Chapter 3 #2
“I can tell this is a very difficult time for you.”
It was a voice-only call, but Mo stuck his tongue out anyway.
“Shut up. Tell me about Twelfth Night. Who’s your most terrible coworker?
” Sage had studied theater in college and had appeared in a handful of small productions since they graduated.
After the original Viola broke her leg in a freak Tube accident, Sage suddenly found themself graduating from swing to the lead role in a Globe production.
“Oh, David, for sure.”
“You said he was lovely!” A word they’d no doubt picked up since relocating to London.
“He is! And he’s married, so it’s terrible!”
God, a married actor who could keep it in his pants. What would they think of next? Mo snorted and twitched his blinds. What the hell was wrong with him? Adam wasn’t even supposed to pick him up for five more minutes.
Or maybe right now. Of course Adam was early. Heaven forbid the golden boy be late.
At least, Mo assumed Adam owned the three- or four-year-old Land Rover.
All that money and youth and sex appeal, and he bought the rich man’s Subaru.
What a waste. He didn’t need to buy a Lamborghini or a Ferrari, but he could have at least gone for a Mercedes or a Corvette, or hell, even a Lexus SUV.
Something with personality. Something that matched Adam’s looks and his personality.
“Mo? Hello?”
“Shit, sorry, Sage. He’s here. I was having a moment to grieve. It’s a Land Rover.”
“However will you cope,” Sage said dryly. He should have known better than to appeal to them. They didn’t appreciate cars. They probably thought Land Rovers were nice.
“The English have ruined you.”
“Bye, love! Have fun with the new boyfriend!” Sage sing-songed with a laugh and hung up before Mo could give a rejoinder.
Consigning himself to his fate, Mo slipped on his shoes and grabbed his keys. Adam was halfway out of his car when Mo stepped out the front door. He raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment on the fact that Mo had obviously been watching for him. Damn it.
Prickly at being caught, Mo couldn’t stop the sarcasm. “Wow, flashy.” Despite the Land Rover’s age, the inside was well-kept and free of clutter. Mo doubted even Adam had consigned himself to a cost-saving secondhand vehicle, though. “You go off-roading in this thing?”
Adam rolled his eyes behind his aviators and put the car into gear. “I’m sorry this car isn’t to your tastes, but the Porsche is in the shop and it’s the limo driver’s day off, so you’ll have to make do.”
Mo scoffed. As if he’d ever want to be in the back of a limo. Though he wondered… “Do you actually own a Porsche?”
Adam cast him a sideways glance and then refocused on the road. He kept his hands at ten and two. “What do you think?”
That was a no, then. Just when Mo thought he might actually be interesting.
Since Adam had now rejected Mo’s conversational gambit twice, he decided Adam could be the one to try next.
They rode in silence for a few minutes.
Of course, Mo had forgotten Adam was infamously taciturn in public and Mo hated a silence. He eyed the radio. Would Adam swat him if he touched the dial? Also, what kind of psychopath drove around without music?
Adam hit the turn signal, did a shoulder check, and eased into the left lane. A perfect maneuver. His driving instructors must be so proud. The overly loud click-click of the signal stopped, and silence reigned again.
“Where are we going?”
Adam hadn’t given him much direction about the afternoon.
They hadn’t settled on a first public outing, but Adam had texted the night before to say that he and Audrey had come up with the perfect idea and to wear something comfortable that he didn’t mind getting dirty.
When Mo had asked follow-up questions, Adam responded with:
Think nice picnic in the park. We’re not doing that, though.
“Don’t you like surprises?” Adam asked lightly.
“Not when they’re orchestrated by strangers for a publicity stunt,” Mo sniped.
Adam’s shoulders tensed; then he let out a sigh and visibly unclenched. “Good point. Sorry. We’re going to the animal shelter.”
“Girl, I don’t know what others have told you, but pet adoption does not a good first date make, even one that is supposed to be the fifth or tenth date.”
“We’re not adopting anything, girl,” Adam grumbled. “We’re going to volunteer to help socialize some kittens so they get used to people and strangers.”
“We’re doing community outreach for our first date,” Mo said, bemused.
He couldn’t recall ever doing any kind of public service on a date.
Or ever, unless mandated by his parents.
Unless you counted that one blind date he did in college as a favor for a friend, when he escorted her extremely shy gay brother to the opening night of her first gallery showing.
“Yeah. It’s perfect. It’s private and low-key, but also the shelter will be posting pictures of us to generate interest. So we get media exposure without having to pose for hours, and more animals get adopted.”
