Page 82 of The Beginning and End of Everything
Poppy
June 2015
Brandon lies sprawled out on the couch in our new apartment, glaring at Hope.
"What?" she says as she nudges an unpacked moving box out of the way with her foot. "It's bad luck not to have a housewarming party."
He cocks a brow at her, and she glances at me.
"I stick by the fact that he's a prick, Poppy." She points her finger at Brandon. "I mean, look at him. All sulking over a party."
He drags both hands down his face, tossing back his head on an exasperated groan. Hope mumbles something under her breath on her way to the kitchen, and Brandon looks up at me.
I shrug. "You know how she is."
"A pain in my arse."
I smile. "It's just some of the guys from The Pit. It'll be fun."
He grumbles and flops back on the couch, covering his face with a throw pillow. Hope pops a bottle of champagne, and Brandon jumps. Seconds later, she’s shoving champagne flutes in our faces.
I take mine, but Brandon stumbles into the kitchen, coming back with his bottle of whiskey.
"Oh, Moet's not good enough for you, eh?" Hope says. "And, you know, I'm offended you drink that shite whiskey. What's wrong with McGrath Whiskey?"
"It's connected to you." He winks as he twists the cap from his bottle and takes a swig.
There's a knock on the door. Brandon mumbles a few swear words as he sets down the bottle and goes to open it.
Kyan and Finn are all huddled on the threshold. Brandon extends his arm, motioning them in. The second Kyann steps inside, he shoves a bottle of whiskey and a pink blob into Brandon's arm.
"From Larry.” Kyan laughs, "Lars said there's no better gift than whiskey and a bald pussy." He snickers again, and Finn just shakes his head.
"A cat?" Brandon turns around, holding a little pink kitten with the tiniest tuft of orange hair in the middle of his head. His big yellow eyes dart around the room. He's the ugliest thing I've ever seen.
Hope steps forward and points at the cat. "What is that?"
"It's a pussy cat with no hair," Kyan says.
She gives Kyan an unimpressed expression. "It looks like it got into a fight with a lawnmower."
"Yeah, well, Madame Wrinkles got it on with one of the pikey cats out the back alley." He shrugs. "Poor little bastard is like a hairy, bald mix."
Brandon shakes his head. "I'm not keeping a cat." He places the kitten on the floor, and it backs up against his legs.
"Aw, it's well cute, what with its little patch of hair." Hope crouches down, clicking her tongue to call it over. The kitten unwarily makes its way over to her, and she scoops it up in her arms, then turns to me. "What are you going to name it?"
"It's not getting a name," Brandon says, grabbing his bottle of whiskey from the table.
She holds up the kitten, touching her nose to its face. "He who shall not be named. Ah, bless it."
Finn pats Brandon’s back as he walks past him, pulling a vape pen from his pocket as he takes a seat on the edge of the couch.
"Okay, now everyone's here, along with newcomer, Voldemort." Hope hugs the kitten to her cheek.
"Oh, good,” Brandon says with a clap. “She's attached to it. She can take it home."
"Get a drink; we're going to play a game." Hope grins, ignoring Brandon.
