2. LION
Chapter two
LION
I pour the last of the lactose-free Kitty-Cream into the second plate in front of the window just as Daffin, the largest of my four cats, mostly because he’s a giant ball of orange fur, pokes his head out of Mrs. Crisp’s window.
“Daffin, you know that you’re not supposed to be over there,” I scold, but he struts toward me like he didn’t hear a word I said and nudges Chip and Reynolds aside to get to the Kitty-Cream . The three of them lap from their green plate while King gets the purple plate all to himself. I knew King was going to be a prima donna the second he came into my life. His black and white fur was coated in grease from the garbage behind the Burger King, and as he sat in the basket of my bike, he licked it off, gagging like he was trying to dislodge a fur ball, when, in reality, he was just disgusted to be covered in filth. He’s the newest addition to my family and has settled in well. If you can consider bossing the other three around and refusing to eat from the same plate as them well. And I do.
“I’ll leave the window open so you can get warm when you’re done visiting your friends. Don’t wait up for me. After work, I’m going to check out the River Steakhouse with Mary Beth. Tim posted about their amazing ribs and two-for-one sides on Tuesdays. Who knows, maybe he’ll be there, too.”
Chip meows, looking up at me from the plate of Kitty-Cream .
“I promise I won’t be too late,” I reassure him, and he goes back to lapping up his second breakfast. The first was some chopped sardines the moment I was up and moving.
The monkey notification sound I have set up on my phone goes off, and King hisses.
“I’m sorry, my sweet King. Are you still not used to the funny noises Daddy’s phone makes?” I ask and head over to the counter to swipe open the app and check out what Tim has posted online. That’s the only reason the monkey sound will go off. My calls and messages all have the standard phone alerts. But Tim deserved something special. I can’t wait to see him play this year.
When they released ticket sales for the next season, my sister, Mouse, camped out overnight to be first in line at the stadium. I tried to tell her I was all set up online ready to buy my tickets like I have done every year, but I’m so glad she didn’t listen. They released a handful of Big Banana Double Season Passes, and she and my brother, Buck, bought one for me for my birthday. I get two seats in every game all year, even the away games, and I get to choose two jerseys of any player in the league and a bunch of team swag. I chose Tim’s jersey for both. I got one of the long-sleeve ones and the regular shirt version in extra-large because the large one I bought myself and wore to every game last year is a little tight across my chest now. Tim thought I looked good in it, though. He said as much when he signed his autograph for me at the game last year. He’s just so sweet.
I flick my phone onto silent for King and tap the notification to open the post. It’s Tim, shirtless, eating a bowl of yogurt and granola. Fuck, he looks good. Almost as good as he looked in that suit at Stevie Peterson’s wedding.
I was so excited to score the gig serving at the wedding. I love Banana Ball, it’s so much fun, and getting to hang out with the team, with Tim, was like the best thing ever. I even got to talk to him for a little bit. He was so nice, too. But when I overheard him talking about how crap he thought he played last year, I couldn’t believe he didn’t see how awesome he is. So I jumped online and shared a post on his page with a few pictures I had taken that season of him at games. I tagged him in it, too, and when I walked past him later that night as he was checking his feed, I got to see his face light up in a brilliant smile when he stopped on my post, and I knew I was making a difference. I always knew just telling him how great he is wasn’t going to be enough to really lift his spirits. So, I created a few extra accounts a while back and started commenting and sharing my posts about him. It really boosted the engagement from others, too, like more and more people were seeing the posts and following my profiles, following Tim.
I tap the like icon on the granola pic. Then moving into the comments box, I type, Looking fit AF , and hit share. Then I log out and load up another account, find the post and share and comment again, then repeat a bunch of times until all of my accounts have commented, liked, and shared, and then I let the internet do its thing. It’s gotten easier to log in and out of them all since I changed it so that they all have the same password. Remembering all the usernames is harder, but my phone started to do that on its own. So, now I just scroll through a list, click the next profile, pop in the password, and go again. Not all the comments are mine, though. My accounts have hundreds of Banana Ball fans as friends, and with the multiple comments boosting Tim’s post up into their feeds, they take over and I can close my phone and head to work happy that Tim’s day is going to start off on a high. It’s day one of training, after all.
