Page 13 of Pickled
Why not?I didn’t have a good reason. Other than I was way too busy, and oh yeah,I didn’t want a cat. I tucked the phone between my head and shoulder to slide the patio door open with the toe of my flip-flop. The cat bounded inside and squawked at his food bowl.
“What are you guys up to tonight?” I set my dinner on the counter and tried not to gag as I prepared the cat his watered-down pate.
“Don’t change the subject.” Goldie’s voice lowered. “The cat distribution system chose you, Gideon. That cat came to you for a reason. You have to keep him.”
The kitten purred while he lapped the disgusting mash of food. “What the hell is the cat distribution system?” Goldie had always been a bit “out-there,” so comments like this didn’t faze me anymore.
“You’ve been chosen,” Ace shouted from the background in a goofy English accent.
Goldie’s laugh resonated through the phone. “Morton has spoken. What’s his name?”
“Calico Cat,” I grumbled.
“That’s lame,” the English accent in the background shouted.
“And you can’t talk,” I shouted at Morton/Ace. “My neighbor posted about the lost cat on the community page. It’s only a matter of time before the owner comes to get him.”
“Mmmhmmm.” Goldie’s dubious response echoed my own thoughts. “Well, I can’t wait to meet C.C. the Calico Cat. I love kittens.”
“You can take him home with you, then.” I put the phone on the counter and jabbed the speaker button so I could unwrap the potatoes.
“Goldie, darling. Please do tell Gideon that I’m allergic to cats,” the British accent proclaimed from the background.
Goldie giggled, and I rolled my eyes. “You two are the worst.”
“Sorry, Gideon. Morton says that he’s allergic to cats, and also, he thinks you’re going to lose the game Sunday night.”
“Put that damn dog on the phone.” I tried to sound angry, but between the cute kitten darting around the kitchen and the conversation with my brother and sister-in-law, I couldn’t muster up my signature grumpy tone.
“See you tomorrow. Mwah.” Goldie passed the phone back to Ace.
“Are you guys staying for a couple of days?” Ace had mentioned staying in Miami after the Barracuda/Tiger match-up, but sinceI had been a little preoccupied with my hot neighbor, I’d completely forgotten about the plan.
“We’re going to stay one extra day. Goldie has to get back for school on Tuesday. Can we come and see your new place tomorrow?”
“As long as you don’t have that mutt with you.” I unwrapped the potato and jostled it between my hands before dropping the ten-million-degree carb bomb on my plate. “Ow. Dammit.”
Ace laughed as I ran my hands under cold water. “Did you burn yourself on a potato? Haven’t you learned that those are hot yet?”
“Just like you haven’t learned how to turn on an oven yet.” It wasn’t the first time I’d scorched the fingerprints off my hands, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.
“He can make deviled eggs now!” Goldie shouted from the background.
“I’m sure your house smells amazing.” I dried my hands on a tea towel.
“They don’t smell that bad.” Ace didn’t get my innuendo.
“I think he’s talking about your farts.” Goldie took on Morton’s accent. “They’re almost as bad as mine. Pardon me, I mean, my flatulence.”
“Dear Lord.” I shook my head. “You two are welcome here anytime. Even with that farting dog. I’m sure C.C. will put him in his place.” I tried out Goldie’s name for Cat. It suited him.
“It will just be the two of us. Fern is dog sitting. Although I’m pretty sure Morton will be the one doing the sitting.”
Goldie’s mom, Fern Lauper, looked like she’d stepped off a Stevie Nicks album cover and was one of the kindest but flakiest women I’d ever met. Ace’s assessment of her sub-malamute level of responsibility was pretty accurate. “I can’t wait to see you,” I said.
“Same, brother.” A temporary stillness filled the air. “I love you,” Ace said.
After an entire year thinking we hated each other, we were trying hard to patch things up. We didn’t grow up using the L-word, so this was new territory for both of us. It came easier for Ace, but I was trying.
