Chapter 7 #2
Internally she groans. The cat whisperer. That has to be the unsexiest moniker you could ever bestow on a single woman in her late thirties. To make matters worse, she hasn’t had a cat since Kiki died of old age. Two years ago.
“Laundry day,” Barb says, resigned. “Good thing I didn’t go out.”
“Go out? Where would you have gone dressed like that?” He looks her up and down, his expression dubious. “You are clearly in for the night.”
Barb smacks him on the arm. She’s known Ray her whole life, and he’s one of only two people she’s ever had a real crush on, though he’s only ever thought of her as a little sister.
It’s nice to have him back in Seaside, but the circumstances of his return were sad.
After a five-year stint in the military, Ray went to art school, got married, and became a successful tattoo artist. And then his wife passed away. Complications from cystic fibrosis.
He’s now back in his childhood home across the street.
His recently paroled father, Richard, lives in the small studio apartment above the garage.
Since then, there have been a revolving door of women coming and going from their house.
Their ages range wildly from early twenties to late fifties, and while it might be easy to assume that the younger women were there to see Ray, it wasn’t necessarily the case.
Richard Montes has always had a reputation.
In any case, rarely has Barb seen the same woman twice.
Not that she’s been paying attention or anything.
He hands her the grocery bag, and she peeks inside. Some women get flowers from their childhood crush; Barb gets a pooper scooper.
Ray has also brought food, bowls, toys, and a clean litter box.
“I really appreciate this,” he tells her.
“I’ll be staying in the house during the renovations, but obviously Dexter can’t be there, and my dad’s not a cat person.
I actually looked into booking an Airbnb, but the prices have skyrocketed. ”
Barb shakes her head. “The Wonderland effect. I almost couldn’t find a seat at Lucky’s the other day, and it’s only going to get worse.”
A soft meow emanates from the carrier, and she crouches down to unzip it. A large, gray furry head pokes out, sees her, and then immediately scrambles back inside. Ray attempts to coax the cat out, but the Maine coon refuses to budge.
“I shouldn’t complain,” Ray says with a sigh. “It’s good for business. Every artist at the studio is fully booked this summer. My sister was thinking of finally getting her first tattoo, but being the smart-ass I am, I told her we couldn’t accommodate.”
Barb lets out an obligatory chuckle. “And how is Nicolette?” she asks, but only because it seems like the polite thing to do.
“She’s okay,” Ray says with a rueful smile. “Did she tell you she’s going to be in that serial killer documentary?”
Barb’s mouth drops open in shock. Ray has always assumed that she and his little sister have stayed close, but nothing could be further from the truth.
Which doesn’t mean Barb isn’t aware of what her former best friend has been up to over the years—oh, she’s fully aware.
But it’s not because Nicolette tells her.
A wave of dizziness passes over her, and she reaches for the wall to steady herself.
“Yeah, I was surprised, too,” Ray says. “It seems like she wasn’t given much of a choice.”
Barb doesn’t understand what he means by that.
There is always a choice, and Nicolette is a grown-ass woman who can make her own damn decisions.
Barb can’t imagine what could have persuaded her former friend to do an interview for Criminal Confessions.
After all, they made a pact twenty-five years ago.
They promised each other they’d never speak of it, to anyone.
It could ruin both their lives.
She waits for Ray to offer more details. But instead of elaborating, Nicolette’s big brother turns toward the door.
“Thanks again,” he says. “Be warned: Dexter will always act like he’s starving. He is not. Vet says he needs to lose ten percent of his body weight.”
“I can relate.”
Ray gives her another once-over. “Nah, you look good,” he says. “I mean, not right now, and not in those clothes, and there’s a whole hair situation happening that I don’t understand, but you’re cute most of the time.”
She can never tell if he’s being sarcastic or being flirtatious. Barb smacks him again. “Come and visit him anytime,” she says. “And keep me posted on how the reno goes.”
After Ray lopes back across the street to his own house, Barb sinks against the wall, trying to compose herself. Jana Jones is certainly persuasive, but she can’t believe Nicolette actually agreed to be interviewed. What the hell will she even say?
If you girls just stick to the story, everything will be fine.
Another meow reminds her she’s not alone. Barb squats down again and peeks into the carrier. Two mistrustful green eyes stare back at her.
“You stay in there as long as you need to,” she says to the cat. “And then come watch Trophy Wives with me. You like reality TV?”
From the back of the carrier, Dexter meows again, but Barb doesn’t know if that means yes or no. If only animals could talk. She could then ask the cat how to get out of the friend zone Ray has placed her in, probably because she says yes to favors like this.
Heading back to the living room to finish watching rich ladies fight about rich-lady problems, she can’t help but feel just a little bit sorry for herself.
Good old Barb. Such a great friend. So damned dependable.