Page 52 of Impurrfections

Theo snorted. “Way to encourage her.”

“She doesn’t need more strange dudes jumping her. The owner said he didn’t know who the dad was. I hope it wasn’t some Great Dane or else Arthur said she might need a cesarean.”

“If you need an emergency lift to the vet, call me—” Theo cut off his words. “Shit. You can’t call.”

“Yeah. Fuckit. You know? I’m gonna go get me a new burner phone. I can afford the twenty bucks now.”

“Can I give you a ride?”

The part of me that didn’t like to owe anyone anything got its hackles up at that. But the smarter bit of me didn’t want to hike all the way to Walmart, because, of course, there wasn’t one nearby in this fancy-assed part of town. “Sure. Thanks. You probably owe me anyhow.”

“I totally do.”

“We can stop at the hardware store and get a hook for this door.”

“Good idea.” Theo looked a lot happier than he had five minutes ago. Maybe he liked being useful.

“Let me give her food and water and put things away.”

I filled the bowls Arthur had loaned me. Foxy got up and lapped at the water. Mimsy went to the food bowl, crouched down, and took a piece of kibble, crunching it. I watched Foxy carefully, because it’s one thing to share a bed and another to take food out of a hungry dog’s mouth. “Mims, that stuff isn’t half as tasty as your own food.”

Mimsy shot me a look, finished the bite of kibble, then took another. Foxy sat down, watching. She whined and a little trail of drool slipped from her lip.

“Jesus, Mimsy, have a heart,” I told my cat, but I didn’t interfere. She’d lived around a lot of other critters over the years, from the carny’s Noah’s Ark of pets to street dogs. I generally let her figure out how to get along.

When she was done with the second bite, Mimsy went back to the enormous bed and lay down, wiping a paw over her face. The dog shot her one more look, then hurried to her bowl and dug in.

Theo laughed. “Mimsy’s such a little queen, isn’t she?”

“Dictator, you mean.” I hefted the bag of kibble. I’d have to store it somewhere Mimsy couldn’t get at it. More of a challenge than keeping stuff safe from Foxy. “Come on, let’s head out while Her Excellence and her minion are well fed.”

“Sure.” Theo hesitated, then reached into his pocket and pulled something out. “Would you take this now?”

I looked down at the “S” keychain sitting in his palm. Coincidence? “What were your grandparents’ names?”

“Louise and Guy.” He pronounced it Guee. “I got that for you. I know it’s ridiculous…”

I picked up the key chain, running my finger around the S. “No, it’s a good idea. I can keep Foxy locked in safely.” I didn’t say that I liked the idea he’d been thinking of me as he got the tag and attached the key. But I did.

We stuck the kibble in the industrial fridge with the door closed. Mimsy was good with her paws, but I bet she couldn’t open that one. I ran upstairs and left a window ajar before locking the door on our way out. I’d never locked Mimsy in anywhere and I didn’t want to start now. The flat roof was high, but she could make the leap to the dumpster and then down in a pinch. She seemed to like hanging out with Foxy, though. Hadn’t insisted on coming out with me. I wasn’t sure if that made me happy or a little sad. Maybe both.

On the way to Walmart, Theo and I talked about how the wine place could be remodeled. He had lots of ideas, which I guess fit with him being a home-flipper guy. He ran on about how the front showroom could be divided into a really nice lobby— “Those marble floors should be good for something”— and a cat area. How there could be dog runs where the wine coolers used to be and the fridge could hold cat food. I mostly let him ramble, enjoying the way he seemed happier with every suggestion.

I got the cheapest flip phone Walmart had. I could see Theo biting his tongue to keep from offering to buy me a smartphone but I gave him zero encouragement when he pointed them out. Whatever we were building together, friendship or something more, the surest way to screw it up was for me to feel like I owed him. All my phone needed was to be able to call him or Arthur if Foxy started popping puppies, orfailedto pop puppies. A lifeline. I could spend twenty bucks for that.

I bought some cheap and easy food for myself, too, and a packet of cat treats in case Mimsy changed her mind about being cool with Foxy. I held back twenty bucks for emergency money, and it was all good.

Back in the car, Theo waited while I got the phone set up, then he recited his number, digit by digit, for me to put in. He added mine to his contacts and gave me Arthur’s. Phone raised, he added hesitantly, “Can I take your picture? For the contact ID?”

I was four-days scruffy and uncombed, but at least I’d had a shower. “I guess.”

He said, “Thank you,” like it mattered, and took a couple of shots right there in the car. I didn’t ask to see the one he picked. I knew what my face looked like. Wanting to look good for Theo was stupid vanity.

I pulled out my wallet and dug into the space between the IDs to fish out a well-worn piece of paper. Carefully, I put that number in my new phone.

“Who’s that?” Theo asked.

“Mr. Antonopoulos. He owned that carny I worked in. He wasn’t a touchy-feely guy.” Totally wasn’t. “But when I left, he made me write down his number and he said to keep in touch. Said everyone needed a lifeline out there, someone who’d notice if they were gone.” The years had thinned that lifeline, but I still let him know when I had a number he could reach. Tapping the keys to get letters was a familiar routine. I texted him my new number and that I was in Gaynor Beach, CA. A moment later, a new text showed up. I navigated to it.

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