Wow. He… really just said that. “You’re an odd duck, Captain Cardboard.”
Adam stiffened, but rather than argue, he simply turned into the shelter parking lot and said, “We’re here.”
Since the Du Ponts’ stance on animals was no, and even if they had relented and allowed their only son a pet, it certainly wouldn’t have been a rescue, Mo had never been inside one and didn’t know what to expect.
This place had a large, open central desk with hallways branching off it, each with windowed rooms containing cages.
And the sound of barking. Lots of barking.
“Hi. I’m Adam and this is Mo, and we have an appointment,” Adam said with a charming smile for the young woman behind the desk.
She blinked up at him for a long moment. Mo couldn’t tell if Adam’s looks or his stardom were having the effect. “Um, to adopt?” she squeaked.
“No,” Adam began but was cut off by the arrival of another, more experienced woman.
“Mr. Murphy. Thanks for coming.” She held out her hand to shake.
“It’s just Adam.” He shook and then turned to give Mo space to step forward. “And this is Mo.”
“Maryan.” She had a firm, dry handshake and a smattering of healing scratches on the back of her hand. “Occupational hazard. Don’t worry, the kittens are mostly harmless. I’ll just have you two wash your hands and then I’ll bring you in.”
Mo trailed behind Adam, who took the handwashing instructions posted next to the sink very seriously.
Were kittens susceptible to people germs?
Or was this some kind of countermeasure in case they had sick cats at home?
Mo didn’t know, but he didn’t complain about the harsh soap, even if it did suck the moisture right out of his skin.
He wasn’t going to be responsible for a kitten plague.
“There’s not much to the job,” Maryan said cheerfully as she led them into a bare-bones room. “Don’t worry about any messes they make; we’ll clean up when you’re done. These ones are a bit young to be litter training.”
Mo’s footsteps faltered. “They’re just going to… pee wherever?”
Maryan looked at Adam. “You did tell him to dress in clothes he didn’t mind getting dirty, didn’t you?”
“I did!” Adam said quickly, with a glance at Mo that seemed to read stop making me look bad.
Which—if he looked bad, it was his own fault. What if Mo had been allergic to cats or something, the way he was allergic to horses? Adam would’ve looked pretty stupid then.
Never mind. Mo could get his own back. He pasted on a sickly smile.
“He did, Maryan, just—I didn’t realize the kittens were going to be so small and precious!
I’m sure I can handle whatever they throw at us.
” He squeezed Adam’s forearm and fluttered his eyelashes.
“After all, I’ve got my big, strong man to protect me, right, pookie? ”
Adam looked at Mo’s arm, then back to Maryan’s face like he was afraid she’d suddenly realized he was gay and hate-crime them. “Um.”
But Maryan ignored them both and shook her head. “You boys these days. You just get settled and I’ll have the first batch sent in.”
“They’re coming in batches?” Mo hissed when the door closed behind her.
Adam folded himself onto one of the cushions on the floor. He shouldn’t be able to look up at someone and still seem judgmental. “Are you afraid of kittens?”
With a huff, Mo sank lotus-style onto the remaining pillow. “No.” Although, should he be afraid of kittens?
Before he could wonder, the door opened and Maryan returned with a small carrier. “Now, the most important thing to remember is just be gentle. We want to get them accustomed to people and used to touch and being held, but we want it to be a positive experience.”
Don’t maul the kittens, Mo thought. “Got it.”
Then Maryan opened the box, and Mo said, “Oh my God.”
He would never in his life have identified as a cat person.
But the first little fluffball to stumble unsteadily into the room stole his entire heart.
Sorry, fake relationship with Adam. It had been fun while it lasted—not.
Mo hadn’t known he could feel this kind of tenderness toward something so orange.
Another kitten followed, this one a gray tabby with green eyes. Then a black one and an orange and white followed after.
“I’ll just leave you to it,” Maryan said, and then Mo and Adam were at the kittens’ mercy.
The kittens seemed as wary as Mo felt. He glanced sideways at Adam. “So do we just… sit here?”
“Were you not listening?” The words should have been sharp, but maybe Adam was keeping his voice calm for the kittens’ benefit. He slowly scooted toward the orange angel and offered his hand to sniff.
Mo huffed. “I’ve never held a cat, okay?”
Adam tilted his head. “Oh.” Then, telegraphing his movements, he scooped up the gray kitten in one overlarge hand.
“Mew,” said the kitten politely, but it didn’t squirm or fight or pee.