Chapter 3 #2
I glance around the room, but there’s no sign of the little gremlin.
Most game nights, he makes himself scarce.
As much as Nick adores the attention, he knows better than to attempt his antics with these groups.
They aren’t agreeable to letting him prance around on top of the table, screwing up the carefully placed pieces and cards.
“He’s probably tucked into one of his beds.
” Or on top of one of the bookcases. That’s where he likes to rest when he’s overseeing activities.
“But he’s down here? Right?”
I pause before answering the question. Unless Nick is right in front of me, I rarely know where he is until he’s causing problems. Then, it’s too late to save my decorations or customers from his antics.
There’s a certain level of silence I’ve come to associate with him getting into trouble.
That’s when I go looking for him, mainly in hopes that I can prevent whatever catastrophe he’s planning.
I slide out from the spot behind the table so I can get a good look at him. “Chase, are you scared of the store cat?”
“I’m not afraid.” He puffs up his chest, a surefire sign that he’s lying to me. “But I don’t want to wake up with a bedmate again. He should be down here, not in my apartment.”
“Sure.” As far as Nick is concerned, the whole place technically belongs to him. “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll hunt him down.”
I sigh and pause my cleanup in favor of finding Nick.
At least then Chase will be out of my way, and I’ll be able to get back to my routine.
As it is, everything is a little off with him here.
Normally, I’d be blasting my newest pop obsession and dancing my way around the shop.
That’s a version of me that I’m not ready to show Chase.
Or anyone. A few of the clerks I’ve hired over the years have had the misfortune of walking in on me putting on a Taylor Swift concert.
They didn’t make fun of me. Mostly. But probably only because I pay them.
What they say to their friends in text messages is a different story.
“Here, Nick,” I coo as I make my way to the front register.
It’s where I keep the secret trick to tracking him down.
Churu in hand, I start my search for the troublemaker.
I begin with all his favorite spots. The window bed is completely empty.
So are the ones in the backroom and behind the counter.
And yes, he’s spoiled rotten and has at least half a dozen comfy beds hidden throughout my shop.
“Maybe he escaped?” Chase offers.
I balk at his suggestion. “Nick used to live in the alley behind the store. He knows exactly how good he has it now.” Nick runs every time the door opens, afraid he might accidentally end up back outside.
I like to think it’s because he likes me, but it’s really that he adores his auto-feeder. That thing is the love of his life.
“You adopted him?”
I shrug. I’m not sure I’d put it that way, but it’s the best option I can come up with. The reality is that he wormed his way into my heart slowly and carefully. A masterminded approach to get me to bring him inside. Once he was here, we both agreed that it was meant to be.
“And he’s…safe? I mean, you’ve had him tested for diseases and stuff, right?”
Seriously? What’s Chase’s issue with Nick?
I don’t remember him having any specific animal-related phobias as a teenager.
Though at the time, I was mostly focused on how incredibly gorgeous he was.
In my mind, he was a god, capable of doing no wrong.
He could’ve been scared of kittens, and I would have thought it was adorable.
“Eh. He’s fine. Probably.” I turn my back to Chase, so he won’t see the smirk on my face. Nick gets better medical care than I do. He had a few issues when I first brought him inside, but they’ve all been dealt with. His only health problem is his weight. Which we’re working on. Sort of.
“Probably? Nix, tell me you had this cat checked out by a vet? They have to get shots. He could have rabies. Or worse…fleas!”
“Relax, Chase. Of course I’ve had him checked. Multiple times now. He’s had all his shots, and I give him preventive flea and tick treatment every month. He’s in better shape than either of us.” Especially with the fancy food I buy him.
“You’re fucking with me?” He narrows his eyes. “Are you? I can’t tell.”
“Chase, I assure you that Nick is perfectly safe and healthy. I wouldn’t let him live here if he posed a risk to my patrons or me. Do you really believe I’d let him hang around all the books if he had fleas?”
Chase looks around, like he might need to personally inspect the books for bugs before he believes me. “Okay. Then where is he?”
That, I can’t answer. Normally, he appears as soon as I snip the top off his treat. No matter where he is, he can smell the scent of chicken wafting through the air.
“He’ll show up, give it a minute.” I walk through the store, slow enough that I can peruse the various nooks and crannies for a glimpse of his white and black fur. “Have you always had this fear of cats?”
“Do you always wear a bowtie?”
“Answer mine first.”
“I’m not scared of cats. I just think animals belong outside.
” He crosses his arms and leans back against the table.
His devilishly short shorts ride up a bit, revealing the edge of a tattoo on his thigh.
It’s nearly impossible to pull my gaze away.
Instead, I pretend to be studying the area for Nick.
“It’s not a horse. It’s a house cat. Emphasis on the word house.”
“Then why isn’t he at your house?”
I sigh. The original plan was to take him back and forth, but wrangling him into a kennel twice a day was too stressful for both of us.
He’s happier here and, as a bonus, helps ensure no mice run around the shop.
Nick is better at pest control than any company and much better at customer relations.
Seeing a pest control van in front of the shop doesn’t instill confidence.
Even if it is a fact of life for older New England buildings. Especially in the winter.
My own home is a different story. I’ve struck a deal with the mice who make their way in. I’ll stay out of their way if they stay out of mine. It’s the reason I avoid the basement as much as possible. No need to disrupt the order of things.
“Now my question. What’s with the bowtie?”