***
“Good morning, Lion,” Mary Beth says as I walk into the cafe. Mary Beth is my boss and best friend, and I wrap my arms around her in a tight hug.
“Good morning.”
Reynolds, my white and gray fluffy cat, introduced Mary Beth and me when I first arrived in Savannah. Though he was actually browner and grayer at the time. Mary Beth scared him, and he bolted from the back storeroom of her cafe right into me as I was passing by. He tumbled into a ball at my feet, and I quickly scooped him up ready to hand the little fluff ball over to his owner. But turns out he wasn’t hers. He was meant to be mine. That was actually my first interaction with the cat distribution system. Daffin was my second, then Chip, and finally King. I have no idea when the system will stop choosing me, and I don’t care either. I love my little fur-babies.
“Did you see Tim’s post today?” I ask, releasing her, and she grabs my hands.
“I did, and you were right, he’s been working out.”
“I know. I swear he’s been pushing himself really hard for months. Too hard. Hopefully, now he’s back at training, he’ll lighten up on the extra workouts and just have fun. So, are we still on for dinner?”
“Yes, oh my God. I have been thinking about those ribs since you showed me his post about them last week.”
“Me, too.”
“Do you think he could be there?”
“Who?”
She chuckles and shakes her head.
“Tim. You said it was his favorite place to eat when he’s home, right?”
“That’s what he said.”
“Maybe he’s going to be hungry after his first day back at training. If he’s there, you should ask for a photo or an autograph.”
“I have an autograph, but a photo would be cool. I was going to ask for one at the wedding, but then Duckie and Ryan dragged him onto the dance floor.”
“Right, I forgot you worked the wedding. Who was it for again?”
“Stevie.”
“Well, I am sure you will get plenty of opportunities to talk to him. You got your season pass, and an amazing boss who has already approved all the dates off you need to go following his tour all over the US.”
“Thanks, Mary Beth.”
“Don’t mention it. Oh, one thing, though.”
“Yeah?”
“Can you make the display pretty for me, please?”
I kneel in front of the glass cabinet where we keep the cakes and baked treats and shake my head.
“Did a raccoon get in here?”
“I tried, okay. Look, you make it pretty for me and I’ll make you a caramel macchiato.”
“Ohhh, iced with whip and caramel drizzle, please?” I ask, and I move behind the case to get to work.
“You got it.”
I grab two sets of tongs, snapping them like claws in her direction a few times to make her laugh and then start rearranging the display. The whole cakes on the middle shelf are mostly fine, but I move them around a little until they sit evenly apart and then set a few fresh flowers and macarons in the gaps between them.
The top shelf is a complete mess. Keeping the packaged gluten-free, dairy-free, and nut-free options on top is important, but they don’t have to look like they were just tossed in there. I put the tongs down, throw on some gloves, and start moving each piece into place. The individual packets make them less pretty than the rest of the case, but the fresh flowers Mary Beth orders from the florist two shops down surround them beautifully, and in a few minutes, the whole display is organized down to the bottom shelf with the kids’ cookies, cake pops, candy marshmallow skewers and monster face cupcakes. It’s my favorite shelf, and I love that it is right at the kids’ level so they can see all the fun colors and yummy treats just for them.
Okay, not just for them. I guess if an adult wanted one, we would sell it to them, too, but really, they are made for the kids. Why an adult wouldn’t just get an adult-sized cookie or slice of cake instead of a kiddy-sized one is beyond me. Mary Beth makes the skewers herself, out of candy and marshmallows, and charges only a dollar for them with any coffee purchase.
I pull out my phone to pop it away in the back of the cafe before customers start arriving and see the notification on the screen. I didn’t turn the sound back on after I left home. How long ago did this come through? I quickly swipe it to open the post. Tim has liked all of my comments, and he replied, Hope you had an amazing birthday! on one of them. I log in as Kittyball100 and hit reply. It was amazing, almost as fun as seeing you hit that home run in game seven last season.
“What’s got you looking so happy?” Mary Beth asks as she flicks the sign on the door from closed to open.
“Tim Sage wished me a happy birthday.”