Chapter 6
Two days after my ban from The Jewelry Box, I’m distracting myself by working late when I get a text from an unknown number.
Unknown: Corresponding with you is likely a mistake. But know that I will be quick to block you if you make this weird.
It’s her.
Pearl used the number that she found on the kitten’s collar.
She’s texting me.
I hadn’t let myself fully believe that this was a possibility. And because I didn’t let myself believe this was a possibility, I don’t have a message ready to respond to her.
While my brain is frantically trying to remember words that make sense another message comes in.
Pearl: What is the situation with this kitten?
Swiveling my chair away from my desk full of drafted blueprints, I focus entirely on this exchange and decide to stick with the topic she brought up. The kitten is a safe zone to focus on, unlike my unending infatuation with her.
Sammy: Hello, you have reached Sammy Reyes. And the deal with the kitten is that the little fuzzball is yours to keep.
Sammy: That is if you like kittens.
Sammy: If you do not like kittens, then please turn the kitten over to Cat. She will then bring the kitten to me. I don’t think that Cat necessarily likes kittens simply because her name is Cat.
Pearl: The kitten is mine.
Pearl: But I think something is wrong with it.
Panic clinches my chest as I recall the sweet little animal that I found abandoned in a condemned building and kept tucked in my jacket when I snuck it into the strip club. There was no way of knowing if Pearl would immediately fall in love with the scruffy creature. But I knew if the most adorable feline in the world couldn’t win her affection, then I—a selfish asshole—had zero chance with the elusive woman.
Sammy: Is she sick? I’ll cover any vet bills. Is she hurt?
Pearl: It’s not a physical issue. It’s a mental one.
Then an amazing thing happens.
Pearl sends me a picture.
Not a picture of herself, which would obviously be my first choice. But she does send me an adorable picture of a kitten sitting in a kitchen sink. The cat’s fur is wet and sticking up at funny, spiky angles. The damp creature seems to have alien large eyes.
Pearl: She jumped into the sink while I was washing dishes. The cat likes water. Something is wrong with her.
My heart swells to five times the normal size.
She likes water. Just like her daddy.
I’m so proud.
Sammy: That’s a brave little monster you have.
Pearl: Funny that you would call her a monster.
Pearl: I named her Kraken. In tribute to her water-loving soul.
How is it that every interaction I have with this woman makes me fall for her even more? As much as I tried to ignore it, there was a part of my brain that took Rafael’s words to heart. That pointed out I might have imagined Pearl to be a different woman than she is, and a single conversation would reveal my delusions.
But these texts are playful, yet dry. I can imagine the dismissive woman from the stage typing these out with no effort. If only I could hear the words spoken in her voice.
What does she sound like?I want to know so bad. But I’m not sure I’ll ever get a chance to.
Still, my hopelessness from the last forty-eight hours has diminished greatly from this simple exchange. She’s talking to me. I gave her an opening, and Pearl started a conversation. She didn’t have to. She could’ve taken the kitten and run.
Yet here I am, reading words that she has typed out for me. This has to mean something, right? I would think it at least means she has a vague interest in me. And that I don’t creep her out. Maybe that she thinks of me as someone potentially more than just a customer.
Unless she messages other customers. The thought comes in a judgmental voice. The same voice that likes to remind me how people are only nice to me because I’m rich and I’ll never know if a romantic partner truly likes me.
As much as the lack of clarity about this first true communication makes my nerve endings itch, I don’t ask. I don’t wanna do anything to make Pearl question the decision to send a message to me.
Sammy: That name is inspired! I think it should win an award. And I fully expect Kraken will one day demolish entire pirate ships on her whim.
Pearl: She does demand respect that is for sure.
I watch the three dots of an incoming text message appear and disappear multiple times.
What is she so unsure about?
When Pearl is on stage, she seems to embody confidence, but this hints at hesitation. Eventually, the dots are replaced with an actual message.
Pearl: Why did you give me a kitten?
This question isn’t a surprise. Honestly, it would’ve made more sense as the first message she sent me.
Sammy: I hope this doesn’t make you feel any less special. But I have to confess that you are not the first person that I have given a kitten to in the past few weeks.
Pearl: So what? They are leftover party favors you had extras of?
I snort a laugh.
Sammy: More like a litter discovered on an abandoned construction site. I’ve been looking for homes for them and thought I might offer you the chance to grab one. You can pat yourself on the back for being a rescue kitten mama.
When I’m not pining for Pearl, I spend my days working as an architect. I went to one of my new build sites last week and heard pitiful meowing. My foreman and I came across a huddled mass of three little kittens that were underfed and too adorable to leave behind. She had two daughters and said that she could take two of the kittens for them, while I decided to keep one for myself. Then I had the inspired idea to offer one to Pearl. Which is probably a good indication that I wouldn’t have made a model cat dad in the first place.
Sammy: I hope she finds a good home with you.
Pearl: However I feel about you will not affect how I treat this kitten. She is a sea monster princess that I will murder a fleet of bloodthirsty pirates for.
She sends a picture of Kraken eating a big bowl of cat food.
Then one of Kraken napping in a cat bed.
Next is a picture of Kraken nestled on a pair of plump, perfect boobs.
And I lie down on the floor of my office and die a little.
But it’s a good death.