I put my hand up to my neck and touch the bit of fabric. It’s one of my favorites. Paisley with pale yellow flowers. I found it in a thrift store a few years ago. As soon as I saw it, I had to have it. It required a few repairs, but nothing my tailor couldn’t handle.
“My old job required me to wear a tie every day.” At first, I’d hated it.
I never talked to actual clients—at least not in person—and there was nothing about a magic tie that made me better at my job.
It was a strict requirement, though. “I hated how long ties dragged on my desk. Plus, I looked ridiculous in them.” They’re not made for short people.
Especially short people with abnormally short midsections.
“One day, I wore a bowtie as a joke, but I ended up loving it.”
“But you own this place, right? No one makes you wear that. You could wear pajamas to work.”
I scrunch up my nose. Strict dress codes might not work for me, but there’s no way I’m coming in wearing pajamas unless it’s for a themed event.
Oh, that’s a good idea. I’ll have to add it to the growing list of special events I want to offer.
“I suppose that’s true, but I like the bow ties. They’re a personal signature.” Also, I own eighty of them, so I have to do something. Most of them, like the one I’m wearing, are vintage. A few even started life as a long tie but have been cut and reimagined.
“Yeah, but you’re still wearing it. Do you sleep in one or something? There are no customers. I’d have that thing ripped off the second I locked the front door.”
Honestly? I barely notice them anymore. There’s something about the way Chase is pushing that nags at me, though.
He’s simply being curious, but it reminds me of all the bullying I went through years back in school.
How I dressed, how I walked, how I talked.
They went after everything. Now, people occasionally comment on the bowties, mostly as a compliment.
“Why?” I ask, batting my eyelashes a bit. “You trying to get me to take my clothes off?”
The minute the words are out of my mouth, I regret my decision. Blame the tiredness after a long day or work and hosting an event for my poor choices. For a second, I forgot that Chase isn’t one of my friends I consistently banter back and forth with.
He’s my best friend’s brother. My best friend’s straight brother.
“Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
“It’s fine.” It’s not. His face has turned the color of a tomato, and he refuses to look anywhere near my face, instead turning his gaze toward an interesting spot on the wood floor.
Fuck me. So far, I’m pretty sure I’ve done a great job of proving why my high school fantasies could never come true. Reality is a harsh master.
A flash of movement draws my attention to the mystery section of the store. Gotcha.
I put my finger up to my mouth, encouraging Chase to be quiet. We’re on the hunt now. At least that’ll help us get out of this awkwardness. Plus one for Nick.
As soon as I get close to where I spotted him, I crouch down to the floor and hold out the treat.
Nick pokes his head out from behind a set of books on the bottom shelf.
How the hell did he wedge himself in there?
“Come here. I’ve got a treat for you.” I make the psp, psp, psp noise that the internet believes attracts cats.
In my experience, it’s a complete myth. Not once has Nick come to that sound.
Nick cocks his head to one side and examines me. “It’s your favorite.” In fairness, his favorite is anything edible. And a few things that aren’t.
“Why is he back there?”
“Are you seriously asking me? Why that cat does anything is beyond my comprehension.” I’ll never understand Nick. It doesn’t stop me from loving him with my whole heart.
“Well, make him come out and go to bed.”
I pause for a moment to run through that comment again. “You know cats are nocturnal, right? Or rather crepuscular.”
“I don’t know what that means, but as long as it isn’t in my bed, I don’t care.”
Before I can argue with Chase, Nick saunters out and screams at me, demanding the promised treat. “Here you go, baby. You earned this.”
Nick licks up most of the Churo while purring and giving me a loving look. It’ll be short-lived, but I soak up whatever I can get from him.
“Alright. You’ve seen him, so as long as you shut the door to the apartment, you should be safe,” I say to Chase. “The big scary beast is contained.”
“I’m not scared of the cat.”
“Sure.”
“I’m not. I just don’t think sleeping with animals is sanitary.”
“Of course.” He can use whatever words he wants; I know the truth. The incredible Chase is scared of a little cat.
Okay, a big one, but still.
Chase stays a foot behind me for a second, not moving. Maybe he’s waiting for something. “Chase?”
“Sorry. I’m leaving. Just keep track of him until I can get upstairs.”
“Sure.” I’m not entirely sure that’s a promise I can keep, but I’ll do my best. “Chase?”
He turns back around toward me. His face is now a more natural color, though his cheeks are still tinged pink. “I’m sorry about what I said. I was just teasing you, but I shouldn’t have said it.” With him around, I’m going to have to keep a better handle on the words that fall out of my mouth.
“Forget about it. It’s no big deal,” he says as he heads into the backroom, pulling the door closed behind him.
That’s what he says, but it doesn’t feel that way.
“You got any good ideas?” I ask Nick as he licks the treat in my hand.
He purrs contentedly, loving that whatever just happened means that he gets a special treat.
The Churu only gets pulled out for special occasions.
The rest of the time, he has to settle for smaller items. As a Maine Coon, he’s a big boy at baseline.
When I got him, he needed to put on some weight, which he did quickly.
Now, we’re walking a fine line between him being healthy and venturing into chonky boy territory.
“You be a good boy, okay? Leave our guest alone.” I’m pretty sure Nick doesn’t understand me. Or, if he does, he uses his selective hearing. Doesn’t hurt to give him a good talking-to, just in case. “Don’t cause too much trouble.”