into the living room.

“Isn’t he gorgeous?” Everly sighed from the couch, where she’d taken up position.

Jax looked at the face on the screen and couldn’t help but agree. The man speaking into the microphone possessed soul-searing brown eyes, high cheekbones that shouldn’t be legal, and a sensuous mouth that was all kinds of sinful. His suit fit him perfectly, hinting at strong shoulders and a trim waist. A small flame flickered to life deep in the pit of Jax’s stomach and she felt her cheeks heat. The response shocked her.

She hadn’t felt desire since . . .

Her mind cut off that thought ruthlessly. The flame was gone in an instant, snuffed out by a heavy darkness. She looked away from the screen as the reporter spoke in a velvet voice.

“Well?” Everly demanded.

“Well, what?” Jax struggled to focus.

“Isn’t he gorgeous?” Everly repeated.

Without daring to look at the screen again, Jax shrugged. “He’s not bad.” Her hand dug into the pocket of her overalls, and she pulled out a lollipop.

“Not bad?” Everly was aghast. “Rico Torres is the most handsome man who has ever walked the earth. True fact!”

“He’s actually from Yucca Hills,” Layla said from the door of Jax’s bedroom. Styles lounged contentedly in her arms. The woman really was a Disney princess. Styles had never even let Jax pet him.

“He was a year ahead of me in high school,” Layla continued.

“Don’t even start,” Everly warned. The screen switched to a commercial, and she immediately looked bored.

“I’m just saying that he was a little . . .” Layla seemed to struggle with her next words. “Well, a little self-centered is all.”

“He’s changed,” Everly retorted. “I’m sure of it. And if he hasn’t, I can fix that.”

“That would be when you two actually meet and he falls deliriously in love with you,” Jax joked. The fruity flavor of the lollipop helped calm the dark fear still twitching through her spine.

“Exactly,” Everly agreed. “See, Layla? Jax gets it. ”

“Mm-hmm,” Layla murmured, queen of non-committal. She turned to Jax. “There’s one other thing about Styles. I think I know why he’s marking all over the apartment and howling at night.”

From the couch, Everly grinned. “Your boy is all kinds of horny.”

Jax raised her eyebrows in confusion. What were they talking about?

Layla gently set Styles on the floor before meeting Jax’s eyes. “Styles needs to be neutered.”