Page 25 of Meow

Butterbean stands on his hind legs, clawing at my thighs. Cute, but transparent in his demands. I scoop him into my arms and head downstairs, where a chorus of hungry meows greets me.

"Okay, okay, I get it!" I tell them, opening the cupboard. I swear they can tell time.

Each cat requires a special diet—premium blends I've meticulously formulated from the variety of foods I’ve pilfered. I feel kind of bad about that now, with things the way they are between me and Duffield. But I push the guilt aside because Butterbean needs a new batch, and he's thriving on what I've created. These foods cost a fortune—unless you know where to dumpster dive.

"I'm heading out," I announce to the furry crew like they understand, which, I honestly believe they do, grabbing Nana’s car keys keys and slinging an empty hold-all over my shoulder. "Back in thirty."

Nana is still in bed, but she knew I was going to take the car this morning for a food run, so I don’t bother to wake her to say goodbye.

The closest Bark and Purr isn't far, and they consistently discard bags and cans of great product. Entire trays of unopened cans with months before expiration. Their waste is my treasure when they don’t try to destroy it before it’s dumped.

Infuriating. It dumbfounds me. I bet Duffield doesn’t even know.

I mean, they’re sort of stealing from him, right? Throwing way perfectly good merchandise.

He needs to know, and I’ll be sure to tell him, but not before I load up and make sure my supply closet at the house is good and full. I don’t want to assume I’ll have access to money orfree product. I mean, the bad decisions are multiplying already. I agreed to move in with a man I barely know, I could be pregnant with his baby right now, and I haven’t even bothered to discuss with him what the details of our living situation will be.

Love makes you do dumb things. Good dick and mouth work will too. I’m sex hazed and wearing rose colored glasses.

I mean, Duffield and I…what are we? Boyfriend doesn’t sound right. All this ‘I’m claiming you’, is that just something he uses on all the young assistants he hires? One of the office girls told me he goes through assistants like Leonardo DiCaprio goes through girlfriends. Similar age difference as well.

The ache between my legs reminds me that it’s gone beyond boyfriend. At least, if him saying I love you is any indication.

And me saying it back.

Oh. My. God.

Doubt curdles in my belly as I ease Nana’s old Cadillac chugging down the street, the spring sunshine making me squint as a cascade of conflicting feelings makes me queasy. But I have a plan. Get the food, tell Duffield about the dumping, then figure out how to at least keep my job and get on the right side of the cat food supply chain.

What I really want is to keep him. But maybe this kitten is in over her head.

Thirty minutes later, I'm waist-deep in discarded pet supplies, rummaging through the dumpster with my hoodie concealing my face and ears. I toss out anything salvageable to bag later. Technically illegal? Yes. I’m no newbie to the dumpster game. In Michigan, it’s theft if the dumpster is on private property.

But come on. I’m stealing garbage. No harm, no foul, right?

I hit the jackpot—premium foods for Butterbean, Misty, Clementine, and Jasper. I’m not seeing the one I give Gumball, but I have enough for now. If purchased new, these would cost hundreds monthly. I also unearth a salvageable blanket and a scratching post with a bent pole my crew will adore.

Satisfied, I climb out and begin loading my hold-all when a deep voice freezes me mid-motion.

"Do you know who you're fucking stealing from? By the time I'm through with you, you'll wish I'd called the police."

My spine tingles, instincts warring between turning to face the threat or fleeing.

"Wait. I—I'm not stealing." My voice betrays me with a quiver as I stand surrounded by my half-packed bounty.

"Nobody steals from me. Nobody. You hear me?"

"But it's just being thrown away!" Indignation warms my blood. "Who are you anyway?"

I spin around, breath catching at the massive silhouette blocking the alley's exit, the bright sun behind him making features impossible to see. No escape route. No way past.

"Let me go," I demand, aiming for confidence.

He steps forward, and I retreat until my back nearly touches the brick wall. If only I had a real cat's climbing abilities.

"I'll scream!"

Another step forward brings him into clear view.

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